#..not to mention i have even more to include in the next one so. this is a long one. oopsie doo idc i love this fic tbh

[drgnsfly]

✶ 15 YEARS IN THE MAKING

summary: oscar's home race is a big deal. however, what's even bigger is the realization that he has been in love with the childhood friend waiting for him at the finish line since the day he met her. it only took him 15 years, a thousand missed opportunities and a so-called mistake to realize it.

F1 MASTERLIST | OP81 MASTERLIST

pairing: oscar piastri x childhood bff!f!reader

wc: 11.3k

cw: aus gp 2025, unaccurate aus gp 2024 for plot purpose, use of y/n, slightly inaccurate timeline, kinda bittersweet/angsty at some point, otherwise fluff + hea

note: need to cradle that man in my arms and kiss him on the forehead, special mention to @cntappen who wanted yearning oscar, hope ur satisfied 🙏 i lowkey hate this but we carry on

soundtrack: ♫ something, somehow, someday - role model

OSCAR ALMOST DROPS his mug when Hattie tells him the news. “She’s coming to the race?”

His sister nodded, shifting from one foot to the other like she didn’t quite know where to put herself ─ which was uncharacteristic of her ─ and the first things going through Oscar’s mind were Did she know? How would she know? Did she tell her? “I texted her about it ‘cause she always comes to Melbourne. I was just curious. She said she’d be coming if she was welcome with us.”

His head was spinning. Gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, Oscar chose his next words with calculated precision. “And you said…?”

“I mean, Mom said yes, obviously,” Hattie shrugged. “She loves Y/N. And she said it’s been a while since you two saw each other, might do you some good with stress and all that.”

Of course, his mom would say that. You had always been a second daughter for her, welcoming you in her home as if your place had always been next to Oscar on the living room couch. Hattie had been as enthusiastic as her, if a little confused at first, about who had developed such an attachment to her quiet, nonchalant brother. Ever since you and Oscar were children, as soon as he told his mother about the new girl next door who cut short his remote-controlled truck training on the playground, you had been included in every Piastri family dinner.

Because you were Oscar's whole world, his personal sun, the second you stepped into view ─ it would have taken someone mute, blind, and deaf not to notice it. He was just a planet, a satellite, orbiting around you in search of meaning.

Had been. Until almost a year ago.

And nobody knew except for him.

So Oscar swallowed down the lump in his throat.  “Okay, sure, that's cool,” he let out a breath. “I missed her.” The words pained him, as veracious as they were. He didn’t simply miss you like you’d miss someone you hadn’t seen in a while ─ Oscar missed you like an amputee would miss a ghost limb. The kind of pull that tears someone from the inside out, and he only had himself to blame for the ache.

If Hattie suspected something was off, she didn't say it. She chose to scrutinize him instead, eyebrows scrunched in a silent question he answered with a vague smile, as always. She spoke about how you hadn’t come to visit in quite some time, how he rarely updated them on how you were anymore, how you blossomed in your life, but the words went in one ear and out through the other.

Because you were going to the Melbourne Grand Prix, the start of the 2025 season. He didn’t know if he could handle seeing you again, not after the fiasco of the same Grand Prix, a year ago.

Guess he didn’t have much choice.

Oscar Piastri is eight when he meets you for the first time.

He was given his first remote-controlled truck for Christmas and ever since then, rare were the times he spent his full days at home. The playground, with a lot more ground than playthings for children, was a five-minute walk from his house ─ perfect for practicing, he thought. His newfound gadget made him develop a fervency he hadn’t known before, an obsession for speed. He knew Australia had championships for remote-controlled racing, his dad told him so. He wanted a part in it like he never wanted anything in the world before. Except maybe the truck.

But before he could hope of entering, he needed to get to a certain level and that meant practice. So to the playground (or park, park was a cooler word) he went.

Today wasn’t an exception. Vacations had started not so long ago, the sun was high in the sky and Oscar’s knees were raw from being dug in the gravel for so long. His thumbs were branded by the print of the remote in his hand, sweat beaded on his forehead, hair sticking to it, and maybe his vision was blurring a little. But Oscar was nothing if not determined, so he kept going as his truck narrowly avoided obstacles he put in place.

Until a water bottle replaced the self-made circuit in his visual field.

Oscar's eyes slowly trailed up in exasperation, expecting one of his younger sisters or his mother dotting on him, telling him to come back home. Instead, his breath caught a little.

You stood there, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow around you, turning the loose strands of your hair into something almost otherworldly. Oscar had never believed in angels ─ never really thought about them at all, actually ─ but at that moment he wondered if maybe, just maybe they existed. Your sundress, once pristine, was rusted with dirt, the hem brushing against your scraped knees, blood dried in uneven patches. But you didn’t seem to mind. Instead, you smiled ─ as if scuffed knees and torn dresses were just a natural part of being you.

His wide, brown eyes glided from the lukewarm bottle to you, in wonder and shock alike. Your palm was smudged in playground dust, but Oscar barely noticed ─ his gaze caught instead on the way light tangled in your hair, your eyes sparkling with something bright, untamed, unstoppable. You spoke up. “You look like you’re gonna faint. Take it. Drivers need water, right?”

Your voice, soft, shook him out of his trance: he hesitantly took the bottle from your hand, and your fingers brushed against his. Red colored the tip of his ears. He swallowed, hard, bringing the bottle to his chest. You offered him another smile in return, and Oscar felt his heart flutter.

“My name is Y/N.” Before he could even think about protesting ─ about telling you that, actually, he hadn’t asked ─ you plopped down beside him, legs folding underneath you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your shoulder bumped against his, a casual, thoughtless kind of closeness that sent a foreign heat to the back of his neck.

Then just as he was processing that, you turned to face him- too close. Way too close.

Noses. Your noses nearly touched.

Oscar went rigid. Did you know nothing about personal space?!

You pointed behind him, at the house right next to his, visible from the park. “I live right here!”

“...No, you can’t.” Oscar finally said, frowning. He was trying to be as polite as he could muster to be in those conditions. His mom would kill him if he wasn't.

“Why?”

“Nobody lives here.”

The aggressive neutrality of his voice, a timbre unique to him, didn’t deter you in the slightest. On the contrary, it seemed like his reticence to your presence made you beam brighter at him. “That’s because we just moved here, duh. See that car? It’s my mom’s.”

The indifference in Oscar slowly turned to confusion, or as close as it could get to curiosity. There was indeed a baby blue car parked in the driveway he never saw before. For as long as he could remember, which was not a lot, it was always vacant. Until today, apparently. “Oh. We’re neighbors, then.”

Your smile widened, eyes practically shining in excitement. “That’s so cool! I was scared I was gonna be the only kid here.”

Oscar barely heard you, too busy staring at where your arm pressed against his. Was it normal? Were other kids just… this close of each other? Because he wasn’t used to it, not at all. “... How old are you?”

“Eight!” You practically bounced as you said it.

“Me too.”

Your face lit up. Oh no.

“That’s even better! We can be friends! Best friends, even!”

Wait, what.

Oscar blinked, his mind screeching to a halt. That escalated fast. Weren’t there supposed to be multiple steps before deciding to be lifelong friends? Had he missed something? “Uh─”

“What’s your name?” You asked with renewed enthusiasm if it was even possible to add to that.

“... Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”

“Nice to meet you Oscar Piastri from next door!” You held out your hand and, much to his surprise, Oscar took it. Hesitantly, awkwardly, yes, but he still did. The strange, unfamiliar feeling tugging at his stomach wouldn’t let him do otherwise. “I like your truck,” you continued, fingers still wrapped around his like you didn’t even notice. “Can I try it?”

Oscar was way too focused on your palm still sitting in his to process your words. Was he supposed to pull away first? “I… I don’t─”

“Or I could watch you! I don’t mind. I was watching you in the tree back there anyways.”

Oscar blinked. It explained the stains and the scratches, he thought. He still couldn’t believe that there was a whole girl like her in a tree, spying on him, and he had been so caught up by his remote-controlled truck to even notice it. Just as if you could read his thoughts, a sheepish look made its way to your face, lips pursuing as you finally ─ finally ─ let go of his hand. “Mom doesn’t like when I do that,” you admitted as if it were a secret. “But it’s fine. I can wash the dress.”

He stared. There was… something about you, Something about the way you sparkled even when you sat still, the way your presence felt bigger than your little body. He swallowed, nudging the controller toward you before he could regret his decision. “Try.” His voice came out weird. “It’s boring to watch.” 

The twinkling in your eyes was worth every crash that came after this. You were struggling, and hitting every obstacle he skillfully steered away from. Each and every hit was accompanied by a giggle or an exaggerated groan but even though you were terrible, as Oscar tactfully noticed, it still looked like you were having the most fun you had in years.

When he had to go home, you walked him to the door with a spring in your step, occupying the conversational space with random facts about the world. Something about how octopuses had three hearts, how clouds weren’t actually as soft as they looked, and how the color yellow made people happy. Oscar didn’t say much, he never really did, but he contentedly listened.

And then, just as the door swung open, before he could even process the way he wanted to stay a little bit longer, you turned to his mom with all the confidence of someone who had already decided the outcome. “Can Oscar come back tomorrow?” His mom barely had time to blink, but Oscar already knew─ it was over.

Because the moment she said yes, the second the fierce little girl beside him claimed more time with him like it was hers to take, it was sealed. After that, it came as naturally as breathing. Oscar and Y/N. Y/N and Oscar. Never one without the other. You led, he followed. And, somewhere along the way, the rest of the world stopped mattering.

You were a constant in Oscar’s life, a lifeline he clung to without realizing he had reached for it in the first place. He got into karting at ten and nothing─ not his dad's last-minute pep talks, not the hours of practice ─ could calm the way his hands trembled on the steering wheel before his first race. His fingers curled on it, hands trembling and grip tight, knuckles aching from the pressure. What if he wasn’t actually good? What if he messed it all up? What if─?

And then, there you were. Signature grin, messy ponytail, a tiny hand sign scribbled in clashy, colorful letters: GO, OSCAR GO!! The words were surrounded by questionable doodles ─ stick-figure cars with lopsided wheels, a few stray hearts in the margins like an afterthought. “I came to watch you win,” you said, like there was no other possibility. After that, the race was just a race.

The moment you dropped a chaste kiss on his helmet, all nerves settled. When he passed by you, you brandished your sign high in the air, a beacon, the only thing he really needed to see. He won that race with his head held high and in the middle of celebration ─ his mom hugging him tight, cheers echoing all around ─ he silently dedicated his victory to you.

Because when he scanned the crowd, your eyes were the easiest to find. Because nothing ever felt better than the feeling of you running in his arms right after.

And just like that─ childhood blurred into early adolescence in a flurry of incandescent polaroids: late afternoon on track, whooping as Oscar made his laps, stolen moments on the swings at the playground between school and training, a thousand shared snacks, juice boxes, whispers, a million inside jokes and secrets. Summers spent side by side, laughter tangled in the air like something meant to last forever.

Years of Oscar and Y/N. Y/N and Oscar. No space between. No questions about what you were to each other. Not yet. 

But Oscar Piastri is fifteen when he leaves you behind.

He had been offered a seat in Formula 4. The words came in a rush, tumbling from an ecstatic Chris Piastri and an equally thrilled Nicole Piastri, their voices nearly overlapping in excitement. Oscar heard them, he knew what they were saying and yet his mind refused to catch up. He sat there, cereal spoon dangling in the air, milk dripping back in his bowl.

The world around him blurred─ static in his ears, something like disbelief flooding his veins. He had wanted this. Trained for this. But now that it was real, it was as if his body had forgotten how to move. So you did it first.

Your arms wrapped around his neck without a second thought, squeezing tight. A hug that made it impossible to do anything but exist in the moment. He unfroze: the weight of your warmth, how you clung to him without any reservation, it yanked him back. His hands had found your back, gripping instinctively. It hit him all at once: Formula 4. His dream was real. And you were here, like always.

Until you wouldn’t be anymore.

Everything slipped past Oscar in a blur: he applied to a boarding school and got accepted in the same week, his parents were already looking for a house nearby, and his mom searching for job opportunities ─ in Brighton, England, closer to where he would be practicing. A thousand kilometers away from Australia, a thousand memories away from you.

One thing you learned in your years of friendship with Oscar was that he wasn’t much of a talker. He wasn’t big on the expression of feelings either ─ he showed affection softly, when he thought people wouldn’t notice. But you did, and you never planned on doing anything about it because that was just how Oscar was: reserved, hesitant in his tenderness. So the conversation about his departure never came ─ it was just a weight, hanging in the air of your every interaction, untouched. He didn’t want to venture there, to face how he wouldn’t wake up next to you anymore after another sleepover, how he would have to learn how to exist without you at arm’s reach. The lack of you was already digging a hole in his chest, and it was one of the main reasons he said no to your proposition of a send-off party.

But Oscar knew you too, too well, so he was only half-surprised when he turned on the light of his house after training and discovered the crowd of your shared friends amidst colorful balloons and cakes. You stood out in all of them when you offered him the smile that was uniquely his, and Oscar’s chest almost collapsed.

The party was fun. He got goodbye gifts ─ trinkets, plushies and books he knew he’ll lose sleep over. He didn’t dance to the music, but enjoyed watching people lose themselves in the soft light of his kitchen from the sidelines. Some friends cried and some friends didn’t ─ he side-hugged them all, never letting them too close except for a select few, and he accepted the heartfelt speeches with reassurances that he will come back during the summer, without a doubt.

