#thoughts and constructive criticism welcome

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 1

SERIES SUMMARY: You’ve been best friends with Oscar Piastri since you were seven, far before the dream of Formula 1 even seemed possible. You’ve been with him from the very beginning—due, in no small part, to the fact that you’ve been in love with him since you were a teenager. But when a breakup and championship battle rattles the very foundations of your friendship, you begin to question if you ever really knew him. (Best friends to lovers, based on the song Wildflower by Billie Eilish)

WORD COUNT: 11.1k

WARNINGS: Oscar is not a very good boyfriend to Lily and Lily is not a very good girlfriend to Oscar. Potentially changed some dates (I think Oscar and Lily started dating when they were 17 or 18, but I’m making them 18 for the sake of the flashback scenes). Reader is “the girl he told me not to worry about” through no fault of her own. This story has a lot of complex character dynamics and everyone is flawed! References to sex but no actual smut.

A/N: Ah new series! I hope this is good—I’m trying some new stuff with the flashbacks and story layers, so I hope it doesn’t read too confusingly! Also, I’m trying to be more intentional with showing instead of telling with my dialogue and such, so hopefully that is an improvement. I always welcome constructive criticism, but either way, I hope you all enjoy this.

“Lily left me.”

He only needed those three words to convey the gravity of the situation. On the other end of the line, you were silent. He was too. What was there to say?

No, it couldn’t be real. Oscar and Lily were inseparable. The dream couple of Formula 1. Your best friend had been in love with her since the pair were 18, attending boarding school in the UK together while Oscar pursued his dreams of making it to F1. 

They were each other’s everything. At least, that’s what the world thought.

But you had seen this coming for a while now. It was just a shock for it to actually happen. 

Finally, after an eternity, you spoke, still too shocked to formulate a coherent thought. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean she fucking left me. What else do you want me to say?” You could hear the quivering in his voice, giving away the sadness behind his abrasive response. You weren’t offended one bit. 

“Shit, Osc, I’m so sorry. I… don’t know what to say. Do you want me to come over? Or you can come to mine?” 

“I’m outside yours right now. In the car park.” 

“I’ll let you in,” you said. The mental image you conjured of Oscar outside your apartment crying in his fancy McLaren would have been comical, if not given the circumstances.

He let himself in only a few moments later, hoodie covering his tall and muscled frame. He was soaked from the rain outside—he must have come directly from the confrontation. 

“Oh, Oscar,” you said, pulling him into a hug, cringing at the contact with his soggy hoodie, but knowing that there were far more important things to be worried about. 

You rubbed your hands up and down his shoulder blades that now heaved with sobs. His entire body shook with the fervor of his tears, and you just held him, gently shushing him and promising that everything will be okay. 

“I don’t know how she could do this to me,” he said, gasping out the words between haggard breaths. “The championship—I can’t do it without her.”

“I know,” you assured him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not, YN, it’s not gonna be okay. I love her. And she just threw away so many years.”

“I know.” You just kept assuring him, tightening your grip on him as his sobs became more intense. “Just breathe.”

“Why would she do this to me?” he asked. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

You knew. And deep down, Oscar did too. That was a conversation for another day. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this coming. 

You didn’t have it in you to lie to him. You had always been the type to pride yourself on being honest, even when the truth hurt, but you couldn’t bear to do it now. You changed the subject.

“Oscar, you’re soaking wet. I’ll find you something else and warm that up in the dryer, yeah? Just sit down, take a deep breath, and let me get this figured out.”

He sat down on your couch and took off his hoodie and t-shirt underneath, revealing his toned body. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before—you’d been friends with him since you were seven, growing up together. He almost felt like a brother to you, sometimes.

Maybe it wouldn’t be weird at all, except for the fact that you’d been in love with him for over a decade now. 

But right now that didn’t matter. He had plenty of old hoodies over in your apartment, which you carefully folded every time he forgot them. Placing his wet clothes in the dryer and setting the temp on high, you reached to the shelf above you and grabbed a random one. You unfolded it—an Alpine hoodie from back in the day, before his time at McLaren. You smiled at the memories that flashed in your mind, before quickly returning to Oscar with the garment. 

He had moved from your couch to your bedroom, holding a pillow on his lap, hunched over where the top of it met his chin. He was staring off into space, not breaking his gaze at the plain white wall.

You sat next to him, handing him the hoodie, and he mumbled a small thanks as he grabbed it. He didn’t put it on, instead just holding it with the pillow, as if filling his arms with the plush material would fill the hole now left in his heart.

“Oscar, I… don’t have anything profound to say. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond at first, instead just silently letting the tears well up in his eyes. 

“I guess I should have seen this coming,” he said quietly. 

You paused, unsure whether or not you should agree with him. But you were nothing if not honest.

“Yeah,” you said, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“I guess we just both fell out of love.”

“I mean… how did the conversation go?”

It would be stupidly easy for Oscar to lie and say he didn’t remember Lily’s every word. But he knew better, and so did you. As he explained, the memory replayed in his head.

“I can’t do this anymore, Oscar,” Lily said, a simple yet devastating statement.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” His confusion was genuine, much to the chagrin of his angry girlfriend.

“The fact that you even have to ask that proves my point.”

“Lily, talk to me. I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Oscar stood up, now understanding the full gravity of the situation he found himself in. 

“I’m trying to say that I’m not happy anymore, and neither are you. I wanted to at least give it until the end of the season, but I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when we both know bloody well that it’s not! Don’t you want something better than this, Oscar?” Lily pleaded. 

“I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Don’t lie to me. You say that but you put everything else before me. I’m not a priority to you. I haven’t been in a long time.”

“I’ll quit F1. We can go back to the UK and live a normal life.”

“No. We both know that you wouldn’t do that.” Her tone was incredulous, twinged with a slight anger at the mere suggestion. 

“Yes, I would. I’d do anything. Don’t do this, Lily. Not now, not when I need you the most.”

Lily grabbed his hand, leading him to sit down on the couch next to her. “Oscar,” she began, “we had a good run. You made me so, so happy for so long.” She reached up to gently cup his cheeks and wipe away where tears were now forming at the edge of his eyes. “I saw you achieve things that neither of us ever thought were possible. But…I can’t stay any longer. Not when there’s no place for me in your heart anymore.”

You sighed. You knew every word that Lily had said was right. But you also knew you couldn’t get that through to Oscar, at least not until the shock wore off.

The words remained unspoken. You had been there for all of it. Lily was his first love, his only girlfriend, and everyone assumed that he’d marry her one day; you included. 

“I just…I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on acting like my life didn’t just fall apart. How did you do it?”

This was Oscar's first breakup, but you had been through too many, it seemed, since he was asking you for advice on how to handle them.

The truth? It was very easy to get over a breakup when every partner you’ve ever had was a feeble attempt at denial. When they all inevitably failed, you just went back to bask in Oscar’s platonic love. It was enough. 

“I won’t lie to you, the first one is always hell. You feel like you’re going crazy for a while. You lose hope that you’ll ever feel happier, because everything reminds you of them. And then one day it just…doesn’t. The only thing that heals it is time and finding love around you, you know, friends and family.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

‘Well, I’m not going to lie to you and say it’ll be easy, because it won't. But it will be okay—not today, but someday. You’ve got something to focus on with the championship. And I’ll be here.” You gave him an empathetic smile. 

Maybe you weren’t the most comforting friend to most. But you and Oscar had a bond that was very different to most friendships. You understood each other’s idiosyncrasies in ways no one else could. So when shit hit the fan, it was always each other that you went to.

You continued, “You can stay here as long as you like.”

“Thank you.”

There was only one problem: your apartment only had one bed. And to the dismay of fanfiction writers across the world, you all would not be sharing it. 

You distracted Oscar by cooking a meal and watching a comfort movie—Cars, a classic. You could tell he was exhausted by the way his head on your shoulder sloped just a little too heavily downwards as the credits rolled. 

“Okay, let’s get you to bed,” you said, gently pushing him awake. He sleepily stumbled back into your bedroom and collapsed on the bed, almost instantly falling back asleep.

You took the couch, but despite the money you spent splurging on the extra cushioned sofa, no sleep came to you. 

It wasn’t any physical discomfort that fueled your insomnia, but rather, the events of the previous evening. Lily had actually left Oscar. She had finally pulled the plug.