The night slowed, party leftovers forgotten on the counters, and the house was quieter now that most of the guests had filtered out. Only a few stragglers remained inside, their voices dimmed to an unobtrusive murmur. But Oscar, the supposed star of the show, was hesitating in the threshold of his front door ─ because you were outside. And wherever you went, he followed.

You were sitting on the front door steps, arms wrapped around your knees, bathed in the dim glow of the porch light. The soft hum of cicadas filled the space as Oscar sat beside you. He knew he should say something, anything. Thank you for the party, even though he swore he didn’t want one. You were right, because of course, you were. Or finally address what was begging to be talked about ─ he just didn’t know how. Because sitting right here, with you just a few inches away, he realizes this is it. 

This is the last night before everything changes, and he can’t do anything about it. So he stays silent.

“You’re freaking out,” you say. Not a question. Your observant eyes flickered to his face, gaze soft in the way that makes his breath catch.

Oscar exhales sharply, tipping his head back against the wooden railing. “Am not.”

You give him a look. The look that always calls his bullshit. “Alright, I am.” He swallows, voice quieter. “A little.”

A pause. And then─ a nudge. Your knee bumping into his. A small, familiar thing, but somehow it unravels him. His eyes are burning, and he can’t pinpoint why. “You’ll be fine, Osc’’,” you affirmed, as certain as the sun rising tomorrow. “As long as you don’t forget about me.” A quiet laugh escaped you.

And Oscar could feel it, the thick air between you, pressing against his throat and sitting on his tongue. How could he ever forget about you? You were sitting so close, staring at him as if tucking him in some secret place inside of you. Oscar hated it, so much that it finally slipped─ “I don’t want to go.”

It came out quieter than he expected. Your lips parted slightly, brows furrowed, and Oscar felt like he said too much and not enough at the same time. Because he did want to go, but what he meant was, I don’t want to go if it means leaving you, I don’t know how to exist without you in my orbit. What he really meant, he couldn’t understand what it was no matter how hard he tried.

He forced out a chuckle, shaking his head. “I mean─” Oscar cleared his throat. “I do. Obviously. It’s just─ It’s gonna be weird.”

“Yeah, it is,” you murmured, flushing against his shoulder. “But we’ll make it work.”

Oscar looked at you, really did. The way the light caught the edges of your face, the night breeze playing with your hair, how you existed so beautifully and effortlessly, as you belonged in all the places he had ever loved. The words almost slipped out: You could come with me.

It was right there, clawing its way up his throat.

Yet, something stopped him. Because it wasn’t fair. Because he didn’t know what it meant. Because he didn’t know if he was asking like a best friend or something else, and he didn’t know what to do with the way you were constricting his chest, how you pressed against his ribcage, demanding more. You looked at Oscar and he looked at you ─ he swallowed it down, staring at the playground far in front of you. 

And the moment passed.

Oscar left the day after, and the empty house was now the one next to yours.

Your hotel room was eerily quiet.

You were never known for silence ─ all your life, people had repeatedly told you about the overwhelming space you occupied, how loud your laugh echoed, how you never quite knew how to fold and pocket yourself to be less. Growing up, adults meant it in an endearing way. Now, you realized just how much the words stung, even if you never took them as insults. But here, in the uncomfortable coldness of the room you rented for the week-end, everything was quiet: no music, no you talking to yourself. Nothing.

It felt unnatural ─ like something was missing. The one thing that always reassured you about the room you took up.

It left you restless, and your hands trembled a little as you finished applying the last layer of mascara on your lashes. Maybe it was just nerves ─ after all, it’s been a while since you’ve been on a race and hung out with Hattie, Edie, Mae, Nicole, and Chris. Ever since you moved out for university, the city of Melbourne and all of the memories it held always managed to make you a bit anxious.

However, deep down, you knew. It’s the fact that for the first time in over a year, you were going to see Oscar.

Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror as you dropped your makeup next to the sink. You couldn’t decipher your own expression.

Hattie texted you out of nowhere, and even though it wasn’t unusual for you two to talk from time to time, it surprised you a bit when she asked you if you were going to the Grand Prix. It shouldn’t have, she didn’t know ─ or maybe she suspected something, but you still said you’d be coming. So Nicole was on her way to pick you up and take you to the same spot you’ve been occupying since 2023, and you’ll have to sit and act as if everything was alright, as if her son was the best friend you grew up with and didn’t become an acquaintance overnight that you occasionally exchanged “good morning”, “good night”, “happy birthday” and “how are you doing?” texts with.

Because ever since that fateful night after the Melbourne Grand Prix of 2024, something shifted between you and Oscar. Something that had been weighing on you both for years, waiting, waiting, waiting- until it finally cracked, only to narrowly miss you. And now? You didn’t know his weekly schedule, and you couldn’t remember the last time you complained about your teachers to him. You and Oscar weren’t quite strangers, but you weren’t you anymore either. 

Because whatever had been waiting that night never had a chance to be resolved. And maybe it never would.

You shut your eyes, your breathing quickening dangerously. No. You weren’t going to think about that right now. It’s fine ─ you’re just here to watch a race like you always did. Just another race. It didn't have to mean anything more than that, did it? You’ll cheer, you’ll congratulate him, and you’ll leave. Even if it was his home race. Even if it was in the same city you laughed in his backyard, held hands running in the streets, stayed awake at ungodly hours of the night tangled together, the city you had both known and lost each other.

Frankly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting─ what you even wanted this weekend to be. All you knew was that you desperately wanted to grasp at the last semblance of normalcy that used to be between Oscar and you, and if that meant showing up at the Melbourne race and praying for his car to see the checkered flag in pole position like the deepest parts of your heart weren’t screaming for him, so be it.

When Nicole called you to tell you she parked her car, you took a deep breath and walked to the elevator, carefully ignoring the sickening feeling of your stomach reminding you that, in Melbourne, there was no simply ignoring the past anymore.

Oscar Piastri is twenty when he tells you the news.

Five years have passed ever since he moved out of Australia, but no matter how the years stretched between then and now, racetracks and podium dreams, Oscar always made sure of one thing: that he’d come back. Back to his neighborhood, these streets, the quiet buzz of familiarity.

And back to you.

Time had tried its best to pull you apart with different schedules, different time zones, and places, but you two were still an unstoppable force. Y/N and Oscar. Oscar and Y/N. No matter how late the flights, how long the race weekends, how exhausting the training, he always called ─ even if it was past midnight, or he had to wake up in three hours, or he could barely keep his eyes open. Because your voice, distant and barely audible through the crackling of a bad signal, was home. And you always picked up.

Oscar missed it. He made friends in boarding school, a group of laid-back guys who filled the late hours with video games and terrible jokes, making his new world a little less foreign. He enjoyed their company, sure, but none of them were you. None of them could look at him and already know what he was thinking, like the syllables were etched in your bones, and they didn’t tilt their head up at the sky on a rusty swing set, taking him with them, and spun the world into something bigger. God, he missed that. He missed you.

Even though, sometimes, he wondered if you missed him just as much.

Obviously, since Oscar left, you had to build something for yourself in the space he left behind, and it only became more concrete when you enrolled in a university away from Melbourne. He tried to be happy for you when you did. But then you would tell him about a friend group he didn’t know the faces of, threading into the places he used to be and the places he’d never been, the ones he couldn’t visit with you like the café near your 10 a.m. lecture on Fridays. 

Sometimes, only sometimes, when he allowed himself to feel a bit more than he should, the scraps of emotions he usually denied himself ─ he was scared he didn’t belong in the new sphere you’ve constructed for yourself. That he was a dusty polaroid in a wooden box, waiting for the day you’d tuck him away.

But that had to be wrong. It had to be. Because the second your eyes found his as he stepped out of the airport, it was like nothing had changed. Like the months apart, the missed calls, the milestones he couldn’t be there for ─ none of it mattered.

The way you looked at him, like he was still your Oscar, the boy you always had known and always will, it made up for everything.

You had been there when Oscar graduated from Formula 4 to Formula 3. You had been right by his side when Formula 3 turned to Formula 2 the following year. Whether it be by phone or in person when the good news coincided with both of your trips to your childhood neighborhood. Your excited screech, your lips on his cheek twisting his stomach and painting his cheeks red, he figured it was just common sense for you to learn he’s been promoted a third time in person. He wanted to see your reaction.

Whenever you and Oscar came back, your mom would welcome you with open arms in your old home. There were only two bedrooms, one that was your mom’s, which used to be awkward for him before it became a common occurrence for you two to share a bed. Both your parents had forbidden it, but quickly gave up when you used to find a way to sneak into Oscar’s bedroom and keep him awake. Their resolve vanished entirely when they noticed quiet, untroubled Oscar started getting on it as well.

So there you were, twenty years old in your childhood bedroom, sharing a bed too small for your height. The window was half-opened, the air thick and unmoving, letting in the last shreds of sunset that danced across your skin in soft, golden streaks. You were facing each other, which allowed him to see your eyes flutter, heavy with exhaustion, your breathing slow and even as if the mere act of being near him was enough to let you rest.

Oscar flushed at that thought. You had spent hours driving just to come and get him, to fall in bed beside him, limbs tangled, words fading into the quiet comfort of home. Just to be here, with him.

He wanted to wait. Until your eyes were wide open and you were awake enough to react like you always did: in screams and hugs and plans of the future. But the warmth curling in his chest wasn’t allowing him to keep it from you any longer.

“I got a seat in Formula One,” Oscar announced in the silence of the room.

“What?” Your voice was hoarse from tiredness, but it didn’t stop your sharp gaze from snapping to his. Your lips parted, just barely, an inhale caught in your throat, and Oscar gets distracted.

He shouldn’t, not now, but─ he can’t help it.

How many times had he seen you like this? Sleep-heavy, warm with exhaustion, curled up beside him. Too many to count. Not once had it felt like this, like something heavier rested on his shoulders.

He repeats with a little difficulty, forcing himself back to the moment. “I got a seat in Formula One.” He swallows before precising, “Not Alpine. McLaren.”

You blinked. Once, twice, your brain catching up with the weight of his words. Then, before Oscar could brace himself, you were moving.

You crashed into him, as much as you could in the position you were, tucking yourself against his chest in the semblance of a hug. The pressure was nothing, still, the air was knocked out of his lungs. “You did it!” You whispered-yelled against his shoulder, voice trembling with emotion. “Oh my god, Osc’. You did it. I fucking knew you would.”

Of course, you knew. You always knew before Oscar did, before he even started believing in it himself. A scoff, wet with feelings, escaped him as his shaky fingers hovered over your ribs, processing the situation. You pulled back, just enough to look at him, pupils blown wide. The palm that wasn’t resting on his chest slipped up, featherlight, to cup his cheek. Oscar almost flinched. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but─”

“Don’t even start,” you interrupted him. “You’re going to be in Formula One! In McLaren! That’s huge, and─”

Realization hits you like a truck. “Oh my god, Daniel Ricciardo.”

Out of all the things that could have ruined the moment, Oscar wouldn’t have expected it to be Daniel Ricciardo. “Yeah,” he deadpanned. “Everyone loves Daniel. We get it. My mom said the same thing.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped you, and you shoved him a little. “Come on, it’s a shock for me!”

“It’s also pressure, but thank you so much for your consideration.”

“I congratulated you two seconds ago!”

“I’m sure Daniel would love your condolences even more.”

By that point, you were a giggling mess beneath Oscar’s hands, so much that the sound successfully got a few huffs out of him as well. The pressure of the news evaporated at each new chuckle out of your mouth, and the room was finally big enough to breathe.

Laughter died down, reduced to heavy intakes of air between half-sentences, and that’s when Oscar realized.

Your fingers, gently brushing over his cheekbones, nails grazing his skin. His palms capturing your sides as your thigh rested between his legs. He wasn’t pulling you in, clinging to you like he always did ─ instead, he froze. His heart was stuttering too fast, too loud, in a way that had nothing to do with the news he’d just shared and you simply stared at him, eyes sparkling, as if he handed you the World Driver’s Championship trophy right here and there. Waiting for something.

The heat of your body, your usual proximity, the soft cotton of the sheets did nothing to help the blood boiling in Oscar’s veins and thoughts spiraled in a blink, of what it would be like if he just let his hand roam a little lower, if your breath swept over his lips. 

Words lodged themselves in his throat, just like they did when he was fifteen, sitting on his porch. But this time, he knew. No pretense, no excuse. He was twenty years old, not a child anymore. He knew what these words were and what they wanted to be.

You could come with me. You could come to my races. You could stay. Stay with me.

His chest squeezed. His fingers twisted. His mouth stayed shut.

Because you had a life here. A life that, lately, felt like it had more and more spaces he didn’t fit into. What was he supposed to say? Drop everything? Follow me? Give up everything you built and choose me?

Oscar Piastri wasn’t a wishful thinker, he didn’t ask for things he wasn’t sure he could have ─ and he wasn’t sure he could have you. Not because he didn’t want to, he desperately wanted to, but because he still didn’t understand it. He didn’t get why you put that ache in his chest, the weight in his ribs. Why it was more painful to be away from you, to see you live without him, than his old friend group ─ he put the fault on nostalgia, but it wasn’t it. He had spent years trying to figure it out and still ─ still ─ didn’t have the answer.

So he did what he’d usually do when meaning escaped him. 

He buried it. He’ll take a look at it. He’ll figure it out later.

“Being in F1,” he cleared his throat. “It’s going to be harder, with the schedule and all that. But I promise─”

“You don’t need to,” you cut him off and Oscar noticed the light slightly dim in your eyes, then coming back like nothing happened. “We’ll make it work, we always do.”

You pulled back again, taking your hand with you and letting the cold air replace your touch. Somehow, Oscar knew he did something, but once more he didn’t know what. Instead, he let himself believe the moment was nothing more than what it had always been. Nothing more than you, his best friend, happy for him.

But as you fell asleep, the distance put by you larger than it ever was before, even by just a few millimeters, something inside of him whispered─ liar.

Oscar got in his car, and yet his mind was as far away from it as it could be. Walking out the garage, he had seen his entire family cheering for him, his mom dropping a good-luck kiss on his cheek, and he should be grounded in the moment. He should be basking in the cheers of his home crowd and the familiarity of Australian air opening his season, but he couldn't. Because there was no sign of you.

He had thrown a glance at Hattie, a silent question, and she simply shrugged. Oscar didn't know what that meant: if you excused yourself for a moment or didn't come at all. Which one he was hoping for, that was the question.

And so the formation lap started. The car was feeling good, great even ─ Oscar had done well during the testing rounds and free practices, even landing second place in qualifications right behind Lando. His chest had swelled with hope that maybe, just maybe, he could take on his home race. He brushed the podium last year, how far could he be from taking it with both hands this time?

He could hear his race engineer checking last minute details, the impatient buzzing of the crowd, the motor of his car warming up and flaring to life. It was a sound, a rhythm he could recognize eyes closed.

As the lap concluded, cars finally ready to live through 58 rounds, a streak of hair caught his eye.

If he could decipher the metre of a Grand Prix with his eyes closed, Oscar knew he could recognize the pattern of you before you even came into view. It was brief─ almost a blur, but it was more than enough.

Through the haze of rain-slicked asphalt and the relentless roar of the engine, he caught you. Standing with his family against the edge of the garage like you belonged there, which you did, hands clasped tight against your chest like you were the one in the car, navigating the turns for him. Your hair, wild from the wind, dampened by the drizzle, framing your face. God.

You came. 

After everything, you were really there.

For him.

Oscar pulled his car in P2, but the flickering red lights above him did nothing to calm his racing mind. You always watched his races like this: lived through them like they were your own. Somehow, that made it easier. The loneliness of battling against your own, the relentless push forward. You made it lighter, less suffocating. You always have been. And you were ready to watch him race again, after everything. His chest twisted, his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

And even in the current circumstances, Oscar wasn’t thinking about the race. Not at all.

For what he wished could have been the first time, but wasn’t, the car was filled with the thought of you.

Because it hits him. Like a crash, full speed, sparks flying. Why missing you hurt so much. Why, after a year of unnatural distance of swallowing down whatever had possessed him that night in Melbourne a year ago, he still felt like something lacked.

Oh.

And before he could process it all, it was lights out.

Oscar Piastri is twenty-two when he fucks it up.

The Melbourne Grand Prix didn’t go so badly, but it didn’t go well either. Oscar had been so close to getting a podium on his home race, and watching his colleague, his friend, receiving the applause of his home crowd left a bitter feeling in the back of his throat. He cheered and congratulated, because he was a good sport and genuinely happy for Lando, but the uneasiness didn’t leave him when the cameras turned off.

It was a sticky heaviness in his ribcage, glued to it like molten plastic, tightening with every half-smile and “good jobs” aimed at him. He should’ve been happy, ecstatic. But he just wasn’t.

So he forced himself to go out to celebrate anyway, even half-heartedly. He didn’t want to look like the asshole he really felt like, so he nodded at conversations he wasn’t listening to, let the bass drum against his skin in a club he didn’t even want to be into.

Oscar lasted maybe an hour.

The flashing lights felt too bright, the press of bodies too wrong for his current state of mind. The scent of alcohol curled in his nose, sharp and sour, and something in him was teetering to break the last agreeable bone in his body. As he got out of the club, he thought about how he wanted to be anywhere else but here, suffocating in his own unjustified frustration. 

The only place he wanted to be was with you.

He barely had time to see you before he got whisked away by his team and interviewers. He wanted to tell you about the race, about what he thought, because you were the only one he enjoyed being listened to by, the only one it didn’t feel awkward. No matter how much he tried to shove things down, to ignore whatever it was that had been thrumming under his skin- you were still the first person he reached for. So before he could really think about it, he’d already dialed your number. “Hey, I’m sorry, I know─ Can you hear me? Yeah? Alright. I know it’s late but… can you pick me up?”

And of course you did. Because you were Oscar and Y/N. Y/N and Oscar. Because no matter where or when─ when Oscar called, you always came.

Your car was in front of the building not even ten minutes later, and he got in. His favorite music on the aux, he smiled at the attention, easy conversation started flowing between the two of you as you drove to the driveway of your house. You didn’t ask why he left. You knew he’d talk about it when he wanted to, if you pressed on the issue he would only close up more ─ get sarcastic, avoidant.

So you both sat on your front porch, the night silent around you, still warm from the heat of the day. “... don’t think he'll be able to walk home tomorrow,” Oscar commented.

“He got third and he's still getting shitfaced like that?” You asked with a disbelieving laugh. “Wonder what will happen for his first pole position.”

“I don't even want to think about it,” he sighed. “His PR team is gonna have a field day.”

“Wonder what will happen during yours, to be honest.” You bumped your shoulder with his, something so casual that still sent the familiar shivers down his spine. “What kind of celebration are you going to pull in Australia, huh?”

The simple sentence was cold rain on Oscar’s newfound relaxation. He knew you didn’t mean it like that, you never would, but his shoulders tensed up and his gaze drifted away from yours. “Yeah, well, at the rhythm it’s going, maybe we’ll have a party when I retire.”

You threw him a glance, the kind that knew what was lying behind all of his barriers, behind the sudden phone call. Oscar let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the material of his jeans. 

“Is that why you asked me to pick you up?” You ended up asking, voice soft. You weren’t trying to pry too much, and he silently thanked you for it. For everything, really.

“I didn’t want to be there,” he answered.

There was nothing more to say: Oscar was bitter and that was the end of it ─ or maybe not, but he didn’t want to get into it tonight when the feelings were still raw, painfully open to see. Yet, your hand found his, stilling the restless motion of his hand against his thigh. Slowly, deliberately, you wove them together. Your palms, warm and steady, rested above his knee. “Then why’d you go? We could have done something. Just the both of us, y’know.”

This time, Oscar looked at you.

And it was all too much. Worry laced in the edges of your expression, the subtle scrunch of your eyebrows he would have missed if he didn’t know you as well as he did, your hand in his ─ steady, grounding. It belonged there, he thought, it always did. You cared about him, that’s what scared him at first ─ because you were sunlight, not the kind that burned but the kind that warmed. The constant, unwavering glow of a beacon that guided him, never pulled him under.

And yet, there he was. Drowning in the mess he tried to push away for so long and was coming back full force, with a simple touch of the hand.

Oscar had two drinks earlier, and it made everything too sharp, his emotions too messy. His tongue a little too loose.

“I thought if I pretended hard enough, it would go away.” He didn’t know if he was talking about the race anymore.

You scooted closer, as if sharing a secret, but the closeness was too intimate for the situation. “What would?” You asked in a whisper.

Oscar’s breath hitched at the way the streetlamps caught in your hair, how your eyes searched his. There was a shift in the air, in the barely-there space between the two of you, in the way your fingers refused to let go of the grip it had on the other.

He should let go.

But your lips parted, ever so slightly, and Oscar allowed his gaze to dip to them. He kissed girls before, he even had a few short-lived relationships, but none of them ever felt right, like they belonged in a lasting manner in his life. They always felt like placeholders for something else, something more, less of a daunting feeling in his guts. He never really told you about it ─ it had always been an unspoken rule in your friendship, without knowing why. Now, he had a sneaky, unnerving suspicion.

Oscar kissed girls before, but he never kissed you.

He didn’t know if it was a mistake. He didn’t know if he should cross that line, but God he wanted to ─ he only knew that he wasn’t sure of what was waiting for him on the other side of it. His heart hammered in his chest, so hard he was afraid you’d hear it. You leaned in, imperceptibly, and your warm breath brushed against his lips. If he let himself, just for a second─ one tiny, irreversible second─ he would kiss you.

He was close. Too close. Feelings were too many. He needed to tell you before something could happen.

“Come with me,” Oscar blurted out, in a murmur along the shape of your lips, a plea in the leftover space.

And just like that, he felt the moment slip away from him. Your eyes, now sharp, snapped to him in a swift movement. And that’s when he knew. That wasn’t the right thing to say or do.

“What?” Your voice was quiet, laced with disbelief. Confusion swirled in your pupils, wondering if you misheard or if he misspoke.

Maybe he had. Maybe this wasn’t how it was supposed to come out- not here, not now, not like this.

“I- Uh…,” Oscar stammered. “Come with me. Stay. For the next races.” Please.

You pulled away, and the lack of you in his space caused his head to spin, his heart still beating violently against his chest, this time in panic. What did he do?

“What are you asking me exactly, Osc’?”

The question of the day. Because what was he asking, really? To be there for the few days in between flights and training and traveling and pretending his world wasn’t moving too fast for him to catch his breath? Sit in the stands, waiting for him to make up his mind about something he had been wondering about for the past fourteen years? Because what did he mean, and why couldn’t he understand?

It wasn’t fair. Not to you.

He swallowed, throat tight with something he couldn’t name and suddenly the night was too cold to stay outside anymore. Oscar forced out a weak chuckle, like it was just some stupid joke as if the word hadn’t crawled out of his chest on their own. “I meant─” He ran a quick hand through his hair. “Ha. Never mind. Forget it.”

And this time, when the light dimmed in your eyes, it didn’t come back. You won’t forget it. Because you saw right through him. Still, you didn’t push ─ every time you did, disappointment crawled over you like insects. After a beat of silence, one that felt like a lifetime, you exhaled, something fragile flashing across your features before you masked it with a tight-lipped smile. He hated it.

You nodded. “Sure.” Just that. Oscar didn’t know what he was expecting. No questions, accusations.

But that was almost worse, you let him get away with it, with the almost, with all of it.

When you both went to sleep that night, it was the first time in forever you didn’t sleep in the same bed. You pretended to have a headache, said you’d join him once it settled down. Oscar fell into slumber alone. 

For some reason, it felt like losing.

Saying to have known love at eight years old would have to be a lie, but Oscar knew you jump-started his heart the minute your laugh echoed in his ear at that playground, fifteen years ago.

He had been pathetically doomed from the start.

From the first glance, to the first laugh, to when your fingers grazed his when you took the controller to his truck ─ a touch so small that had burned itself into his memory like a brand. He was too young to understand what it meant at fifteen when he sat beside you on his porch. Too blind to recognize it at twenty, lying in your childhood bedroom and hands fisting the sheets to stop them from reaching for you. Too scared to act on it last year, close enough to touch and closer than you had been in years and he still let the moment pass him.

The truth was simply this: no matter what, Oscar had always known. Maybe not at eight, maybe not at fifteen. But deep inside, he had always, always known. And he had spent every year since then trying to ignore it.

Not anymore. He couldn’t ─ not when he messed it up last time. Not when he was on the verge of losing you for good.

Oscar Piastri loves you, like a madman, and he needed to tell you like someone drowning needed air.

But to do that, he’d have to get out of the patch of grass he got himself into first.

The track was slippery due to the rain, and a simple mistake could lead to tragic circumstances: this was one of them. Oscar was stuck in the grass of the circuit after a turn he took too narrowly. He lost his P2, the one of his home race he had been searching for since last year. The scream of frustration he let out had earned a pained groan from his race engineer, and to make it worse, he was apparently already written as Out.

But that wouldn’t happen. Because Oscar didn’t go after things he knew he couldn’t have ─but he knew he could have this race. He could finish it. He wouldn’t DNF.

And after he’d be done with it, he’d go after you.

So he dragged himself out under the cheers of his home crowd, an ecstatic buzz in his ears. The last of the laps passed in an angry blur: Oscar was driven by sheer determination, rage even, he could barely remember overtaking Hamilton, fighting his way to P9, and grabbing as many points as he could have in his situation. He could do it.

The race ended in a flurry of applause, some of them surprisingly directed at him. Oscar tried to get out of his car as fast as he could but under the special circumstances of his race, he knew getting past the journalists and commentators was going to be almost impossible. And it was, because as soon as he put a foot on paddock ground, he was swarmed by microphones, cameras, and flashing lights, waiting for every tear to turn into a headline that people would twist and shape.

A few hours passed by the time he was finally able to reach his family. After the regular hugs and reassurances, one of the first things his mom said was: “That’s too bad you just missed Y/N, she had to go back. I wish she could have stayed, she always knows what to say to you,” with motherly little taps on the cheek.

Oscar felt a hole opening in his chest. “She left?” He asked, trying to muster as much nonchalance as he could. 

It wasn’t very efficient, as Nicole gave him the kind of look you’d give to a kicked puppy. “Yeah, she did.” Quickly, she added, “She didn’t go back to her hotel, though. I asked to drop her off and she refused, saying she had somewhere to be.”

It was as vague as it could possibly get, maybe because you didn’t want Oscar to seek you out. But he needed to, he had to get it off his chest before your relationship could worsen ─ and he couldn’t do that by text or calls, for the little you exchanged over the past year. He had to know if the little gap you almost crossed on that front porch meant something and could have been something if he hadn’t fucked it up. If it was too late for it to become something now. And knowing you, you’d be gone by tomorrow morning.