Yes, in some ways, it was expected. But at the same time, you couldn’t imagine a version of your best friend that wasn’t madly in love with his girlfriend. 

From the outside, though, you couldn’t blame Lily one bit. You wondered what had been the last straw. 

You could think of three possible moments. First: The Apartment. 

“I’m moving to Monaco,” Oscar began, and you felt your heart drop in your stomach. Of course, one day he’d make it to Monaco. That was the dream of every Formula 1 driver, right? The beauty of the French Riviera and tax evasion. And you’d be left at your aging flat in the UK, waiting for those precious few days a year where he was free to grace you with his presence. 

“That’s amazing!” you said, only half believing it to be true. 

“In a few weeks I’m gonna go look at condos. Come with me? Lily can’t get off work.”

“Of course,” you replied. You’d already been to Monaco before for Oscar’s races, but you wouldn’t turn down any reason to get out of the constant dreary rain of the UK. 

You felt like a celebrity as you coasted through the Monte Carlo streets in the passenger side of Oscar’s McLaren, on your way to tour fabulous properties for your best friend (the actual celebrity). You breathed in the saltwater breeze, fresh and tinged with the air of wealth and splendor.

But it hurt your heart to know that you were helping your best friend leave. You imagined him getting up and doing his morning runs along the harbor, the sun blazing down the strained muscles on his back. Then you laughed to yourself at the thought of Oscar, the pastiest Aussie you knew, getting sunburnt. 

At the first property you met the realtor, who (after mistaking you for Lily; not the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last) took the pair of you to different condos throughout the day. 

Oscar decided on the final one you saw; two bedrooms, plenty of natural light, and a great view. Elegant, refined and practical—just like Oscar himself. 

The realtor handed him the paperwork and left as you stood on the balcony, looking at the beauty of the city before you. You were quiet, unusually so, and Oscar noticed. 

He sat the paperwork on the kitchen counter and walked onto the balcony next to you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice lowered. “You’re gonna make such beautiful memories here.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me now?”

You smiled and laughed. “A little,” you admitted, “I can’t help it. I’ll miss you all.” 

“You could always come with us. You seem to like it here,” he teased, tilting his head toward the edge of the balcony.

“You’d have to give me a raise if I was gonna afford Monaco rent prices.” You’d been running Oscar’s merch store and social media for the past few years, making a great wage, but nowhere near the immense wealth you’d need to call a place like this home. You joked with him, knowing Oscar actually had nothing to do with how much you got paid. 

“I would if I could. But, I mean, if you had a place to stay it wouldn’t really be that bad.”

“Are you suggesting I move into your guest room?”

Now he laughed. “No, but I’m just saying, if you had an apartment, you could make it work.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused, but trying to go along with the joke. “Well, sure, but apartments don’t just appear out of thin air.”

“You never know.” Oscar scratched the back of his neck and looked away, a sign of the awkwardness that now blanketed your moment on the balcony. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Well, theoretically, if someone were to have a spare apartment that they weren’t using, you could live there and Monaco would be a reasonable place to live, no?”

You didn’t answer his question, instead just giving him another confused glance until he gave up whatever he was trying to say. He still couldn’t meet your gaze. 

“Look—I don’t want to live so far away from my friend. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Oscar, you…”

“I got you an apartment.”

“You… bought me an apartment. In Monaco.” It came out more like a statement than a question, evidence of your shock. He reached into his pocket and dug out a key, holding it out to you.

You just looked at him with an incredulous expression. “Oscar, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not?”

“How much was it?” 

“I have more than enough money.”

“Answer the question.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “About 4 million?” 

Your eyes widened in shock. “Before you say anything,” he began, “I made over 30 million last year. I have more money than I’d ever know what to do with, so why not just spend it all on the people I love?” 

“Oscar… I can’t, that’s too much.”

“Will you at least go look at it with me? Actually, I’m driving, so you don’t have a choice,” he joked, walking back into the apartment. “Let’s go.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. There was no way you could let Oscar buy you a 4 million dollar apartment, but also, how could you not? The wind whipped through your hair as you rolled down the window of his McLaren, drinking in the beauty of the city around you. 

The apartment was smaller than the one he had picked for himself and Lily, but you didn’t mind one bit. It was perfectly cosy, and God, the view was spectacular. You could see the whole city from his apartment, but here, you could see the water. You stepped on the balcony and took a deep breath, taking in the sound of the ocean waves beneath you. 

Oscar followed you. “It’s a bit small, but I figured you’d like the view.”

“Oscar…”

“If you really don’t want it, I can rent it out. But I’d much rather have you close.” He held out the keys again. “What do you say?”

You could have told him you needed more time to think about it, but deep down, you already knew what you wanted. You took the keys. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Oscar. Seriously.”

“No need to thank me.” He smiled.

Back in the UK, he showed Lily the photos he had taken of the condo he had chosen for them as they went over the paperwork one last time.

He grabbed the pen to scratch out one of the boxes Lily had checked, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

“Oh, did I mess something up?” Shit. She leaned over his shoulder, reading the paperwork aloud. “Please indicate if you own any additional properties in the principality of Monaco.” She looked at Oscar. “You already have a property there?” 

“Oh, erm, yeah,” he said, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“How come I never heard about this?” 

“Um, I just got it a bit ago.”

Lily could sense her boyfriend’s hesitancy. “Is this something I wasn’t supposed to know about?”

“Oh, no,” he said, “it’s not like that. I just didn’t think to mention it.”

“So, what is this property?”

“An apartment.” 

Lily hated feeling like she was having to interrogate Oscar, but clearly there was some piece of the puzzle missing that was causing his reluctance. 

“An apartment?” she questioned. “You got another apartment?”

“Yeah, I, um,” he looked at the ceiling while scratching his neck, a clear sign of his nervousness, “I was planning on giving it to YN.”

“You bought YN an apartment in Monaco? When were you planning on telling me about this?” 

His walls of defense had finally broken down. “It’s not a big deal. I made more than enough last season, I could afford it.  And it’s just easier to have her there for the brand shoots and media stuff. Plus, I mean, she came to London to support me after graduation, even though I know she hates it here. I just figured I should repay the favor.”

“...Okay,” Lily began, her voice tinged with skepticism. “So, you do realize what this looks like, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my boyfriend bought an apartment for his “best friend” and tried to hide it from me. That’s the kind of thing cheating husbands do in movies, buy an apartment for their mistress for her to keep it quiet.”

Oscar wasn’t sure what annoyed him more, the air quotes Lily placed around “best friend” or the insinuation that he had been unfaithful. 

“Lily, seriously? I’m not cheating on you, I love you and you know that.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You know YN and I have been friends forever, it’s not like I did this for some random woman. I don’t appreciate being accused of lying.”

“But you were lying by omission.”

“Lily—”

“You know, nothing against her, but one of the reasons I was looking forward to this move was having more…us time. Without YN.” 

The statement brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Despite what she had said, it seemed like Lily did have something against you.

“You know, this kind of thing is why I was putting off telling you about it.”

“What are you saying?” she asked. Oscar knew he was tempting fire, but he didn’t care.

He continued, “You’re freaking out because I did something kind for a friend. I’m allowed to do whatever I want with my money.”

“I never said you weren’t, and I’m not freaking out. But I guess I’m just such a horrible person for saying I want to spend more time with my boyfriend.”

“If you’re putting down my “best friend” to do it,” he said, mocking her air quotes, “then yeah, that’s not cool.” 

“Oscar, you’re being so…weird about all of this. I’m not insulting YN. I just want to spend more time with you.”

“We’re literally going on vacation in February!”

“With friends. You invited your friends to our romantic getaway, Oscar.”

“You know I only have so much time off during the off season, and I’m spending most of it with realtors and accountants and eight thousand other people preparing us for this move. God forbid I want to invite my friends to Italy with us. Not everything can be just us, Lily.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’m done with this conversation.”

The second next instance you could think of happened on the trip.

It was a beautiful getaway to the Amalfi Coast, your dream destination that you’d somehow never made it to.

The group of Oscar’s friends, including you and Lando, had plans to come and go, with everyone being gone before the fourteenth so that Oscar and Lily could have their Valentine's Day date. Of course, you knew nothing of the arguments they’d had in the past about this, but you had common sense enough to not be a third wheel. Oscar thought this was a good enough compromise. 