Oscar dashed. 

He got into his car, drove too fast under the intensifying rain. There was no time to waste for him. What he was thinking about was a long shot, an extremely long one for a non-wishful thinker, but if today put you in the same state as him ─ there was a chance, a small one, that you’d be there. 

When he pulled into your childhood neighborhood, his drenched windshield made the road and its surroundings almost indiscernible. But right before the little street leading to both of your houses, he passed by that old, worn-down playground that somehow stood against the test of time, with its rusted swing set and old dirt roads. But his breath didn’t catch on that, no.

It caught on you, sitting on the lower branches of the tree you spied him on at eight.

Oscar had never parked so hastily. He never ran so fast, soaking the McLaren hoodie he put on in a rush before going out. His hair stuck to his forehead and when he reached the dry soil underneath the tree you were hiding on. Arms around yourself, staring in the empty, like you were holding yourself together.

He hesitated momentarily, and all the fears plaguing his mind the past years came rushing back. What if it was too late? What if all he’d get was a final goodbye?

Then you turned, and your gaze found his in the settling dark. All doubts vanished at the same moment ─ he’d rather regret saying too much and grasp at the chance of something than live the rest of his life in silence, drowning in the regrets of saying nothing at all.

“Y/N,” he called, a little strangled, arms dangling at his side.

“Oscar?” You frowned, jumping the small distance separating you from the ground. “What-? How’d you know─?”

“I… guessed.”

“Oh.”

Silence. The incessant rhythm of the rain filled the space as you both stared each other down. Waiting. What was he supposed to say now? “So… uh. How are you?”

Your eyes widened, and a scoff escaped you. “How am─?” You crossed your arms on your chest, staring at Oscar like he had grown a second head ─ and maybe he had, because he couldn’t even try to think straight. “I’m good, Oscar. Great. How was the race?”

“It was─” He stopped, swallowed. It felt plastic, strange ─ the distance, the iciness. Both of you knew you weren’t really inquiring about the race, you knew him better than anyone and probably guessed how it felt already, and he wasn’t really inquiring about you.

It was the first time you saw each other after last year, and everything felt more real. Heavy.

“Did you forget how to talk, Osc’?”

Osc’. You haven't called him that in a long time.

A nervous chuckle escaped him. You were so far and so close at the same time, hair frizzy from the dampness, knees scratched from your recent climb ─ he missed you, you were right there and he still missed you, because you were slowly slipping through his fingers. The last bit of his resolve crumbled.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Oscar never showed too much emotion. But here he was, drenched by the rainfall, eyes open and raw. And you didn't know what to do with that. You shifted on your feet. “For what?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair, frustration bleeding into the gesture. “You know what for.”

“That’s not enough. Not anymore.” Your voice was laced with barely contained emotions, strangling you.

He knew. Oscar stepped forward tentatively, just once. Enough to make you look up at him, and he held your gaze even as it twisted with the kind of hurt he never wanted to be responsible for, but had to be faced with. Because he had. And he had to own up to it ─ so everything spilled out.

“I fucked up, last year. Big time.” His voice cracked. He couldn’t care less. “And I know- shit, I know I’m probably too late. I should’ve said something back then, but I didn’t know how or what or why.”

“I was scared. Not just of ruining things, even though it was a part of it, but of─ of what it meant. I didn’t understand, Y/N. I didn’t get why you were the first person I looked for in a room, why I felt so goddamn lost when I moved out and you weren’t there anymore, why seeing you living your own life without me was─ I don’t know, I guess I’m selfish or something.” His throat burned. “And that night─ here, last year─ I should’ve known. Fuck, I think I knew long before then but I was just so blind. When I asked you to come with me, and we─ I should’ve known why. I did. I just─ I didn’t want to mess it up. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Oscar let out a short, breathless laugh, shaking his head. “But I did anyway. I messed it all up because I couldn’t make up my mind, and I don’t blame you if you don’t─ if you can’t─”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

The rain pattered against the dirt and the surrounding pavement, unrelenting, like both of your heartbeats. Oscar’s fingers twitched, aching to reach for you ─ but he wouldn’t do it. Not unless you let him.

Finally, you spoke. “You’re the biggest idiot I met in my entire life, Osc’. You’re so stupid.”

Your voice was teary, but you didn’t cry. You weren’t angry. You weren’t turning away. You simply stared at him, lips parted ─ barely smiling, but it was there.

Oscar blinked rapidly, taken aback. “I know,” he admitted, his voice a whisper, “but I love you.”

There it was. After fifteen years, there it was: the plain truth, out in the open for you to see. What he spent his time running from, what he should have told you so long ago.

You didn’t react. Your eyes widened, a sharp inhale went through your mouth and you stared, frozen in place. Oscar panicked. “I understand if you don’t─ I mean, after everything, I get it if─ Or, or maybe I misread, but─”

“Say it again.”

Your voice was authoritative. Hopeful. And this time, a tear slid down your cheek. His heart skipped a bit. “I love you.”

And Oscar Piastri is twenty-three when he kisses you for the first time.

Your hands grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt, pulling him to you. The crash of your lips against his was sudden, but it didn’t take Oscar long to find a rhythm ─ not when it made so much sense, not when it felt so right. Finally.

A shudder rippled through him, something snapping back into place. It was messy, desperate ─ years of missed chances spilling out at once. You exhaled against his mouth and Oscar felt it everywhere, in the way his fingers trembled when he cupped your cheeks, how his knees almost buckled when you got closer, in the way his world narrowed down to just you. His mouth against yours. Fuck.

You pulled away, just for a second. “Osc─”

“Not yet,” he rasped. And he captured your lips a second time, choking out any other words.

How had he gone so long without this? Without knowing what it was like to have you like this?

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips. Desire, want, love, all of it blurred in the way his fingers wove into your hair, when he slowly brought them down to your waist, pulling you against him, hungry, greedy.

If he wanted you to come with him so badly the past few years wasn’t because he needed you at his side ─ he still did, but that wasn’t the gist of it. Now that you were falling apart against his lips, hands making a mess of his rain-drenched hair, he knew he had wanted you next to him because he wasn’t allowing himself to have you. He had wanted you in his chest, curled beneath his ribs, a part of him so irrevocably that no miles, no years, no silence could ever pull you away.

And now, he had you. Shit, if that wasn’t like ascending to heaven felt like, he didn’t know what would.

You put a hand on his chest, slowly, and when you separated Oscar found himself longing for more, for every instance he passed on. Yet, the wide smile on your face stopped him ─ because you looked perfect like this, bright and open, taking up space. That’s why he fell in love with you.

“I love you too. So much,” you said, and the words softly blossomed in Oscar’s chest like spring. He dropped his forehead against yours.

“Me too. I love you. You don’t even know,” he breathed out, his lips slowly dropping a kiss on your forehead. “It feels so good to say it. To know.”

You grabbed the string of his hoodies, toying with them as you’d usually do, but every single one of your actions sent another wave of heat in Oscar’s neck when he remembered what you tasted like. “You could’ve felt good about it earlier, y’know.”

He arched a teasing eyebrow at you and you giggled. “I’m sorry, but the realizing-i’m-in-love-with-my-childhood-best-friend didn’t really come with an instruction material. The confession either.”

“You were pretty dramatic, true, with the rain and the running,” you laughed. “It was gonna be pretty easy for me last year, honestly. Until you bailed.”

Oscar groaned, and his head dropped on your shoulder. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?”

“Oh yeah, you’re in for a long ride, Piastri.” A long ride. That sounded amazing.

Realization hit him at full force, harder than a crash. “Wait, what do you mean last year?”

Your hand went up, wiping a raindrop dripping down his cheek, and the look you gave him was overflowing with fondness. “I mean that before you tried to kiss me, that night, I would’ve told you I’ve been in love with you ever since I started spying on you at the playground.”

“You…?” Oscar’s mouth dropped open. Had he really been that blind? How many signs had he missed, exactly? “How─”

You kissed him. A quick, hard peck on the lips, but that was enough to shut him up and get him to melt against you once more. “Let’s not talk about it here. I’m cold, and I think it’s the type of discussion that’s too long to have outside,” you said, slipping your hand in his. “My mom would love to make us coffee, if you want.”

Oscar sighed at the familiar feeling, fingers tangling with yours in a well-known pattern. He missed the both of you, and now he got to have it in a better way. “You’re sure? I’d love to, but is your mom─”

“Don’t even worry. She’s been calling me Mrs. Piastri for years now, I think the news will move her to tears.”

So you runned back to the porch of your house where you’d sat years ago, drenched in the deluge but happier than you’ve ever been. Oscar loved you, he knew now. And you loved him back, it was worth the rain, the missed opportunities, the hesitation and the heart wrenching confessions that will follow as you sit down.

You were worth the vulnerability, Oscar thought when you crossed the threshold. You were worth everything.

A year later, Oscar is standing in pole position for the Australian Grand Prix of 2026.

Qualifications went great, keeping the fastest lap position for all rounds. He was confident in his capacity ─ last year had tested his patience and goodwill, but he only came out stronger, more resilient.

The home race curse was a popular saying in Formula One, and sadly he fell victim to it ever since he put his feet in a McLaren in 2023. He had hoped to win the Melbourne race, to bring back the trophy under the cheers of his home crowd and the screams of his family ─ but this year wasn’t for hoping: if there was one thing you taught him, it is that hoping never achieved anything. Actions did. And he was going to win the Australian Grand Prix.

You were standing in your usual spot, orange headphones on, all in smiles and shouts. Hattie next to you playfully shoved an elbow in your ribs to get you to quiet down, which only made you louder. Oscar was persuaded he could hear you above the sound of his race engineer. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe the thought of you swirled around every mechanism of his car like it always did.

Today marked one year since you and Oscar got together. Since the kiss, the realization, the heartfelt confessions above a steaming cup of gingerbread coffee in the middle of summer because your mom affirmed it was a big occasion before leaving the two of you alone. And the fifteen years it took for you to finally get to that point were a painful obstacle of unsaid and what ifs, taking a few months to finally get out of the way, and plenty of awkward conversations ─ but how beautiful was the other side of it.

Devotion and love, gentle and kind. The impulsive dates, the good morning kisses when Oscar had enough time to come and visit, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back, “Oscar Piastri’s partner” on the screen when the camera was pointing at you during races, the weekend getaways.

Oscar noticed the large, varsity top hung on you, a bright orange with the large number 81 written in white. Just underneath, the words Mrs. Piastri were written in a similar font. You had it custom-made a few months into the relationship, simply because the comment about your mother the day he kissed you became a regular inside joke between the two of you.

It made Oscar’s heart flutter every time you wore it.

He observed the red lights above him, flickering out one by one. He thought about it: how the fifteen years of being apart made every day spent with you seem like too little, how he couldn’t get enough of you and how he didn’t want to.

Suddenly, Oscar couldn’t wait for the race to end. Because he was going to keep his P1 with his skills and the speed of his car, and brandish the trophy high on the podium for the country who raised him. Because after, he will rush out in your arms and kiss you until the air in his body runs out. Because he had a girl to get, and plans to make.

Because even though it was only a year spent together, Oscar Piastri is twenty-four when he decides he wants to marry you, and he was not about to wait fifteen more years to make it happen.

©DRGNSFLY 2k25 ─ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[yuurei20]

hihi! so sorry if this has been answered before, but i remember jade mentioning that when he came to land, he found interest in manholes & the different decorations on them before dropping that in favor of hiking, but i can't find it and im starting to believe it was someone else, or that i mistook a fanon hc for canon? all this to say, is that actually true?

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🐬

You are 100% correct! ^^ Jade's love of manholes is shared in his platinum birthday vignette!

He explains that he was interested in them before even coming onto land, and at one point he had collected hundreds of unique-manhole-design merchandise, though his interests have since shifted to mountains, instead.

And unique manhole-design-based merchandise is very much a thing, including coasters, keychains, cookies and more!

Designs are usually for the local city, but sometimes they can also feature pop culture such as Pokemon ^^

And added bonus from Jade's vignette: his story of the time he rode in a two-person swan boat alone, pedaling both sets of pedals by himself 🦢

He invites Riddle to go with him the next time 🌹

[interestingturnofthetables]

I really really wish we saw more of Mabel and Ford bonding in canon. They’re both such interesting and strange characters who would be such an iconic duo. They share so many characteristics with each other that the series tends to gloss over in favour of the more ‘obvious’ comparisons of “smart twins” & “silly twins” and just HOW upsetting is that? I mean, even as early as season 1 (Dipper vs Manliness, Carpet Diem, Boyz Crazy, Dreamscapers, to name the stand out ones) we’re shown comparisons between Stan and Dipper, but as soon as Ford enters the story it’s like they throw it out the window.

Dare I say, Mabel and Ford are a more interesting and exciting duo than Dipper and Ford. And I feel that exploring their relationship would’ve added a lot more exciting nuance to the tail end of the series.

I get more into the dynamics between Dipper, Mabel & Ford under the cut

Dipper, obviously, is going to be obsessed with bonding with THE author of THE journals. But imagine his reaction to his sister spending more time with him than he gets to! Think of a dynamic that mirrors the episode Little Dipper, however I don’t see there being such a quick resolution in this case. Finding the author of the journals was supposed to be DIPPER’s thing, after all! And Mabel is constantly trying to butt her head into their relationship, and Ford doesn’t even seem at all irritated, it even seems like he might enjoy Mabel’s company over Dipper’s sometimes (we saw how he acted with the Robbie/Wendy situation. You can’t tell me he wouldn’t act like this here too)

But to Mabel, she has a new grunkle who also wears sweaters in summer, and is a little different from others just like her, and compliments - even encourages - her grappling hook usage. On top of all that, Dipper must be so excited that they finally found the author of his journal! This is just a super awesome fun new discovery for both of them to remember this summer as they go through the next school year.

So when Ford eventually asks dipper to be his apprentice (and he would still ask this. Even if he’s close with Mabel, he’d be amiss to ignore the obvious love of their shared passion in the paranormal), while Mabel is struggling to plan their joint 13th birthday party, of course he jumps at the opportunity! This is his chance to finally get to know the author and learn so much without his sister getting in the way!

Mabel would hear this, and of course react similarly to canon. However, on top of feeling betrayed by dipper, she would feel very hurt by her new grunkle, who she thought loved hanging out with her and their fun hijinks, could just throw her aside in favour of her brother (based on Little Dipper, we know Mabel’s struggled with that feeling before. And Dipper perpetuating it once again, along with Ford, this new adult in her life can not be easy). I can see Dipper reacting rather selfishly at her hurt here, and raising his justification for his choice to stay with Ford, something that would definitely include the notion that Mabel just “gets in his way”.

I could continue, but essentially it boils down to Mabel having more of a reason to run off during D&MvsTF. (This isn’t to say her reaction in canon isn’t justified, it is. This version of events would just hit harder I think). I’m not entirely sure how the B(ill)lendin rift situation would play out, but if Bill knew that Mabel was not only hurt by her brother, but by Ford, he would certainly play into that and I think that would be interesting. Not to mention, Mabel & Ford post-Weirdmageddon reconciliation would go so hard!

Do people see the vision? Please I can’t stop thinking about it.

[harrysgal]

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (12)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

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PART 11 // MASTERLIST

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I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 12) — STILL IN NYC

liked by bestfriend, lookitsnyoh, sisterinlaw and 47,813 others

yourinstagram nyc this is not a drill: my favorite person in the whole wide world is here and even tho she’s just arrived she’s not wasting any time!! i mean ive barely recovered from how freaking good the show was but im already out here having yet another greatest night thanks to her. god i missed you ＠bestfriend lets find you a fake job too so you never leave my side okay? okay love youuuuuuu  

view all 319 comments

bestfriend COUNTDOWN IS OVERRRRRR bestfriend WE FINALLY MEET AGAINNNNN  bestfriend WHERE IS MY PIZZAAAAAA user3 the chaotic energy i get from these two is so healing istg  harrystyles I feel betrayed

↳ yourinstagram no boys allowed when it’s girls night ↳ bestfriend you’re invited next time tho we’ll make an exception

harryfan1 harry can you please just follow her already ftlog you’re here all the time anyway  harryfan5 aaaaaaaa it happened it finally happened!! user1 omg I’m so happy for you, so excited! I guess this means she’s going to the second show, right? 🤩 harryfan3 OKAY BUT I NEED TO KNOW ＠bestfriend did you meet harry already or?? I mean how was it are you okay did you fangirl PLS SHARE user2 is ＠bestfriend getting her own short video like your mom did? 

↳ harryfan7 omg that’s so true I remember when that came up she was doing those videos all the time and now we haven’t gotten one in so long 😭

Oct 3, 2021 •

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liked by harryfan1, user1, ynrryfan and 317 others

ynupdates Hey guys! As many of you already know, ＠bestfriend turned her ig private right when Yn joined Harry Styles on tour and her number of followers it’s pretty low.

Luckily for us, as soon as we created the account and started posting about Yn, she followed us. We were only able to follow her back after a little while, but since then we’ve been able not only to stay in touch with her but also to keep up with her posts.

All this time we’ve been very supportive and respectful of her privacy and never shared any pictures or information related to Yn (or even mentioned anything existed in the first place). 

This weekend, though, the two best friends are finally reunited ❤️ it was a surprise for all of us, and the excitement we felt when we saw these stories was really hard to contain. So… We reached out to ＠bestfriend and asked if we could share these with you — to which she very kindly said yes! (if we promised to cover yn’s face, of course)

With that being said, we hope you enjoy these glimpses posted by Yn’s best friend during the day. Pictures include them sightseeing in NYC this morning, the cutest pose by the one and only Harry Styles, a cake from backstage at the Madison Square Garden, and Yn doing her job right before the show! 

We’re so happy and so thankful that we get to freak out about all this with you! Share your thoughts with us, and let’s show our love to the coolest best friend who is also the most supportive we’ve ever seen! 

view all 99 comments 

user1 ahhh!! I follow her too and I freak out every time I see anything. I’m so happy to know she was okay with you guys sharing this ❤️ user2 uh-oh… this place is about to get so crowded… harryfan1 oh my goodness look at him???!??!???? harryfan3 they’re all hanging out together?! I need more details pls user3 let me innnnnnnn  user4 everyone say THANK YOU BESTIE

↳ user5 THANK YOU BESTIE ↳ harryfan5 THANK YOU BESTIE 

user6 I’m not a fan of Harry Styles but damn he looks hot harryfan7 guys I’m so jealous I wanna follow her too :(((( harryfan9 okay but what if she posts about the show?? and more pictures of him?? will you share everything with us???

↳ harryfan11 say yes please ↳ ynupdates only if she’s okay with it :) we will never share anything without her consent! 

harryfan13 real talk now: how many secrets have you been keeping all to yourself since you’ve followed her?

↳ ynupdates 🫣🤐

ynrryfan THOSE ARE MY PARENTS AND MY MOTHER�� ynrryfan THANK YOU ＠bestfriend WE LOVE YOU ynrry THANK YOU ＠ynupdates WE LOVE YOU TOO harryfan8 ???? wtf 

Oct 4, 2021 •

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liked by bestfriend, annetwist, harrystyles and 51,335 others

yourinstagram second show in nyc is over guys 🥺 

gosh im supposed to be out celebrating rn but ive been in my hotel room staring and smiling at the only two pics i took tonight. i honestly cant believe how genuinely happy i feel. i never tried to hide how much i love harry’s music, or how to be able to watch him perform my favorite songs every night is a dream come true for me. but then to be there with ＠bestfriend singing and dancing to OUR favorite songs is something so extraordinary i cant even imagine putting it into words. she was there when i needed someone to push me so i finally started posting videos on youtube, she cheered me on, and she supported me all the way through every achievement. but above all that, she was also there when i was going through the lowest period of my life. when i didnt want to leave my bed and when i could barely recognize myself anymore. she was there and she never let go of my hand. just like she still wont let go of it until this day. life isnt perfect and not every day is the happiest, but every day i feel the luckiest for having such an amazing friend next to me. ily bestie and thank you for sharing this moment with me!

also and finally (before someone comes knocking on my door and yelling at me for how late i am…….), i just wanna warn you that i’ll be the most annoyingly happy person in nyc tonight. i had the greatest time of my life and im so over the moon that im not the least embarrassed of being this emotional or this dramatic or this unbothered by my silly grammar and punctuation!! lol all jokes aside these people around me make me smile everyday and there’s nothing but gratitude and love towards them. thank you thank you thank you. to all of you. my favorite fake friends. you smashed it tonight and im sure madison square garden had never seen such talented gorgeous wonderful people take over a stage like you did the past two days. im proud and ily all. 

view all 479 comments

bestfriend shut up bestfriend did we just post pictures of the same moment? bestfriend we so did! bestfriend ugh i love you so much there are no words to describe it bestfriend my fav song was even included on the set list i feel like i won the lottery or something  lookitsnyoh there’s nothing but gratitude and love towards you, too 🧚 pillowpersonpp Let’s cheers to that tonight! user1 ahh, i love your friendship! user1 also i just remembered when you bought harry’s album with your first paycheck and you mentioned something about your ex being jealous so he didn’t want you to buy it? 

↳ harryfan55 wait, what? Where did you see that? ↳ user1 she posted about it months ago  ↳ bestfriend hahahaha ↳ bestfriend thats so true and im so drinking to that tonight

annetwist ❤️ harryfan4 I’m sorry (I’m not) but there’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind about you ynrryfan this tour is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me harryfan5 please never change harryfan7 wheres harry am i finally here before him???

↳ harryfan9 lol im afraid he only liked the post this time

Oct 4, 2021 •

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— — — — — 

PART 13 — (soon)

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Tag list: @tchlamqtsgf @theekyliepage @deamus-liv @hotchnersangel @gem1712 @firelordzu @stylessbean @this-is-tiny-mia — PLEASE READ: I’ll only add to the next tag list those who interact with this post. I hope you understand, thank you for your excitement. 

[friend-shaped-but]

Yugandhar liveblog part 3

I broke my record today, for the past two parts I was only able to read 6-7 pages in one sitting, but today I read 18 pages in one sitting, and I'm super happy about it!!

It's so idk how to describe it, but the descriptions of olden style kitchen utensils reminded me of my grandmother's kitchen. I realized then that I do know a lot of the words, I had just forgotten them after moving out and us getting a new kitchen setup which didn't contain a lot of traditional utensils.

The names Yashoda uses for Krishna, "Chhakulya", "Sonya" are nicknames I was called as a kid. My cousin had told me that the first section was going to be very cute and I had not counted on it being THIS cute... or nostalgic, more like.

I noticed a similarity with Mrityunjay here... Radha tells Karna to not play by the river much, and Yashoda also tells Krishna to not play by the yamuna that much. Now. They're both little shits who disobeyed that thing but ig that's another similarity.

I was reminded of @sambhavami's fortune teller scene when I read that same scene in this and then I checked when Shri Krishna serial was released, was a solid 6 years before this book got published. That scene has(possibly) inspired so many people, damn. I feel like I need to watch that. But yeah, that monologue went on for 3-ish pages and I had to work REALLY hard to not lose track or get bored.

We're BACK to framing Krishna as a thinker/philosopher in this and I am eating that shit up.

We're deifying Krishna from the time he's a baby and I am NAWT here from it. I'd have loved it more if it was gradual.

SANKUDADA. that's it that's the next bullet point

EKANANGA REP MY BELOVED. 3 MENTIONS OF HER IN A SINGLE PAGE. was the author thinking, "surhut can have eka scenes. as a treat." before I was even born?? This shit is so cute mannnnn, lemme quote the lines "I began to turn, but stopped when I felt someone- a little kid- grab my leg. That was my little sister, about two years old, the sister who called me kutnadada and whom I loved more than life, Ekananga- ekaa. She never used to leave my side. She smiled so sweetly that I couldn't help but pick her up. I kissed her forehead and ruffled her hair and handed her off to dada."

Hmm I don't like the part about names in mathura seeming familiar to him or him having spidey senses for Devaki. idk man it's weird

Ok I have now acquired lots of inspo for Gopaverse and ohot and my other wip about Sutasoma as well. I'm so glad

The friends' overreverance also reads very weird. Dude don't start that shit so soon, wait until he's killed a few monsters... But I have a feeling that isn't going to be included in this. Issok valid but it still feels a bit rushed. Then again our working assumption is that he is telling this while on his deathbed so I can forgive the pacing ig.

The radha scenes either feel awkward or I am too aroace for this shit

ANOTHER similarity btwn Mrityunjay and Yugandhar: The DELICIOUS internal conflict. The barrage of questions they get about themselves their identity and their place in the world.

FINALLY the wrestling scenes are starting thank you sir for giving me excellent worldbuilding I love this. I've tabbed this for both worldbuilding AND character(Bheem, Vishoka, Panchalya, Sutasoma) building.

"I felt like the entirety of Gokul was my home now.

ok stopping for now, will continue later. It's also finals month in April so next post will be late

Part 1 Prev

Obligatory song rec: halla dhoom dhadakka- Pandavaas

[alicia-18]

Second Choice — Eminem x reader

Summary; Y/N was used to being a second choice to everyone, so it didn’t surprise her at all when Marshall broke off their situationship in order to give things a try with Kim again. But she was surprised by the emotions that came with it.

Warning; this fic will include mentions of domestic violence (not between Em and Y/N), drug and alcohol abuse, adult content, swearing, idiots in love, and moments where you hate both Eminem and yourself :)

Chapter Two; I think my dad’s gone crazy!

A bead of sweat fell down your temple as you finished perfecting the recording of the chorus to one of the final songs on your upcoming album. Dre had an eyebrow arched at you as you left the booth and entered the production room.

“What? Was it not a good take?” You huffed, taking a gulp from your beer glass. The flavour was awful when you first began drinking it, but it had grown on you over the years and worked as a good warm up to the harder liquor you often found yourself indulging in later in the night.

“Nah sounds great.” He shrugged, make you give him an odd look. Your body collapsed onto the little couch, and you pulled your notepad onto your lap to quickly go over the lyrics to ensure that wasn’t what Dre’s look had been for.

“Spit it out then, Dre.” You huffed, not finding anything particularly wrong with the song. The knowing look he was giving you was becoming suffocating.

“Second choice?” He questioned the title of the song, taking a gulp from his own drink and pulling out a blunt which he promptly sparked before continuing. “Thought ya didn’t care ‘bout Em and Kim?” He bluntly asked, sending a slight flush to the apples of your cheeks. You blamed that on the alcohol as you finished the bottle.