Well, he thought. 

From the moment he picked you up from the airport, you could tell that the energy was different than usual. He blamed it on jet lag, but you knew better. You knew your best friend too well.

It didn’t take you long to figure out the problem was between him and Lily. She was colder towards him; not enough for anyone but you and him to notice, but still there and undeniable. 

Even weirder was Lily’s…preoccupation, it seemed, with pointing out single and attractive men to you. It wasn’t a hushed reality that you were single, and had been for some time. You'd given up on dating a long time ago—you knew that you had already found the love of your life, and he just happened to be Lily’s boyfriend.

But, of course, you’d never tell anyone this. Lots of people were confused because you seemed so fine being single. But you thought that Lily, one of your best friends (at least, by association), would know that you weren’t really interested in meeting anyone. 

You sat with Lily in a restaurant overlooking the coast, the balcony having been rented out by Oscar for one of your last dinners. You all were waiting for him and Lando to join you, passing the time by ordering wine and appetizers.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Lily said, gesturing her head to your waiter that was walking back into the main restaurant. 

You didn’t really know what to say. You glanced at him through the glass wall. “Lily, he most definitely plays for the other team, if you know what I mean,” you joked, reaching for a slice of bread on the table. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

“Well I don’t mean for me, I meant for you.”

You chuckled. “For me?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you want to get yourself a hot Italian man?”

“I’m perfectly happy being single.” You tried to diffuse the awkward conversation, keeping a kind tone in your voice as you ate the bread and looked into the distance at the coastline.

“Oh, come on. We’ll get you someone, don’t worry.”

“I really am fine being single.”

“You know who else is single?” she asked, clearly ignoring your protests. “Lando!”

You laughed aloud. “Oh God, no. If I wanted to be cheated on, I would have stayed with my ex. Besides, Oscar would kill him.”

A curious fact: Oscar had never approved of a single person you had ever introduced him to. You had to spend hours talking him out of running over your ex with his F1 car after you found out about his infidelity. 

“Oh, who cares what Oscar thinks? I think you should go for it,” she said, watching as the waiter returned to pour your glasses of wine. 

“Lily,” you said, holding your glass, ready to take a sip, “I don’t want to be in a relationship, like, at all. It’s just…not for me.” You sipped the wine, but through the reflection on the glass, you could see that Lily had pursed her lips in an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“If you want me to stop third-wheeling you and Oscar, you can just say so,” you joked as the boys made their way to the balcony to join you. 

You didn’t know it, but your joke cut deep in Lily’s heart. 

Nothing was said about it during the dinner, but Lily’s strange energy continued. It quickly became uncomfortable how much she was pushing Lando and you to interact. 

And when you all made your way to a local nightclub after the dinner, it didn’t get any better. Lando quickly got himself lost in the crowd, and you were once again left to be the third wheel. 

You could tell that Lily was getting annoyed, but to be fair, she was also annoying you. 

“Go dance with Lando!” she shouted over the thumping bass. She gestured to the opposite corner of the small club, where Lando was currently making out with some random Italian woman. 

You pointed this fact out to Lily, who just grimaced. 

“Do you just want me to go away?” you joked.

“Yes!” she said, and you were taken aback, because she was definitely not joking. 

Oscar was at the bar getting drinks, far enough away that he couldn’t hear. To be honest, you didn’t even want to be in this club anymore. 

So you snuck out and began your walk home without telling any of them.

As you walked along the cobblestone streets, Oscar handed Lily a drink, pausing when he noticed that you weren’t there to receive yours. “Where’s YN?” he asked.

“She wasn’t feeling well, so she headed back,” Lily said. 

“By herself? Should we go check on her?”

Lily wanted to roll her eyes. “No, she’s just tired. C’mon, let’s go dance!”

Oscar obeyed, but couldn’t ignore the feeling inside him that something about this whole night had been odd. 

The next time he saw Lando, he decided to say something about it. 

“Hey mate, are you going back soon?” he asked. Lando nodded, clearly tipsy. “Can you check on YN? Lily said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Sure,” he said, annoyed at the mention of you again.

He did come back to the house soon, but with an equally drunk and giggly woman on his arm, the same girl he had been making out with in the corner of the club. 

You didn’t expect any of them for a long time, so you sat in the living room of the AirBNB, watching the waves cascade into the shore, romanticizing this complicated feeling that coiled itself inside of you. 

That was, until Lando stumbled in. 

His eyes got wide as dinner plates upon seeing you. The girl on his arm giggled and walked off into the nearest bathroom. 

“Hey YN,” he slurred. “Are you dying?”

You laughed. “I’m fine.”

“Lily said you were sick.” 

“Nope, I’m good.” 

He looked to the closed door of the bathroom. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“You’re fine. I’m…uh, not interested, anyway. I don’t know what Lily’s been on about today.”

“Oh, thank God,” he exhaled. You laughed, despite the sting of rejection in his relief. “Well, I’ll keep it quiet.”

“I’ve got headphones.”

You made your way to your room and put on your noise cancelling headphones, passing the time by scrolling and catching up on work emails, before falling asleep.

You didn’t sleep through the night, instead waking up in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was just beginning to round itself along the golden coast. You left your room to get a glass of water, not expecting to see the rest of your friends in the kitchen.

Lily looked hungover as hell, leaning her elbow on the counter, her hand resting uncomfortably on her forehead. Oscar was leaning against the counter on the other side while Lando sat at the bar next to Lily, drinking something out of a mug. His flight home was going to leave soon. 

You nodded to your three companions as you sipped your water glass, feeling the tension around you like an oncoming migraine. 

“You feeling okay?” Oscar asked. “Lily said you weren’t doing well last night.”

“Ah, just tired,” you answered. Lily had lied to both Lando and Oscar. That was a conversation for another day. 

“Well rested now?” Lily asked, her voice tinged with anger and fake sympathy.

“I’m fine,” was all you could answer. You glanced at Oscar, who gave you a knowing look. You had no idea what had gotten into her.

“Are you feeling okay, Lily? You look like you’re about to throw up,” you said, a more genuine concern in your voice.

“I’m fine too,” she said, clearly not fine.

Lando’s Uber pulled up, and you took the opportunity to help him transfer all his bags in one trip.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on with her?” he asked as you heaved the suitcase up into the trunk.

“No idea,” you answered. “Before you all got to the restaurant last night she was being…weird. For the record, I didn’t put her up to any of that.”

“I figured as much. You’re not the type.” Lando was right—it was common knowledge that you were happily single. 

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. For the record, it made me uncomfortable too.”

He exhaled. “Eh, we’re cool. No hard feelings, yeah? I’m sure she’ll snap out of it.” 

“I hope so,” you said, giving him a wave as the car disappeared into the winding roads of the coast.

Back in the house, you could hear Oscar and Lily whispering to each other. You wanted nothing more than to disappear and act like this weird night and morning had never happened, but unfortunately, you had to cross through the kitchen back to your room. 

A hush went through the room when you entered. You walked as quickly as possible through the kitchen, but were stopped by a voice.

“YN,” Lily called. “I think you should leave.”

“Lily—” Oscar interjected.

“I was just going back to my room anyway,” you explained.

“That’s not what I meant. I think you should go home.”

“Lily, don’t do this—” Oscar pleaded. You just stood in shock.

“Actually, let me clarify,” she continued. “YN, I don’t want you here. Go home.”

“Lily!” Oscar interjected. “Don’t say that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, even though it was definitely not fine. “Let me pack and I’ll be on my way.”

You turned and continued back to your room, fully prepared to do as you had just said. But Oscar followed you.

“YN, wait. Stay,” he said. 

“Oscar, it’s fine.”

“I am so sorry that Lily said that, but I want you here.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two or why she’s so upset at me, but if someone tells me to go, I’m not going to overstay my welcome.”

“Still, that was so rude.”

“I’ve got thick skin. I won’t cry myself to sleep over it.” You looked out the window to the coast. “Look, I’ll just find someplace else to stay. A hotel for a few nights is cheaper than trying to reschedule my flight, anyways.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me, Osc,” you said, patting his shoulder. “Go talk to her, figure out what’s wrong.” 

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I already know what’s wrong. She’s mad that we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Then go spend time with her.”