“I don’t, this song ain’t about them.” Dre didn’t look convinced by the declaration. You weren’t sure if it was your growing buzz or just the trust you had built with the producer over the last couple years, but you felt a need to let him in slightly. “I’ve always been second choice. My mom left when I was a baby for some dude in Canada, dad always chose drugs or women over me. And all of my boyfriends have cheated on me. Fuck, I’ve barely even been a second choice to people.” You laughed humourlessly at the revelation, and happily accepted his silent offer of the blunt.

“Well the song’s gonna be a hit, that’s for sure.” He smiled warmly, though didn’t seem to be finished. Now it was you staring at him with a raised brow. “You deserve more credit. You’ve gone through enough shit for’a lifetime, and stand on business for everyone around ya. I don’t think you see it but you don’t even put you first. If everyone else makes ya a second choice, why not make yourself a first choice?” His words hit like a punch to the gut, and left you frozen for a moment. You blinked back at him, his words sinking in and stabbing your soul. He was right, of course, and if anyone was in a place to tell you the hard truths you needed to hear, it was him. He had seen you right from the start, and you wouldn’t be in the position you was in currently without him.

That next week you had fully taken Dre’s words in and was doing something you hadn’t done in a while that you enjoyed — going to the club with your girls. You couldn’t remember the last girls night you had, so to say it was overdue wasn’t an exaggeration. You hadn’t even gone to the studio that day, deciding that the entire weekend for yourself. But as fate seemed to control your life, you had to pop there quickly on your way to the club as you had left your favourite purse there the day before and wanted to feel perfect that night.

You had already had a few shots before arriving, as you preferred arriving to the club with a moderate buzz already going. That, however, made walking in your black heels over the halls carpeted floor a lot harder. Your instability made you sigh with relief once you had reached the linoleum flooring of the break room. Your E/C eyes searched the room before landing on the duo sat on the small couch which also just happened to be where you left your purse.

Marshall’s eyes fell on you as soon as the door creaked open, and his stare flicking to the door made Hallie turn around also. She stared at you with wide blue eyes, a little gasp sounding. “Is that Y/N, dad?!” She excitedly spoke, looking between the two adults. You smiled apologetically to him, feeling as if you were crossing a line by meeting his daughter. “I love your music!” She confessed, her bright smile warming your heart.

You grinned back and made your way over, making sure to pull your short mini skirt down a little to appear slightly more modest infront of the child. “Well that’s funny cause I love your song too!” You giggled, stopping infront of the pair. Hailie looked up at you with pinched brows, so you crouched down to be eye level with her. You tried your best to copy her little voice as you sang “I think my dad’s gone crazy!” which sent her into a heap of laughter.

“What’re you doing here anyway?” Marshall finally spoke, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent smiling. His words reminded you of what you had came here for as you reached between his side and the arm of the couch. You heard his breath falter a little, but it didn’t last long as you pulled your purse into your clutches.

“Left this here yesterday, I’m going out with the girls and wanna look my best.” You shrugged, lifting the metal chained handle over your bare shoulder.

“You do look very pretty.” Hailie complimented with a smile, one which warmed you even more to the adorable little girl. You leant over and gave her a high five, making you both giggle. Marshall watched on with a baffling mix of emotions, a mix he didn’t appreciate.

“Thank you, so do you Hailie! It’s been so nice to meet you, your dad tells everyone just how great you are all the time.” You were shocked as she jumped from her seat and wrapped her arms around your waist. You eyes went wide and looked immediately to Marshall, definitely feeling like you were overstepping now.

“Hallie, I think Y/N has somewhere to be.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and continued chewing the inside of his mouth. You gave her a quick squeeze so she didn’t feel like you were being mean or rude then stepped back.

“It was so cool meeting you!” She beamed, sending a rush of warmth to your cheeks. You had never expected meeting Marshall’s kids, at all, but you immediately liked Hailie. She seemed so happy, and was obviously lovely to everyone.

“It was so nice meeting you too, Hailie. Have a good time with your dad.” You gave them both a little wave before your phone began ringing. You flicked it open and accepted it, and your best friend began shouting down the phone.

“Yeah yeah I’m coming, Jesus woman—“ You put your hand over the speaker and moved it from your face to address the father daughter duo infront of you. “I’d love to stay and chat but I’ve really gotta go. It really was so nice to meet you Hallie, I’ll see you Monday, Em.” You accepted a second high five from the 9 year old girl before lifting the phone back to your ear and scurrying from the room.

MASTERLIST

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 46

Notes: Sorry about not updating last week! I sort of was dogsitting. And had migraines because of the weather and pressure and shit. And I just got glasses, so my eyeballs have been adjusting and it makes my head hurt. BUT ANYWAY! Here ya go. And you all will be glad to know I already have chapter 47 typed up and ready to post, so woohoo for for sure updates next week!

Also, while I have you! I recently updated my Masterpost on my profile to include my art as well as the art of other people who have made things from my stories!! Including some UC Fanart! So go check that out if you want!

Summary: Knuckles can't get out of his head.

UC Masterpost!

Link to My AO3!

Start:

Knuckles has truly grown more in sync with the Master Emerald over the years, he feels. Even despite his recent travels and adventuring the world off of Angel Island, he still felt that deep rooted connection between himself and the gem. Having Rouge check up on it now and then along with Sonic, he had been able to dive more into his inner archeologist and go treasure hunting around the globe. Not to mention learn so much more about the ancients and where the chaos emeralds were first found on this world..

After Starfall Islands.. he realized there was still so much more to know and discover about the emeralds that.. he hadn’t even thought about.

Always so closed-minded, he was. Narrow-headed. Only seeing one path rather than the multiple set before him. It made him miss many opportunities. Easily manipulated, tricked into things he regretted or robbing him of a chance at a higher knowledge. 

It was something he was working on in his journey of self-discovery. Truly assessing a situation and his surroundings before barreling in not knowing what to expect or how it may affect those around him.

Thank Chaos for Sonic and Rouge, though.. as much as each of them liked to pretend they were fine on their own, he knew it hadn’t been easy on either of them. Part of him feels guilty especially for leaving Sonic after such a taxing adventure as Starfall Islands had been.. but Sonic was a tough guy. He could handle it and take care of himself. And Chaos knows if Knuckles ever did offer a shoulder to lean on or a helping hand, Sonic would deny any need of it with a wide grin and thumbs up. 

Can’t help what won’t be helped.

Rouge on the other hand..

Now she was a complicated one.

Perhaps part of his motivation to become a more complex-aware fella was her. 

She was an enigma to him. A true mystery. Every time he thought he might have her even a little figured out, she proved him wrong.

Though, he certainly thought his absence during his recent travels had oddly made them grow.. closer.

The predicaments causing him to have to call her nearly daily, or at least text. Checking up on Angel Island and the Master Emerald.

He still remembers asking her to watch over it for him.

‘Me?? You want me to watch over the Master Emerald?? You’re kidding.’

‘I wouldn’t joke about this. I need someone I can trust who knows and respects the emerald like I do. And while I know you joke about stealing it a lot.. I also know you understand its importance and value.’

‘…Well damn. Alright then, Knucklehead, I’ll keep an eye on your rock. But no promises it’ll still be there when you get back~.’

‘It will be.’

The texts started out pretty basic..

Him asking for an ME update.

Rouge usually sending some ridiculous picture that would get him red in the face of her perched on top of it taken at an angle that was often far too suggestive. 

And then the texts went from updates to chatting..

And then the texts went to phone calls..

And then they just.. talked. All the time. Knuckles simply trusting Rouge would tell him if something was wrong with the Master Emerald, and calling her because..

Well.

Because he just missed her he supposed..

What’s that they say about absence and fondness??

But now that they were reunited again?.. 

Well..

Things felt awkward. Like neither of them knew how to act around one another anymore.

Right back to basking in their mutual tension and dancing around each other.

Knuckles wanted to blame their current situation. Say that Rouge is simply emotionally compromised right now with Shadow gone and they’re both occupied with the stress of the world’s potential end.

But he knows it’s bullshit.

Knows it’s more than that.

They’re both simply… not good at this.

Maybe they’re not cut out for it..

His eyes shut a bit tighter, sitting criss-crossed before the Master Emerald with a small frown. Brows furrowed in annoyance at his inability to concentrate. He needed to get his shit together. The world was ending for Chaos’ sake! 

It was wild to think such things and realize that only their little group of friends even were aware. So many innocent people were counting on them.. and they didn’t even know.

How many times had that happened, though.

They don’t do it for the praise, of course. They do it because it needs to be done.

And right now, Knuckles needs to be able to find out where the remaining chaos emeralds are. But it’s rather difficult when his mind just keeps wandering back to that—

“Just tell me who the hell you think you are?!”

Bat.

Knuckles’ eyes open with a sigh, slowly standing himself up because he already knows he’s about to get nothing done with her here.

“Sleep well??”

“I don’t need you looking out for me, redhead!” she scolds as she lands at the base of the shrine, crossing her arms and jutting her hip out as she glares at him from the bottom of the stairs, “You should’ve woken me up the moment you got the message about the whole damn world ending!”

“You were tired and pushing yourself too hard,” Knuckles frowns. No one else may have noticed it, but he did. The way her feet were dragging, her wings sagging a bit on her back, the extra concealer she patted under her eyes to try and hide the dark circles, the droop in her tail.

She was exhausted.

Both physically and emotionally.

Which is why he was trying really hard to be patient with her right now despite the way she’s storming up those stairs like she’s ready to sock him.

“I think I know my limits a little better than you, Knuckles-For-Brains!”

He closes his eyes.

Takes a deep breath.

She’s not angry with him.

Just taking it out on him.

He’ll be her punching bag for a bit if that’s what she needs to feel better.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she stomps towards him in her heeled boots with her finger up and pointing at him accusingly, “You should’ve woken me up the minute you knew. Not told the others to leave me be to sleep.”

Her voice was mixed with a growl and all the huffy sass in the world, Knuckles opening his eyes again when he felt her finger press to his chest and poke.

He frowned heavier. 

“The world is ending, you idiot! Now isn’t the time for sleep, it’s the time to get the fucking job done!” she huffs and crosses her arms then, retracting her finger from his chest.

“There’s nothing you could be doing right now anyway other than aimlessly looking for the last emeralds like the others—“

“Then I should be looking!!” she huffs, throwing her arms in the air, “I should be out there searching along with the others—“

“Then why aren’t you??”

She stops. 

Blinks at him.

“Wh-..What??”

“Then why aren’t you looking?? You came here instead. Why? Why waste time yelling at me when you could be scouting out for a chaos emerald??”

Knuckles crosses his own arms now, eyes remaining on hers as he waits expectantly for an answer. She just stares at him, looking as though she’s searching for some sort of snarky comeback or smartass answer.. but she doesn’t have one.

So she huffs and crosses her arms instead, turning her nose up and closing her eyes.

“Because I needed to get it out of my system. And needed you to know I don’t need you babying me. I’m a grown woman!”

“I’m well aware..,” he murmurs under his breath, eyes rolling as her own snap back towards him narrowed and looking for a fight.

That’s what this is about.

A fight.

A distraction.

She’s needed something to blow off some steam with since all this mess started. She just won’t admit it.

“Then why don’t you start treating me like it! Instead of trying to force some sort of sleep schedule on me like I’m a toddler!”

“You needed the rest, Bat. Now you’ve got it, and you can go on looking like the others—“

“You’ve got some nerve telling me what I can and can’t do—“

“I’m just saying—“

“Well don’t ‘say’!”

“I was just trying to help. You’ve got no one looking out for you right now, and Chaos knows you don’t look out for yourself like you should during shit like this—“

“I’m plenty fine on my own!”

“Not when I don’t even remember seeing you eat since I got here! Not when you’ve been living off coffee and cat naps here and there!”

“I’ve slept fine—!”

“Don’t bullshit me! I saw you take your laptop up to the room last night! If you think I’m so stupid as to not figure out you’re just going up there to worry yourself to death instead of sleep, you’re wrong!”

She locks her jaw at this, glaring at him.

He sees it. Her walls rising, her going on full defense.

“…What- so because we’ve texted a few times and had a couple phone calls, you think you know me all the sudden??”

“What?? No, I—“

“Well, you don’t! You don’t know me! Not at all, you dumb Knucklehead, and if you think for a second that you’ve got me figured out or— or that you have any right to me or my choices, you don’t!”

“I don’t think that—!”

“I worked for years on my own!! Since I was a child! I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself! I know when I’m pushing myself too far!”

“I know that, Rouge, but—!”

“No buts! You think just because Shadow isn’t here to babysit me that I can’t handle this on my own?! That because the only friend I have— the only family I have is gone that I can’t keep my shit together!! Is that what it is?!”

Knuckles frowns at this, brows going from furrowed in frustration to knitting up in realization.

She thinks she’s alone.

She isn’t angry because she thinks he thinks she can’t handle being alone..

She’s angry because she is alone.. or so she believes..

“…Rouge..,” he says softly, and that seems to just work her up more.

“No! No, don’t do that! Do do the whole ‘big purple doe-eyed’ shit and feel sorry for me! I’m grown! I don’t need anyone! I can get by, I can handle myself, I—!”

Knuckles moved without hesitation, arms wide and wrapping tight around her as he pulls her in against him. His chin hooks over her shoulder, hugging her firm and close and with all his strength so she had no chance of escaping.

Which she absolutely tries to after initially freezing up.

“Let go of me!” she huffs out, squirming in his arms and trying to use her wings to fly herself out of the embrace.

He just holds her tighter. Keeping her grounded right there on the shrine by the Master Emerald. She pulls and pulls, fighting against him until she can’t fight anymore and instead starts swatting at him.

Open hands pushing and shoving at his chest and shoulders as she growls, “Are you deaf, I said let me go, you- you—!”

“You aren’t alone, Rouge..,” he says softly against her soft fur hanging over her shoulder.

She freezes up, exhausted tension keeping her stiff as her ear flicks on her head to hear him.

“You’ve got friends.. we all care about you and see you— I see you.. I know a lot of the attention has been on Shadow and Sonic in all of this, but I know you’re struggling too.. and I’m here.. I didn’t come back for them, I came back for you because you called.. and.. I know you can handle this on your own.. that you’d make it through this strong and brave and all the things you always radiate.. but-.. you don’t have to.”

She sucks in a breath. Biting her lower lip beneath her fang as it begins to quiver.

“Just—I’m here. You’re not alone..”

It’s the straw that broke the camel’s back— well.. the bat’s back.

She collapses against him, her weight draping against his chest as her growls turn to whimpers and her knees give out from all that tension they’ve been holding. Her shoulders loosen so her arms can lift to ever so limply hug around Knuckles’ lower waist, draping right above his jagged tail and clinging there as she buries her face in his neck.

And she cries.

He’s never seen that of her..

Never seen her vulnerable.

But he finds himself honored in that moment to be trusted enough to cradle her through it.

So he does.

He stands there with her as she lets it all out.

He isn’t sure how long that is, but he never falters in the way he rubs her back or brushed his mit through her hair.. over her wings..

He stays as long as she needs.. feeling her tension slowly cry out of her body until she’s wrung dry of it. Left tired and a bit surprised herself at how she just crumbled.

When she eventually does pull away, Knuckles loosens his hold to let her do so, eyes watching her closely as she keeps her head dipped down and wipes at her dripping mascara with her gloves.

She sniffles, black streaks down her cheeks from her tears, offering a tiny and pitiful laugh as she rolls her eyes—

“Sorry… I-.. I don’t know why I did that.. any of it.”

He offers he a small smile and shrug.

“Because you needed it..”

She looks at him then, aquamarine eyes shimmering from crying, “Yeah.. guess I did.”

She snorts then, lifting her hand to his shoulder she had been crying against and rubbing at his red fur, “I got mascara all over your shoulder and neck— shit- I must look like such a mess right now..”

“No..,” he smiles soft, a light blush dusting his own cheeks as he raises a mit to tenderly rub at the mascara streaks on her cheek, “..You’re beautiful.”

She sucks in a breath at that, eyes lifting to his again and staring at him for a long moment before she melts and smiles..

“…Can I-… maybe stay here for a bit?… I guess I-.. could probably use some more rest.. if that’s alright.. crying kind of tuckered me out..”

He smirks a bit at that, biting back his instinct to tell her ‘I told you so’ and instead nodding his head and, “Of course. Stay as long as you need.”

He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning from her then and moving once again to sit before the Master Emerald. Criss-crossing his legs and closing his eyes as he tries to focus..

He hears her heels click against the stone of the shrine.. then the sound of her sitting down next to him, wings closing behind her.

Something she rarely does.

He always chalked it up to the fact she can never stay in one place too long, always needing to feel free to fly off if she so pleases..

Guess she plans to stay this time.

He smiles a bit to himself, taking a deep breath and sighing it out as he finally feels he’s at peace enough to focus on the Master Emerald—

Only to feel a soft kiss pressed to his cheek.

His eyes shooting open and muzzle growing red to match his quills as he bristles slightly in surprise.

He looks down to see her laying down beside him, her head settling in his lap..

A hand tucked beneath her head and the other draped over his knee..

Her eyes shutting with a little smirk on her lips and a light blush of her own..

He smiles. Dopily.

Snorts and shakes his head as he closes his eyes again with a grumbled, “Batty..”

She pinches the skin to the side of his knee.

“Ow!”

[every-sanji]

[ohitslen]

WOW WHAT. I UPDATED 🎉Ch. 6 of The neighbor from 311 is up!🎉

[lieutenant-amuel]

Calculating characters’ ages so they fit into the timeline of the fic my beloathed.

[the-kipsabian]

i like writing when its just me slapping words on my screen and thinking "yeah this makes sense" without actually knowing if it does or not

[nerdie-faerie]

I fucking hate sending emails where I'm trying to find out information because I feel like I have to be super specific with my questions in order to get what I need - and this is dependant on me knowing everything I need to ask about - only to still not be given the answers I need

[arolesbianism]

Me sitting and watching any oni discussion waiting for an excuse to bring up a seed is planted all like 🤓👉👈

[ghstzzn]

helping hand

pairing: bsf!lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis: heeseung had an unusual ritual before every competition as a professional league of legends player. one that his ex-girlfriend could no longer fulfill for him, leaving him desperate enough to ask for your help as his best friend.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! barely proofread lol, heeseungs a professional gamer… idk shit about that tho, you’re his best friend, league of legend mention, oral (m. rec), face fucking, deepthroating obv, praise? heeseung whimpers and whines here and there, name calling bc he calls her a perv hehe, reader touches herself and orgasms bc of his whimpering, cum swallowing, first time writing JUST a blowjob & ball fondling hehe and more probably! [3.3k words]

🖤: im so scared this was only supposed to be like 1k words but i cant shut the fuck up ever.

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

it’s been awhile since you’ve had heeseung linger around your apartment for hours or even days like this. between his time spent with his now ex girlfriend and his professional gaming career, you had rarely seen him. only relying on occasional short lunch meetings or quick coffee runs.

it’s not that his ex disliked you, but more so disliked that you and heeseung happened to be an extremely attractive pair of friends and hated that people would confuse you both as a couple rather than heeseung and her.

you missed your best friend, and it comforted you that he returned those feelings. 

before heeseung had stepped foot into a relationship with his ex, he would spend half of his time at your apartment. especially when he had a competition that was near. 

“are you nervous?” you ask him, watching as he packs little things he left at your apartment into a small suitcase for the gaming league. it was only one city away but these sorts of things take an entire weekend. 

heeseung hums, “i’m confident.” you know he’s not lying either. there’s not much you know about gaming, or specifically, league of legends—but according to your mutual friends, heeseung seems to be a god at the game. yet, he seemed so antsy about something.

“so what are you gonna do about your little pre-competition ritual,” you hope to lighten his mood, easing him of whatever that was on his mind.

“what ritual?”

you clear your throat, “oh, um. your blowjob ritual..?”

the question was asked in a light hearted way, but heeseung didn’t react in such a way at all. the ritual, as you called it, was something heeseung accidentally created a few years ago when he had first gone pro. his situationship at the time gave him head right before he left as a sexy goodluck and a reminder of what he had waiting for him when he got back, but that day he had carried and won the competition for his entire team. 

the next year after that he had gotten with his girlfriend and had shyly asked her to suck him off, to which she agreed and it had officially become a routine for every competition, including smaller, less meaningful ones.

“you okay, hee?” 

“can i ask you something?” he suddenly speaks up, voice way louder than he intended, causing the both of you to cringe at the volume. “s-sorry.. i just need to ask you something.”

you nod slowly, “yeah, anything. is everything okay?”

heeseung thinks for a few moments before speaking again, “it’s a little personal and it’s okay if you are uncomfortable with this and you absolutely do not have to say yes but i need to at least ask you.”

“heeseung just say it.”

“can you give me a blowjob before my competition this weekend?”

your reaction comes in three stages. the both of you stare at each other in silence for about three minutes before you burst out in laughter, which also lasts about three more minutes. but when you see heeseungs panicked expression, you go silent again.

“wait… seriously?” 

heeseung swallows before shaking his head timidly. he debated laughing along with you and passing it off as a complete joke but he felt the need to follow through. the room is silent again. your fingers subconsciously play with the zipper on his suitcase as you think about the question he just proposed to you. 

your best friend, whom you’ve experienced half your life with, just asked you if you could give him head before one of his league of legends competitions.

what was the right answer here?

“you.. you don't have to,” heeseungs heart feels like it’s about to fall out of his chest. why on earth would he ask such a thing to his only female friend? no less, his best friend.

it was a joke. yeah, a joke! oh my god, why would i ask that, you pervert! you should’ve seen your face! you guys joke like this all the time, this is no different. he could totally play this off coolly. 

“it’s fucking stupid, i know. but it seriously helps me and you know she would do it for me everytime.” he begins rambling without even realizing it. the air is so thick you would have to take a chainsaw to it. “y-you aren’t her, yeah, but i don’t know—it genuinely gets me through the competitions.”

heeseung lets out a shaky breath, “just forget it. ignore what i said.”

“well, no heeseung,” you cut him off, “i can’t just forget that you seriously asked me something like that.”

“please don’t make this awkward. you can say no and we can forget this happened.”

you could tell heeseung wanted to rip his tongue out, and to see your best friend this distressed over something so silly made you want to drop everything and get rid of those feelings for him. 

“i mean, i never said no, did i..?” 

heeseung looks up, meeting your gaze with a shocked expression, “what?”

“yeah,” you nod, “it doesn’t hurt to think about it, right? it’s not like you’re asking me to completely fuck you—a blowjob wouldn’t hurt us right? especially if it’s going to help you.”

he blinks. heeseung might think you’re going insane, and he’s the one that asked you for the blowjob. no way you were actually considering this for him.

what did he do in his past life to gain such a supportive, pretty best friend.

“so… you’ll think about it?” your best friend's voice is quiet when he asks, like he’s scared to speak up any louder. “like, seriously?”

“yeah,” nodding your head, you flash him a reassuring smile. agreeing to suck off your friend before his professional video game competition, a totally normal request.

when heeseung leaves your apartment, you immediately cuss yourself out. why the fuck would you practically agree to that? 

but when you think about telling the boy no, your heart cracks. why? you don’t know. but what you do know is that you would rather die than look at his big sad brown eyes when you tell him you can't give him a special blowjob for his special day.

you were no pro at sucking dick, but you were dedicated to this friendship.

heeseung bounced his leg with nervousness and anticipation. you texted him that you were on the way to his hotel, which would’ve been normal and completely fine considering you attend all of his comps, but today was different.

you never answered his question.

he wonders if maybe you forgot about it. he also hopes you didn’t forget. ever since he asked you the big question, heeseung couldn’t get you out of his mind.

every night leading up to today, he’d lie awake staring at his ceiling trying to push every image of you sitting pretty between his legs out of his mind. the feeling of his cock hardening to the thought of you made him want to dive out of the nearest window.

it’s not like he didn’t think you were hot or that the idea of being intimate with you disgusted him, but it’s the fact that he promised to never be like every other guy.

the two of you were very close. from cuddling while watching movies to holding hands in a crowded area to heeseung beating up creepy men at dive bars for you—you both had a tight knit friendship. and he always promised that he would never cross that line. he might be a total loser but he liked to consider himself a gentleman at the same time.

that day, he did. yet you were still attending something that meant the world to him when you could’ve told him to fuck off and die.

four knocks at the door rips heeseung away from his thoughts.

with sweaty hands and knees that felt like jelly, heeseung grips the door knob and opens it, plastering the fakest smile he could muster up. “hey.” did his voice crack? fuck my life. 

“hi!” you hold up two bags filled with a variety of snacks with a large smile on your face, “i brought some stuff for this weekend.”

he clears his throat and steps to the side, letting you enter his hotel room. heeseung averts his gaze to the ceiling as you walk by him, afraid of letting his eyes stay on you–what if he accidentally looks at your ass?

“what time does it start today?” you ask, completely unaware of the emotional distress your male best friend was going through. so nonchalant and unmoving. maybe you did forget afterall. 

heeseung takes a seat at the desk in his hotel room, where he had a temporary p.c. set up in case he needed a practice game. “uhh, it’s at six this time.”

“jeez… you guys won't be leaving until late then.” you glance at the clock and back to him. he has to leave very soon. how do you casually start giving your best friend a blowjob within the next fifteen minutes.

“yeah, you know of all people that these things can go for hours. you’re gonna be there for the last few rounds right?”

you nod, wondering if heeseung could notice the way you’re practically gawking at him. was he always this hot? it’s stupid question when you’re fully aware of how attractive heeseung was and currently is. maybe it was the way he was dressed up for his competition tonight, or the way he leaned back on his hands and spread his legs comfortably. 

the baggy black hoodie that you knew he was wearing by itself with nothing underneath paired with his baggy jeans that sat so perfectly on his hips. you were fully aware that you were checking out your best friend. he’s fucking hot, why else would you agree to do any of this?

you wonder if he’s thought about this as much as you have. is he nervous? is he vocal? how long does it take for him to get hard and how big is he?

“hey,” you don’t know where the confidence is coming from, but you find yourself kneeling in front of him with your hands on his knees, “you’re gonna do great and win this. like you always do. i’ll make sure of it.”

heeseung almost chokes on his own spit when you suddenly slip between his legs, “wha- what are you doing..?”

“did you not want my help? or did you forget?” you ask him, genuine confusion. “i-if you already-”

“no!” heeseung cuts you off, grabbing your hand with his. “i mean, i still do. i just didn’t think you were down.”

you rub your other hand up his thigh, fingers mere centimeters away from his crotch area. so close to where he needs you, yet so far. “of course i am. what good are best friends if they can’t help each other out?”

heeseungs breath hitches when your hand grazes the zipper of his jeans. he lets go of your other hand and you take it as a cue to keep going.