“That was the plan! But, I mean, I’m pissed that she said that to you. And she spent all day yesterday trying to set you and Lando up, which was fucking weird.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled with a twinge of laughter. “Look, with my record I can’t exactly give you love advice, but I don’t mind leaving. You all clearly need some space, anyway. Just text me if you need anything, okay?”

Oscar gave you a flat smile and nod. 

You packed and quickly booked a private room at a local hostel for the next few days, planning to enjoy the last few days as a solo trip. You truly didn’t care, but in the back of your mind, you hoped that everything would be okay. You never received that text from Oscar. 

Back at the house, Oscar and Lily were alone. And neither of them were happy.

“Just fucking go with her if you’re that mad,” Lily said, egging Oscar on. He had always been slow to anger, but he couldn’t deny that he was pissed.

“What is wrong with you?” he questioned. “Why would you say that to her? Do you understand how rude that is? And not to mention the fact that you were being fucking weird with her and Lando all night.”

“Oscar, I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“No, I’m pissed!”

“And, as usual, it’s all about your feelings, hm?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act stupid. Do you know how much I’ve put up with because I don’t want to hurt your feelings? Every vacation, every race weekend, she’s always there. And I put up with her because she’s your friend, but I don’t like her, Oscar.” 

“What did she do to you?” he asked. But Lily couldn’t answer. It wasn’t like there had been a specific incident or falling out; in fact, you had always been kind to her. Lily’s silence was all the answer that Oscar needed. 

“You knew that YN and I were a package deal from the beginning.” 

Tears came to Lily’s eyes. “But this was supposed to be our trip. Just us.” 

“Lily, they were only here for a few days. I specifically set it up so that we’d have 2 weeks to ourselves after they left. Is that not enough?” 

She was silent, at first. Then came a question out of left field. 

“Were you going to propose?” she asked.

Oscar made a face. “Propose?”

“I thought the point of the trip was that you were going to propose.” She looked away, trying to hide her tears. “I’m tired of feeling like an outsider in my own relationship. I’m sick of YN third wheeling, so I thought if I set her up with Lando, maybe she’d leave us alone for a while.” Her voice was tinged with an angry mocking. 

She continued, softer, “Oscar, I want to be your wife, I want to grow old with you—”

But Oscar had little sympathy for her. “That’s really what all this was about? Lily, I’m not proposing any time soon.”

“We’ve been together for nearly five years.”

“I know. But with the season starting soon—”

“There’ll always be another season, another race. Is your plan to just marry me when you retire?” The sarcasm had returned to her voice. “Do you even want to marry me?”

“Of course I do. But we’re young, we have time. I’m in no rush.” 

“I feel like you don’t care about what I want at all.”

“Lily, I’m trying. But I feel like you want me to cut off my best friend and settle down at 22. You’re asking things of me that I can’t give you.”

“Then why are we even doing this?” Lily asked.

“Because I love you, and I want this to work! But Lily, you can’t treat my friends like that. If you’re angry at me, talk to me, but don’t take it out on them. YN is an important part of my life, too.”

“I’m well aware.”

Oscar sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Lily announced, leaving the conversation altogether. 

When she woke up, her head was pounding. Oscar was asleep beside her, his back towards her, no warmth even in his unconscious state. She had slept through the entire day—the moon hung high in the sky. 

As she quietly made her way to the kitchen and got some water and a snack, the memory of what had happened came back, rushing over her. She felt horrible. 

The sleep and food had reset her mind. Make no mistake, she was still upset at Oscar, but what he had said was right—she shouldn’t have taken it out on you. She needed to make it right. 

She texted you. Hey YN, are you awake? I’d like to talk. In person, if you can. 

Only a few minutes later you responded, affirming that you were available and sending the address of your hostel. Lily got there quickly, quietly walking through the rooms to your private room in the back. When you shut the door behind you and you both sat on the bed, she broke down. 

“YN,” Lily began, “I am so sorry about this morning. Truthfully, I was upset at Oscar and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I was so rude.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.

“No, it’s not,” Lily interjected. But she seemed at a loss for words. “I just… sometimes, I feel like I hardly get any alone time with Oscar anymore.”

“Because I’m always there?” you joked, not knowing how close to the truth you really were. Lily didn’t respond. “Look, if you want me to take a step back, I can do that.”

Her response was quiet. “Would that be too much to ask?”

“No.” But it was, in a way. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces, but your expression gave away nothing. “I understand.”

“I don’t think he loves me anymore,” Lily confessed. You normally didn’t want to know the details of their relationship, because the truth was too heavy to bear. But it seemed cruel to cut her off. “I feel like he never wants to be around me, like he prefers his work and his friends over me. I want to get married and he doesn’t. He keeps saying it's too soon and he’s busy, but it’s been nearly five years! I mean, how long does he want me to wait?”

You felt uncomfortable, not sure how to comfort your best friend's girlfriend. So you were honest. “I don’t know, Lily. I don’t know what goes on in Oscar’s head any more than you do.”

“Yes you do,” she replied. “You’ve known him longer.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“No, no, no,” you said, wrapping Lily in an embrace as she cried. “No, he’s not. He loves you so much.”

“No,” she echoed. “He doesn’t.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just held her. 

At one point, your phone buzzed, illuminating the screen. Some unimportant notification, but you noticed the date and time more than that. It was past midnight; Valentine’s Day. 

The third instance was during the first weekend of the 2025 season; the Australian Grand Prix.  

You hadn’t heard from Oscar since the trip. You didn’t really know what to say, and part of you was dreading having to speak to him, knowing that your mere presence was now a strain on his relationship.

Of course Lily wanted more time with him. It made sense. You were present at…most things, actually. But Oscar always invited you, and besides, they lived together. If you had known that you had overstayed your welcome, you never would have gone in the first place.

But on the other hand, you and Oscar had been a part of each other’s lives for nearly double the time that Lily had been around. It wasn’t a competition, but you couldn’t shake that sour feeling that rested in your stomach, that if given the chance, Lily would want you gone for good. 

Regardless, between the trip and the grand prix, life went on as normal. It was odd, since your job was literally running all the official OP81 media pages and merch website. You couldn’t not be a part of his life—you made your living by posting memes about him on the internet and organizing all his merch sales.

So, naturally, you went to nearly all the races to take photos of fans, the paddock, and the garage. It was one of your favorite parts of the job. 

But Australia was different. It was Oscar’s home race, and a place full of memories for you. 

Your family had moved to Australia when you were only seven, having absolutely no friends, except the sweet boy next door in your cul de sac. At first he was cold. You thought he hated you. But you were nothing if not stubborn. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday; for Christmas, you asked for a pink motorized jeep, just like the black one that Oscar—the neighbour boy, back then—had. You squealed for joy when you got it. And the very first thing you did was challenge him to a race.

He ignored you. So you rammed your car into his, causing both of them to break. Ever since, somehow, you’d been inseparable. 

Your parents traveled a lot for work, so instead of constantly going with them, you found yourself staying with the Piastri family for months at a time. Nicole truly felt like your second mom, and Hattie was the sister you never had. And Oscar was…Oscar. It was impossible to describe the bond between you. 

Your parents were never too keen on Oscar, though. They kept it quiet when you were little, but as you grew, their dislike became more outward.

He was 14, leaving for boarding school in the UK. When he told you, you cried. That’s the only time he ever saw you cry.

You wanted to go with him, but your parents couldn’t afford it. He promised he wouldn’t let your friendship die, and he was true to his word. When he got into the higher formulas in racing, he helped you get your job so that you all would never be that far from each other again. 

But your parents always said he was using you, stringing you along, exploiting your labor. Though you’d never admitted it to another soul, they knew you well enough to understand that you loved him. 

You cut your parents off a long time ago. 

Sometimes the fans were worse. Half of them loved you—the half that understood that you could give them access to your idol—but the other half of them called you a beneficiary of nepotism, a gold digger, or a homewrecker. You learned at a young age to develop thick skin. 

And it was how you both behaved on race weekends that really exemplified the difference between you and Lily. 

You liked to be everywhere at once—in the garage trying to interpret the engineers’ technical jargon, in the grandstands taking photos of fans, in the pitlane shooting the shit with the race stewards. You always wore Oscar’s merch, and you wanted to be in the middle of all the action.

Lily, in contrast, was more reserved. She always looked put together, and frankly stunning, at all her appearances. She preferred to watch the race from the comfort and privacy of McLaren hospitality, and when she did interact with fans, she was respectful but short, very conscious of her space.

Neither of you were better or worse than the other. But no one could deny that you were polar opposites. 

You got to Australia before Oscar himself did, having been invited to spend a few days with your surrogate family before you’d have to stay in the hotel, per F1 employee policy. Nicole had told Oscar, who you assumed had told Lily, and when you didn’t hear anything for a few days before you were meant to fly out, you thought everything was fine.

Of course, you thought wrong. 

You spent 3 days with Oscar’s family, relishing the warm feeling of belonging that you’d missed. The Piastri guest room felt more like your own childhood bedroom. Of course, Nicole asked how you’d been, but you were politely distant, wanting to respect the fact that Oscar and Lily’s relationship was none of your business. 

When the pair finally landed in Australia and made their way to Oscar’s childhood home for the night, though, things worsened. 

When Nicole got back from picking them up from the airport, you were in the kitchen prepping dinner. Hearing the front door close, you looked up and smiled, greeting the group.

“YN! What are you doing here?” Lily asked, her voice tentative. 

Nicole answered for you. “Oh, she’s been here since Sunday. I’m so happy to have all my kids under the same roof again,” she joked, turning to Oscar to reach up and pinch his cheeks.

Lily just gave a pained smile. 

You didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t talked to Oscar in nearly a month. You wanted to honor her wishes—but it seemed like her wish was for you to vanish into thin air. 

The rest of the night you were unusually quiet, trying to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult for Nicole to notice that something was up, but she knew better than to bring it up in front of the whole table. 

After dinner she wanted everyone to gather in the living room and watch a movie, which you quickly bowed out of, complaining of exhaustion. 

As the credits rolled, Nicole leaned over to whisper to Oscar, “Is everything okay with YN?” 

Lily overheard and interjected, “She’s fine.” Nicole raised an eyebrow. 

Oscar responded, “The home grand prix is always busy for her.”

The answer wasn’t sufficient enough to crush Nicole’s suspicions, but she didn’t have any more time to pry as her son and his girlfriend quickly decided to retire for the night themselves. 

The next morning, as everyone was packing to get to the hotel, Nicole decided to ask you herself if everything was okay. But predictably, again, you just said that you were fine. And the morning was so hectic that she didn’t really have the time to interrogate you.

Once you all got settled and to the track for media day, work mode took over, and you forgot all about the tension at the Piastri family home. Though you quite literally were paid to follow Oscar around all day, you felt more like the paparazzi than his friend, hardly ever speaking to him.

And as you went back to the hotel room alone to edit and post for tonight, you felt like a stranger in your own body. 

You didn’t want to do this anymore. You missed your friend, but more importantly, you missed being yourself.

But what were you supposed to do? You loved Oscar. Oscar loved Lily. Lily hated you. 

You were stuck between three impossible choices: stick around and be forced to subdue yourself into a shell of your true personality until Lily decided she wasn’t upset at you anymore, lose everything you’d ever built by quitting and moving away like you knew she wanted, or continue being yourself and possibly cost Oscar the love of his life. 

Yeah, this was a wonderful predicament you found yourself in, through no fault of your own.

You moved like a zombie through the free practices and qualifying. When it was finally time for the grand prix, you assumed your usual place in the McLaren garage, for work if nothing else.

But then, Oscar won. 

No team rules. No convoluted strategies. Just Oscar doing what he did best.

You couldn’t hear your own thoughts over the shout of the garage and the crowd in the distance, cheering out for their hometown hero. You ran out with everyone to the barricades to greet your best friend.

Though he still had his helmet on, you could see the effects of his smile in his squinted eyes. He pumped his fist in the air, cheering to himself before running to the barricades to jump into the waiting arms of the crowd. You cheered with them, overwhelmed with pride. 

Oscar locked eyes with you, cupping your face with his gloved hands and pressing the top of his helmet to your forehead. “I did it, YN!”

“You did!” you yelled, smiling ear to ear. 

Of course, people took photos. Photos that Oscar posted later that night. 

Lily didn’t like it—the sweet intimacy of the moment, front and center on Oscar’s Instagram page. Why would you post that? It was like you were taunting her. 

Lily sat on the edge of the hotel bed while Oscar showered, both of them preparing to meet you, Lando, and a few McLaren team members to celebrate his win. 

When Oscar emerged from the bathroom, Lily asked him, “Osc, can you do me a favor?”

“Hm?” he murmured as he dried his hair. 

“Can you take down that picture that YN posted?”

“YN posted something?” he questioned, grabbing his phone. As his social media manager, you had access to all his accounts, but occasionally he’d post something himself, too. “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

Lily pursed her lips. “The first picture from the post she made an hour ago.” 

“Oh, this?” Oscar held up his phone. “I posted that.” 

Lily was silent. 

“Why do you want me to delete it? It’s a good photo.” 

Lily just looked at him. Oscar sighed and archived the photo. “There, happy?”

His tone was much harsher than he intended, but to be honest, he was getting tired of the constant fighting, and his patience was wearing thin. 

Lily kept quiet, just silently going into the bathroom to start doing her makeup.

In the lobby of the hotel an hour or so later, you awkwardly stood with Lando waiting for the couple to arrive. Once again you were torn—should you miss out on celebrating with your best friend on his first ever home win, or should you go and strain his relationship further? 

You were just going to say screw it and go back up to your room when you saw Lily and Oscar walking towards you. Though there was no tension between them, there was no love either. They both just looked…tired. 

Everyone had decided to keep it relaxed for tonight, just doing a nice group dinner with Oscar’s family. It was fine, albeit a tad awkward, because you were sitting between Lando and some McLaren employees you didn’t know, at the opposite end of the table from Lily, Oscar, and his family. 

You knew this couldn’t continue forever. Something had to break. And it did, when you and Lando ended up back in Oscar and Lily’s room, drinking your way through a bottle of nice champagne. 

The alcohol seemed to have calmed Lando’s nerves, as he was actually normal with you. And Oscar was a blushy, smiling mess and he and his teammate laughed at something you couldn’t remember. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but the mood was ruined by Lily’s drunken slurring. “Oh my God, YN, just shut up! Go away!” she giggled and grabbed Oscar’s arm. 

Usually, you were calm, letting any infraction roll off of you like waves on the beach. But the alcohol emboldened you. 

“Lily, what the fuck is your problem with me?” you asked.

The mood shifted, and Lily gave you a look of disgust. “I was just joking, God.”

“No you weren’t.” 

Lando chimed in. “Well, I think I gotta call it a night.” He got up and patted Oscar on the back. The two men stood up to walk out, leaving just you and Lily alone in the hotel room. 

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but don’t act like there isn’t one. It’s obvious that you don’t want me around, I don’t know what I ever did to you.”

Lily had clearly been sobered up by your seriousness. Still, she burst into tears. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

You sighed, unable to keep your anger in the face of her cries. She continued, “I just… Oscar and I were each other’s first everything. First love, first kiss…first time. I love him so much.”

“I’m not trying to steal him from you.” 

Lily was quiet, and so were you. Something she had said gave you pause. 

They were each other’s first everything—no, that couldn’t be true. 

Because you were Oscar’s first. 

It had been many years—you were both 18—and you had never spoken about what happened. But you remembered. 

He came back home for Christmas from the UK. It was before he had even met Lily. 

You welcomed him home with an embrace—even with the frequent phone calls you had, you couldn’t help but miss your best friend, now here before you, in the flesh.

Neither of you could sleep that night, and somehow you both found yourself in Oscar’s childhood bedroom, quiet in the early hours of the morning.

Though it was warm outside, Nicole had a habit of keeping the house frigid, so you and Oscar huddled together under the handmade quilt that decorated his bed. The moment was tender and quiet, together in the soft darkness. 

“Do you like it in the UK?” you asked him, your question searching for a genuine answer. 

“It’s okay, I guess. It’s what I have to do for the races.”

“But do you ever get…lonely?”

He paused. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

You traced small circles on the skin of your leg. The closeness of the moment was uncomfortable. 

“But you have friends, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re not, y’know, friends for life.”