“just let me take care of you, hee.”

and for the first time ever, that nickname made his cock twitch.

just the view he had of you sitting pretty between his thighs, hesitant but still full of confidence as you softly palmed him through his jeans was enough for him to be leaking.

“can i…” you ask quietly, fingers on the button of his jeans. he nods once and gulps as you immediately pop the button open and move to the zipper. it feels like hours before you’re finally pulling his jeans down below his hips. 

you can’t lie and say the bulge of his hardening cock, covered by his calvin kleins, wasn’t making your mouth water. you push his hoodie up slightly, the way your cold fingertips hit his lower stomach as you grab the waistband of his boxers has his stomach tensing under your touch. you let out a small gasp when his cock almost springs out of his boxers.

your best friend is packing. 

heeseung almost chuckles when he catches your reaction. 

“don’t laugh.”

“i’m not.”

“i can see it!” you argue back.

heeseung rolls his eyes, “please just continue.” 

“i won't if you keep up that attitude. you know we have less than fifteen minutes.” you retort after hearing him scoff. 

“i can miss rehearsals.”

“heeseu-”

“god, please let me just fuck your mouth.”

oh my god? were you supposed to be turned on? you bite your lip and look down in his lap, taking his cock in your hand with a soft but firm grip. you lean forward and let spit slowly drip from your mouth as you start pumping him. 

heeseung lets out a quiet groan and you look up at him—wide eyes that are practically asking, is this good? you continue to gently fist his cock, getting him nice and hard before you start using your mouth on his. 

“i hope you win.” is all you say before you kiss his tip and sink your mouth onto him.

the boy is practically seeing stars. you just started and he’s already moaning like a bitch. it felt so good, he can’t rip his gaze from you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly and your cheeks hollow out as you literally suck him in. 

“fuck, like that…” his hand finds sanctuary wrapped around your hair, not yet pushing you down on his cock completely, but more so as guidance. 

you let go out his cock with a pop and continue pumping him with your fist, licking the underside of his base as you make direct eye contact. he lets out a groan and lets his head fall back.

“you don’t have to hold back heeseung,” you mumble, but the lust was evident in your tone. “don’t be gentle, this is for you.”

“holy fuck, don’t say that.” you giggle at his response and smile against his tip before taking him back into your mouth. heeseung grips your hair tighter and pushes you further down his cock per your request. he can hear you inhale deeply through your nose as you attempt to take all of him. but of course you can’t. 

you stroke what you can’t fit and let heeseungs hand guide you up and down his cock. he uses all self control to not thrust into your mouth. heeseung hisses through his teeth every time your lips tighten around the tip of his dick, feeling somewhat more sensitive than he usually is. 

a guttural moan rips from his throat when your hand comes up to squeeze his balls, offering a helping hand in making him cum soon. time was ticking. but heeseung did not care whatsoever, especially after that move.

he almost wishes he knew how fucking good you were at giving head before all of this. your mouth was so warm, wet and tight around his cock–he was in heaven. heeseung genuinely thinks this is one of the best blowjobs he’s ever gotten. his hips buck, suddenly pushing his cock deep inside of your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. you cough around his cock in surprise but it only spurs your best friend on.

maybe it was the fact that you’re his best friend. sure, it’s not taboo by any means, but there are lines that are never to be crossed in these sorts of relationships–holy shit, heeseung was on cloud 9. 

“oh my god,” he whines, “you’re so good at this. fuck–god, don’t stop.”

his words, his moans, his whines–they all send tingles down your spine and straight to your core. you can’t deny the throb in your cunt though. 

you continue to squeeze and fondle his balls as you let heeseung completely guide your head deeper onto his cock, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth halfway. your other hand grips his thigh, keeping you stable and relaxed as he abuses your throat with the head of his cock. 

the groan that leaves your mouth when he tugs your hair tighter is accidental, you look up at heeseung. he looks beautiful like this. a pink blush across his cheeks, damp forehead, and hazy eyes. you were surely dripping through your panties now. 

“yeah? you like t-this too, huh?” heeseung spits out. now you’re almost jealous of every woman he’s managed to pull, because fuck did that just turn you on even more. “want me to use your mouth however i want?”

you moan in response, nodding your head. heeseung lets out a long exhale as he shoves your head down his cock again. tears line your eyes and threaten to spill over, trying to relax your throat to take him completely. 

“y-you’re taking me so good, y’know that? so good, baby.”

immediately, your hand that was once on heeseungs thigh is making its way down and into your shorts. you were soaked. 

heeseung lets out another choked moan when he notices your hand in your shorts, circling your clit as you let him fuck your throat. how badly he also wishes you would just take those stupid shorts off and let him see exactly what you’re doing, he yearns to see you play with yourself one day. 

“playing with yourself while you let me use this pretty mouth…” heeseung groans, lifting your head for a mere second before pushing you down his cock again. your hand tightens around his balls and he almost whimpers at the sensation. “you like this just as much, fucking pervert.”

you let out a whine, tears falling down your cheeks, you were already so close.

heeseung gets rougher, guiding your head much faster than before. your lips were burning and there was spit completely covering your other hand. but still, you continue to suck and lick at his cock as if it were your last meal, letting him force his way down your throat. 

“‘m so close. so fucking close.” now you're both whimpering. “fuckfuckfuck, gonna cum soon, baby. keep going, please, hah–you feel so fucking good.”

his words were enough for you to hit your peak, an orgasm washing through your body immediately. you’re squirming and whining, sending vibrations down heeseungs cock. 

“ah, fuck,” he continues to let words fall out of his mouth in the form of broken moans, “y-yeah, ‘ts so good. feels so good.” heeseung suddenly pushes your head all the way down, your nose making contact with the soft hair as the base of his cock, and he cums. 

thick, hot ropes of cum covering the back of your throat. you’re gagging and choking at the full feeling, wanting to pull back so badly, but he doesn’t stop–not until he’s milked dry. 

after what feels like an eternity, he lets go and you pull back, gasping and coughing but swallowing most of his cum in the process. your hands fly to your neck as you massage it and catch your breath.

heeseung on the other hand was breathing heavily. that was the best orgasm he’s ever had.

“holy fuck.”

you look up at the male, who seemed like he was about to pass out, “hee, you have to go.” your voice is raspy and weak. 

“i can’t.” he responds, out of breath. “that was amazing. i can’t move.”

you stand up and pull him up with you, balancing him when he stumbles forward. “seriously, you have to go now.” now you’re putting his cock away for him, he hisses loudly at the feeling but you ignore it and zip up his jeans. “now.”

heeseung sighs and looks down at you, “did you.. get off like that?”

you tighten your lips and nod hesitantly.

“god. god, you’re amazing.” he breathes out, wanting nothing more than to throw you down on the bed and fuck you until he physically cannot. “please, please be here when i get back, i’m literally begging you.”

you nod at him, reassuring him that you’ll be here when he’s done as you usher him out of the hotel room. “i will, hee. just go.” you suppose this is what best friends are for after all.

“and do not show up to the comp tonight or i will be hard the entire fucking time.”

[isagispuzzle]

it's so hilarious how yukimiya is canonically the unluckiest character, i imagine he would have such a hard time trying to impress his crush.

being a model, yukimiya knows his angles and how to carry himself, but somehow, you never catch him in the most flattering positions. the first time you meet, you see him trying to catch the snack his friend was going to throw into his mouth, but his friend sneezes right when the snack is launched and yukimiya gets hit in the eye (yes, the snack somehow gets past his glasses. how does that even happen?). on another day, he sees you stranded at a bus stop near the school because it's pouring and you didn't have an umbrella, but when he walks towards you in hopes of getting to share his umbrella with you, he slips on a puddle and lands on his butt with a splash.

while yukimiya always has a smile on his face, his close friends would know that it isn't always genuine, and behind his polite friendliness, he loved to gossip. the unfortunate thing is, you've caught him more than once in a less than ideal situation. for example, after politely rejecting a classmate's confession, he turned around to roll his eyes because she could barely give a good reason beyond his looks for why she had feelings for him, just for you to be right in front of him to see his scoff up close. ah, not to mention that one time you overheard yukimiya snickering with his friends about a teacher looking like a turtle. it still keeps him up at night sometimes.

yukimiya knows that it's impossible to keep up his smile all the time, but at the very least, he wants you to always see him smiling, so he makes sure to try extra hard whenever you're around. or at least whenever he thinks you're around.

it's one of those days when everything is just a little too much to bear, so yukimiya excuses himself from soccer training to catch a breath in a corner of the school compound, hidden from view behind a vending machine. but of course, it's just his luck that you happen to use the one next to him, out of all the vending machines in the school. he brushes off your concern when you ask why he's crouched on the ground, and he slaps on a smile as he tries to distract you with some small talk. yet, you seem unconvinced, so you buy him a drink and crouch next to him.

in your bid to comfort him, you recount the silly situations you've seen him in, not realising that he's burying his face deeper into his hands with every word you say. you let it slip that you think these sides of him are cute, and although many, including himself, think of yukimiya as calm and composed, he looks up at you with wide eyes and an uncontrollable blush.

[tsunodaradio]

sorry, chat! ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

lando has a soft spot for you. (or: the one where lando keeps interrupting his streams for you.)

ꔮ starring: lando norris x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 0.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance, mention of food. established relationship. ꔮ commentary box: part of my soft spot mini-series! need lando to start paying rent for the space he's taking up in my mind. :-/ 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It takes Lando’s viewers approximately four months to realize— no, confirm— what they’d all be speculating. 

Lando wasn’t really trying to be discreet. He could be private if he wanted to, and the truth of the matter is that he never really had any plans to hide you. 

He had groveled at your feet about going public, about hard-launching you at your soonest convenience. Just one Instagram post, he had practically begged. Okay, okay. I’ll settle for a story!

In the end, he conceded to taking things slow. Feeling it out. You had to assure him that you weren’t embarrassed of him, that it was just a matter of wanting to protect your identity for a little longer before the rest of the world began to see you as Lando Norris’ girlfriend. 

The mere thought of the title has Lando valiantly holding back a dreamy sigh. 

His girlfriend. His girl. What a dream. 

When the two of you are eventually found out, you accuse him of orchestrating the whole thing. “How could I have, love,” he whines, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from nervously pacing. “I swear, my chat just knows.” 

The chat did know, yes, because Lando is obvious. It’s the sort of obvious that’s written in neon lighting across the wall. Bright, glaring, hard to ignore. 

It started with the fruit. 

“Sorry, chat,” he says during one stream, “gimme a second.” 

He mutes his microphone and reaches for something out of frame. When he returns, he’s holding… an orange. 

Lando throws the camera a cheeky wink. His hands are deft as they work on peeling the fruit, and he holds a soundless conversation with whoever had requested the help. 

The chat goes crazy. Some people are quoting poetry— I love you, I want us both to eat well— but the vast majority are throwing out playful comments about Lando being ‘down bad’. 

By the time Lando is back, it’s like the interruption never happened. He goes right back to streaming, addressing none of the questions lighting up the screen. 

The next questionable stream happens a couple of weeks later. Lando’s gaze keeps flitting past the camera, past his setup. He throws several rounds of Fortnite and crashes more often than not on iRacing, drawing insults and jeers from his audience. 

Usually, Lando would try to defend himself. Tonight, though, he can only smile sheepishly as his viewers relentlessly tease him for being distracted. 

His teeth sink into his lower lip, as if he’s fighting back a smirk. “Sorry, chat,” he huffs. “Looks like my luck is shot today. I think it’s best if I log off. Byeee!”

(That’s the last time you work from Lando’s bed while he’s streaming. His gaze is drawn to you like a magnet, and he’s quick to crawl under the sheets to join you. Done so soon?, you ask, your fingers carding through his curls. 

He looks at you like you hung the stars and the moon. Mhm, he hums, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Didn’t have much to say.) 

If you really, really think about it, the big reveal could actually be pinned on you. 

Lando is too enamored to ever blame you for anything. You’re faultless in his eyes, even though he can get a bit petulant with smaller misgivings. Like when you forgot his pre-stream ritual, for instance. 

Four kisses. 

For good luck. A wordless I love you lots. His driver number. Call it whatever, but it’s ultimately Lando’s excuse to have as much of you that you’ll give. 

On The Stream To Beat All Streams, you’d neglected it. He had a set stream time. You cut your shower too close to his start. He’d been unable to delay, logging on to Twitch with his lips tugging into a frown.

He’s half an hour into the stream when your head pops through the door, dressed to the nines for your night out. You’re so pretty that Lando has to hold himself back from ending the broadcast early again. 

You mouth an I’m sorry to Lando. He trails off in the middle of answering someone’s question, his slouched back straightening ever so slightly.

This time, he doesn’t even bother informing the stream. He just pushes his chair back, stands, and doubles back to mute when he realizes he missed it the first time. 

He still misses it the second time. 

The clips don’t lie. They all catch the sound of Lando’s voice going just a pitch higher, like he’s trying to act cuter than he already is. 

Comments flood the chat as your soft, amused voice responds something inaudible. The affectionate tilt of your voice is all the confirmation they need. And then Lando’s giggling, and there’s the unmistakable sound of lips smacking. 

Not once, not twice, but four times. 

The hashtags write themselves. McLaren’s PR manager wakes up to 81 missed calls. 

Lando comes back on stream, his mood having done a full 180. It takes him a moment to realize what just went down, and so the oblivious grin on his face— paired with the lipstick mark neither of you noticed, staining the side of his neck— makes the situation all the more interesting. 

“Sorry, chat,” Lando chirps. “What did I miss?” ⛐