“I get you.” You really did, not having many friends of your own since Oscar left. “But you must have a ton of girls, though. They all want the cool race car driver.” You smiled, trying to use your humor to lighten the intimacy of the moment. 

“No,” was all he answered. “And if I had a girlfriend, you’d be the first to know, anyway.” In the dark of the room, you could only see the outline of his features, but you could feel the pull of his eyes looking at you. “What, do you have a boyfriend? Is that why you’re bringing this up?” he asked. 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“What do you mean, of course?”

“I mean, why would I have a boyfriend? I have no friends and half the people at school think you don’t even exist.”

“What?” he laughed.

“Well, yeah, when I say my best friend drives race cars in the UK, most people think I’m making you up.” 

“Shit,” he laughed. 

“So, yeah, it doesn’t exactly get me dates,” you laughed. You felt your throat stiffen. “I haven’t even had my first kiss or anything.”

The silence in the room was thick. “I haven’t either,” Oscar confessed. 

You found it hard to believe. Oscar was handsome, funny, everything a girl could want. Neither of you had ever been social butterflies, though. 

Under the blanket, Oscar reached for your hand, placing it in his. Your heart was beating out of your chest; you had never even held a boy’s hand. 

“We could just…do it now,” he said. “Just to get it over with.” He feigned his usual nonchalance, but you could feel the increase of his heartbeat and the ever so subtle tremble in his voice. 

It would be easy for you to laugh it off like a joke. But you knew it wasn’t. And you wanted him. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice breathy with nervousness. 

You sat up on the bed, and saw the dark outline of his figure leaning towards you, gently tilting your head. 

And when his lips met yours, it felt like home. Like everything in your entire life had left you up to this moment, here in the warmth of your best friend’s childhood bedroom.

The kiss lasted longer than you anticipated, but when he did pull away, it was too soon. You were grateful for the darkness that hid your expression. But even without the light, Oscar could see the truth behind your eyes.

“We could…keep going.”

“Okay,” you repeated. 

One of his hands found your waist now, pulling you closer, as his other hand pushed back your hair that had fallen in your face.

Once again his lips met yours. It wasn’t like a spark within you—more like a calming, a sense of peace and safety. Of all the boys you’d crushed on before, Oscar was different. You trusted him with everything. 

And you showed him so. 

He slipped his tongue past your teeth, tentative, as if he was scared to do the wrong thing. But you let him close the gap, your own tongue gliding along his, goosebumps going down your back the closer you got. 

He wanted to put his hands all over you, but he was nervous.

He pulled away. “I…don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t either. Is it actually your first time?”

“Yeah. You don’t mind me being your first?”

“I trust you.”

So you both took it slow, taking each other’s hands where you wanted to be touched, not focusing on anything but the other. 

The love you made was quiet and simple, beautiful yet imperfect. But you didn’t need perfect. You just needed him. 

The next morning, you slipped out of his room before anyone was awake, afraid of what would happen if they found out.

But no one ever did. Oscar never said a word about it ever again, and neither did you; after the holidays, he went back to school and met Lily, and the rest was history. 

But you remembered. And as you sat in that hotel room years later waiting for him, you felt numb. 

By the time he got back Lily had calmed down, but you couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You announced your departure, but Oscar decided to walk you out, too. 

You closed the door behind you, but Oscar pulled you to not leave so quickly. 

“Hey, is everything alright with you and Lily?”

“No. It’s not.” 

He sighed. “I don’t know why she’s being like this.”

You just stared at him, your face blank. 

“What,” he asked, “don’t tell me you’re mad too.”

“Was Lily your first?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” 

Oscar looked over his shoulder. “I’d really rather not talk about this in the hallway…”

“So do you want to go in the room and talk about it? In front of her? Because you lied to one of us. Which one was it?”

“YN, it’s—”

“Which one of us did you lie to, Oscar?”

He let out a sharp exhale, knowing there was no way to escape your line of questioning. He leaned down to whisper to you. “I didn’t lie to her. She just…assumed, and I never corrected her.”

“That’s still lying.”

“You really think I should go in there and tell her the truth?” His voice dripped with frustration.

“Yes. She deserves to know.”

“You know why I never told her? Because I knew this shit would happen, she’d get jealous and try to push you out of my life. If I tell her now, she’ll make me choose between the two of you.”

“Do you blame her?” you asked, astounded at how Oscar could be so clueless.

“Seriously?” he retorted. “You think she’s justified in doing all this to you? The entire reason she’s mad is because she knows if she tries to make me choose, I’m not choosing her.”

“Don’t say that! Oscar, she’s your girlfriend. You should love her.”

“I do. But things just…aren’t the same anymore. It’s like she wants me to change my whole life for her. I can’t do that.”

Unbeknownst to you, Lily got up from the bed and walked to the door, pressing her ear to it, where she could faintly hear you and Oscar arguing. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Oscar continued. “And if you don’t want her to split us up, just let me handle it.”

“Oscar, she deserves better than this. I’ve missed spending time with you, but… you’ve got to tell her the truth.”

Lily opened the door. “I knew it,” she said, her eyes full of tears. “I knew you were cheating.”

Your eyes were wide as dinner plates as Oscar cursed to himself. “Lily, I swear to God that is not what happened—”

“Don’t. Don’t even try,” she said, but Oscar pushed his way back into the room anyway. He looked back to you, and even without words, you knew it was time to go. You needed some sleep.

Unfortunately, Oscar would not be getting any sleep tonight. 

“Oscar, just stop lying to me! I’m tired of this!’ Lily cried, curling her legs to her chest as she sat on the bed.

“Lily, I swear, I have never cheated on you. What YN and I were talking about was something from a long time ago.”

“We’ve been together for five years!”

“Can I just explain myself? Please?”

Lily just broke down in sobs. “Do whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

Oscar sighed. “Look, I…I have lied to you. You weren’t my first. YN was.” He looked at his girlfriend, who was still just silently crying. “It was before we even met, and it was just once, and we’ve never done anything since. I would never cheat on you, I love you and—”

“When and where was it?” Lily asked, cutting him off with her statement more like a command than a question.

“The December before we met, when I came home for Christmas.”

“In your bed?”

He nodded.

“Oscar, I slept in that bed next to you the other night.”

He said nothing. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Haven’t I been good to you?”

“Lily, I promise, I love you more than anything.”

“Then why would you lie to me for five years?”

Oscar took a deep breath and said, “Because I was afraid you would be upset. People don’t understand that me and YN are just friends. I mean, we were raised together, she’s like my sister.”

“You had sex with her. You took each other’s virginity.”

“It wasn’t…like that.”

“How can it not be like that? Do you even hear what you’re saying?” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

About an hour after you left, you heard a knock on your hotel room door, and you answered. It was, of course, Lily. 

“Tell me whatever Oscar wouldn’t,” she said. Her eyes were still puffy and red. 

You welcomed her in, beginning to tell her the entire truth. “Oscar and I had sex when we were 18, before he met you. We never talked about it afterwards. After you met I didn’t want to bring it up, I just assumed he’d do the right thing and tell you. I didn’t want to pry into your relationship.”

So, your stories matched. And Lily knew that you were nothing if not honest. 

“Do you love him?”

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend.”

“No, I mean, are you in love with him?” 

You didn’t answer immediately. What were you supposed to say?

Tears fought their way to the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I don’t know,” you began, but that was a lie, you did know. “I guess…I have a special type of love for him. We grew up together. When we were younger, yes, I wanted to be his girlfriend. But then he met you, and… Lily, he was so happy! I just…I realized that I wanted him to be happy more than I wanted him to be mine. So I made peace with the fact that this is how it had to be.”

Lily was overwhelmed with your honesty, in the face of so much deception. 

You continued, “I don’t blame you for being upset at me. Oscar should have been honest about what our friendship was like from the very beginning instead of lying to you. But I swear, we haven’t done anything while you all have been together. I’ve been cheated on and I know how much that hurts, I would never do that to anyone else. I’m so sorry it ended up like this.”

“No,” Lily said, “You’re the only one who’s been honest with me throughout all of this. Thank you.”

After that, you hadn’t heard from Oscar after that for a long time. Or, at least, a few weeks felt like a long time to you. But you had other pressing matters—your workload was through the roof with Oscar’s wins. Lando had snatched himself a win too, setting up an early battle for the championship. It was too early into the season to call it, but you knew Oscar was feeling the pressure with the possibility of his first championship dangling so close in front of him. So you kept your distance, not wanting to be a distraction.

That was, until he called you, saying just those three painful words.

“Lily left me.”

The sun was cresting over the horizon, illuminating the thick glass of your balcony and flooding light into your living room. You hadn’t gotten an ounce of rest. 

From your bedroom, you could hear Oscar snoring. You just let him sleep. 

God knows you both needed it. 

[jubshead]

𝐌𝐚����𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

Paring: Lydia Lebasi x Reader

Summary: A manager’s duty also includes helping your client after a traumatic experience.

A/N: This character is from Episode 11 from season 16 of Special Victims Unit!

This is a request from a special moot of mine, Tea aka one of my favorite editors. I hope you enjoy!

I've got some other ideas for this character if you guys would like to read

Warnings: Mentioned drug use, Mentioned attempted rape, Age difference, Crying, Fingering

Word count: 2.8k

Date: Jan 10, 2025

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!

Masterlist | Taglist

Tag list: @agathasreality @yippie-kai-gay @missquints @live-laugh-love-lupone @amethyst-bitch @greek-freak101 @crescendoofstars @multixfan @im-a-carnivorous-plant @thoroughly--confused @kukikatt @aggieharkness @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow @diorrxckstar @liliastriangle @cowboykya @czl4t @daddyriovidal @maevaofendora @thecavalrywife @welmelsblog @nctxrejects @bravewithacapitalb @cupofsapphics @darkangelchronicles @confuseuniverse @yun4-st4rx @kinglet1963 @vigilante24ish @xanthreee @cacasburro @ahsfan05

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

A warm breeze sways the white curtains, the sky is blue and a few cheers come from the front of the building, barely audible at the height of the bedroom. The bird chirping makes you grunt, irritated by the noise and squinting against the daylight, you reach out and feel the headboard for a glass of water. The thirst is accompanied by a throbbing headache, the combination can only mean that you had the best, or worst, night. 

Propping up on your elbows, you gulp down the liquid, greedy for the relief it brings to your throat. The water feels like a drop in the desert, there is not enough to satisfy you and, frustrated, you throw yourself back on the bed, feeling a sourness in your mouth.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, trying to settle down the nausea and gather enough courage to get up and take a shower. The slugshiness is typical of these types of mornings. 

Sitting up and running your hands over your face, you place your feet on the cold tile and stand up, only taking one step before bumping into something. Looking down, an uncontrollable scream leaves your lips and you retreat back into the bed, panicked gasps constricting your lungs. 

Motionless brown eyes stare at you, a corpse lying on the floor of your suite. The man is wearing jeans, a shirt with your face on it and crooked glasses. Blood is everywhere, staining his shirt and making a puddle. You look down at yourself and see that, like him, your clothes are splattered with crimson. 

With hands shaking and an anxiety attack creeping up, you try to sort through your jumbled thoughts from yesterday. The night was hazy, the mix of drugs and alcohol affecting your memory and making you look around for answers. Messing up the sheets, you grope the bed in search of something, anything, that would help you. When your hand brushes against a hard object, you freeze, grabbing the cold gun and bringing it into your line of vision.

Oh, fuck. 

It was yours, Lydia had gifted it to you. 

‘For protection’, she had said. Scanning your body for any injuries or unperceived pains, you let out a relieved sigh when you realize you’re fine, physically speaking. 

With your manager in mind, you pick up the hotel phone, dialling and pressing the white device against your ear, you hear it ring. 

“How’s my-”

“Lydia.” You sob, unnoticed tears streaming down your face and the hiccups immediately coming out when you hear her voice. 

“What happened?” The concern is palpable in her tone, a sound comes from the other side of the line.

Unable to formulate a response with your uncontrollable sobs, uneven breathing and blurred vision, you barely register what she says before she’s hanging up. She’s coming up to meet you. 

Time stretches on for what feels like an eternity, in the few minutes you wait for her all the outcomes of this crime flash before your eyes, you still weren’t sure what had happened and you’d be punished for it. 

The knocking brings you an indescribable rush of relief. You stumble out of bed and bang the door open, throwing yourself into Lydia’s arms. For someone so short, she apparently has enough strength to hold your weight and pull you inside, intent to give the two of you some privacy. 

The embrace is like a warm blanket over you, the shushing sounds she makes are a lullaby to your ears and the hand caressing your hair makes you melt. You grip her clothes with closed fists and sob into her neck. 

She rocks you gently, and when the crying begins to subside, she cautiously pushes you forward, cupping your jaw and running her thumbs over your wet cheeks. 

“What happened?” She asks softly. 

Without the courage to answer, you look down and wait for her to follow your gaze. You can tell when she sees him by the way her touch stiffins against your face, you are quick to grab her hands and hold them in place. 

“He was there when I woke up.” You murmur.

“It’s alright, baby. It’s alright.” She focuses her attention back on you. “Do you remember what happened?” 

“No, I took some pills last night…” You answer uncertainly, she wasn't a big fan of you using drugs. 

She grabs your upper arms and takes a step back, inspecting your bloody outfit. You hadn’t seen yourself in the mirror yet, but you could imagine how much of a mess you looked. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“No.” She stares at you. “At least I don’t think so…but Lydia, if this gets out I’m ruined. My career will go down the drain and I’ll most certainly end up in prison. And it had to be now! Just when things start working out for me, I-”

“No, no, no. None of that.” She interrupts your nervous ramble and pulls you close once again, your arms circle her waist. “All that matters is that you are not hurt.” She scans the room, engines turning as a solution forms in her head. 

“Go take a shower, baby. I’ll handle this.” 

It feels so good to have someone take care of your needs, have control over every situation. You don’t even protest as you head to the bathroom, if she said she’d take care of it then she would. Lydia was like that. 

The shock when you see yourself is expected. What you didn’t expect were the thick drops of blood covering your neck and face, the smeared make up and the still dilated pupils, traces of the night in your appearance. Calming yourself with a deep breath, you carefully remove your clothes, throwing them in the sink. 

They’d have to be burned later.

You hear your manager’s voice coming from outside, probably on the phone as she speaks firmly and rapidly. Turning on the shower and stepping under the stream, you let the hot water smooth your worries. You struggle to organize your memories of the night before, you remember the party, the fans, making out with some random woman and, at some point, coming up to your room. 

You know better than to mix your usual sleeping pills with alcohol, you weren’t sure why your drunk self did it, but it was certainly the reason why you were having the worst amnesia of your life. After downing them, you can’t remember much more. A faint knocking sound, someone pushing you inside and your weakened state unable to hold the door. The rest is blackness, you couldn’t recall what happened if your life depended on it. 

And it just might. 

Washing yourself raw, you ignore the noises outside and focus on your bath, running your fingers through your scalp and rinsing the shampoo out, stalling as much as possible. The only thing you wish for at the moment is to be held by Lydia, she would soothe you like she had done before and take care of everything, and in the end it's this desire that makes you step out of the shower.

Your movements are mechanical as you stare at your reflection and brush your wet hair, without makeup you can see the dark bags under your eyes. The movie is being released in a few weeks and what better way to promote it than by throwing the biggest parties? At least that seemed to be the producers’ thinking. 

The voices from outside quiet down, you put on the hanged white robe and open the door. The place is spotless. The sheets are new, the floor is shining and there’s no blood covering the furniture, you’d think your mind was playing tricks on you if it weren’t your manager’s tension.

Lydia is sitting on your bed, typing rapidly on her phone. You notice for the first time that she’s in her nightclothes, black pants and matching blouse, a robe over top. Her straight hair is tucked behind her ears, her bangs are out of place and she’s not wearing a single trace of makeup. She looks beautiful. 

When she spots you, she motions you to come forward, patting the mattress before standing up. You comply with her unspoken request and sit, watching as she fills a glass of water and brings it to you, crouching down and watching as you down the liquid. 

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She says, one of her hands brushing your locks aside while the other rests on your thigh. “What happened?”  

“I’m not sure.” You whisper. “I don't remember a much, but I think- I think he tried-” 

A sob escapes your mouth and cuts you in half, it’s only 10 in the morning and you are already so sick of crying. It doesn’t matter that the sentence was left unfinished, Lydia understands the situation right away. 

She makes shushing sounds and wipes away your tears, letting you get it out of your chest. Your body trembles, your breath comes out in gasps and the hiccups make your throat hurt. 

“Are you sure he didn’t do anything? It wouldn’t be your-”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You snap at her. “I’m not crying because of him. I just- I feel overwhelmed. There are so many ways this could go wrong and the possibility of losing everything I've worked for because of some sick jerk is driving me mad.” 

Your voice is firmer, the confidence you lacked returning to you at the prospect of having your career ruined. 

“Everything is taken care of. There’s no need to worry anymore.” Both her hands fall down to your thigh, their palms brushing up and down. “Relax, okay?” 

“I can’t relax! I killed somebody!” 

Your relationship with your manager has always been great, there hasn't been a single moment where you’ve yelled at her like you just did. This situation is making you anxious. 

“You just went through a traumatic situation.” She squeezes your knees. “Maybe you should-”

“Oh god, Lydia.” You roll your eyes, your body shaking as anger bubbles up in you, the impact of the situation finally settling in as you speak your thoughts out loud. 

Fucking asshole. 

“What can I do to help?” She asks. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly you think of an answer. 

“Can’t you help me relax?” You stare down at her, hoping the meaning behind your words gets through to her.

The request is placed in a very dangerous area. As close as you and Lydia are, you’ve never crossed that line, but you’ve heard the rumors about her relationship with a few of her past clients. It was no secret that the woman in front of you put your desires and needs above all else. It was the reason she was one of the best managers in the country. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you could admit that you’ve had some sort of crush on her for a while now. So when she doesn’t even blink at the insinuation, your heart skips a beat. 

A hum leaves her throat and her eyes roam over your body. Your back is slightly hunched, the robe is rumpled and falling off one of your shoulders. Drops are absorbed into the white material and the wet strand of hair she tucked behind your ear is still there. Your manager is crouched between your open legs, her hands resting on your uncovered thighs.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Her palms travel up, close to your bare center. “Of course I’ll help you.” 

Her soft voice is enough to make you relax into the mattress, the pent up stress settling down as your mind gets distracted by the beautiful woman in front of you. 

She applies pressure to your leg, enough for her to kneel and come face to face with you. Her eyes are comforting and she gives you a reassuring smile before letting out a surprised sound when you crash your mouth against hers, anxiety getting the better out of you. 

The kiss is hard, your breath coming out raggedly as you grab her nightclothes, trembling. One of her hands grips your waist and the other cups your cheek, thumb running over the wet skin and pulling you slightly away. 

“Everything is taken care of.” She repeats. “All you have to do is relax, baby.” 

She’s the one who initiates the kiss this time. It’s slower, languid as she guides you and sets a serene pace, trying to calm you down by taking her time. The fingers beneath your robe graze over the top of your exposed core and you shiver, opening your legs wider. The palm on your face runs down your front, stopping halfway to untie the white material that hides your body. 

She separates, far enough for her eyes to travel over you, admiring your naked form and the way you sit, spread and ready for her. 

Grabbing you ass, she pulls you forward, harder than you expect as your bottom comes to rest at the edge of the bed. She leans into you, nose brushing the skin of your neck as her hands move to your breasts, cupping them and ranking her nails over the skin. 

“Lydia.” You groan. 

A hum reverberates through her, palm bending you back as her tongue runs along your collarbone all the way down to your chest. She sucks on one of your nipples and you whimper, tangling your fingers in her hair and holding her in place. 

Her idle hand travels lower, finding your center and parting your lower lips, digits running over your already wet entrance. 

“Oh, baby. I didn’t know I had this effect on you.” She says and you can only nod as her big brown eyes look up at you. 

She gives you a soft smile and focuses back on your neck, teeth scraping your skin as she holds you by the waist and a finger deeps into you. The feeling of having her inside makes you dizzy, the desire you’ve had for her finally taken care of as she moves, slowly but enough to make you throw your head back and moan. 

The movement gives her more access and she softly bites the junktion of your shoulder, your arousal increasing as she works you up. When her tongue sweeps over the mark she left behind, her digit falters as a second one joins in. The pace changes, she thrusts faster into you, the squelching sound of your core accompanying your groans as you hold onto her shoulder and circle one of your legs around her waist. 

Any thoughts you had before completely vanishes from your mind as she grabs your ass and pulls you forward, going deeper into you. 

“Yes, baby. Let it all go.” She whispers in your ear.

A sob rips from you as she speeds up, your fingers traveling up to tangle in her hair and pull her into a desperate kiss. This time, she lets you lead, swallowing the moans that slip from your mouth and keeping the fast pace as your tongue slides alongside hers. A whine escapes you when she pulls away. 

“I’ll take care of your every need.” She tells you, resting her forehead against your sweaty one and hardening her rhythm. “Everything you wish for is yours.” 

Moaning at her words, you feel your thighs trembling as you grip her neck, ragged breaths mingling. Her fingers curl up and your eyes close of  their own accord, muscles spamming as you pant. 

When her thumb finds your clit and circles it, your whole body tenses. Hands bunching her blouse as you hiccup, legs tightening around her and hips undulating to prolong the pleasure. 

“You’re mine now.”

The words send you tumbling, pleasure cascading along your spine as your walls flex around her fingers and you melt into her touch. Head falling onto her shoulder as the last shocks of your climax ripple through you. 

She holds you as you come down, digits deep inside you, waiting for your approval to pull them out. Her other hand rests in your hair, nails raking across your scalp and making you shiver. 

When you feel you have enough sense of mind to separate, you nod and moan as her fingers leave you. The morning adrenaline rush fades as your body loosen from the orgasm, your eyelids growing heavy as you settle into her embrace. 

“Lie down, baby.” She says, guiding you to the bed and placing a pillow under your head. “Sleep now, you’re safe.” 

She presses a kiss to your forehead and turns around. 

“Don’t leave.” You grab her by the hand, practically whining. “Stay with me.” 

She stares and you give her the biggest puppy eyes you can muster. She’s always been better at this than you, even if it’s unintentional. 

There is no hesitation as she lays down next to you, palm coming to cup your cheek as she examines your face. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” She places a soft kiss on your lips. “Rest now.” 

And just like every other time, you do as she says, letting sleep engulf you as her arm circles your waist and pulls you forward until you’re resting against her neck, her comforting scent lulling you into a dreamless nap.

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

A/N: @yourbasicqueerie asked me to tell you guys that this isn't beta read not bc she didn't want too, but bc she couldn't do it atm

[chippedshake]

Based on a prompt by @amethyst-writer

It's been a couple weeks since Darry and Ponyboy agreed to stop fighting. Of course, months of a strained relationship, of barely contained hollering and silent tears at night aren’t going to vanish with a simple conversation. They're going to keep on arguing, no one could believe anything else, but at least Soda won't be forced to be a middleman anymore. They won't tear their family apart anymore because they're communicating and talking to each other and not bottling up their emotions until they explode in a slap and running away and two of their friends dying.

But old habits die hard and Ponyboy is late again.

"Where've you been?" Darry asks, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

"M'I late?" There’s a testy undertone to Ponyboy's voice, daring Darry to disagree. Is he the only one putting any sort of effort into this whole "no fighting" thing?

"Yeah, buddy, you're late."

They aren't screaming. Two months ago, they would be screaming. Now they're trading tense, passive-aggressive statements with long stretches of silence in between.

Darry doesn't know which one he prefers.

"Sorry."

"Can you stop with the sarcasm for a second and actually talk to me?"

"I am talkin' to you, Darry, you just don't care about what I say 'cause you already got your whole speech prepared."

A scathing reply is crawling up Darry's throat and dancing around his tongue, tickling his gums and pulling at his teeth, trying to force his lips open.

Pony ran away and Soda ran away because you can't keep your temper down.

"Right." He shoves it back and down his throat "I'm sorry, Ponyboy."

Ponyboy can't meet his eyes and shifts his weight to his right leg.

"Don’t worry 'bout it, Dar. I'll try an' be on time next time."

He is. On time, that is, the next time he goes out. Which is the day right after, by the way. As if he didn’t want to spend time with his brothers.

The problem this time is that he's gone out with Curly Shepard and TPd their principal's house.

Pony didn’t even tell Darry. He had to find out when the school called him because they got caught.

"I just can't believe you were this stupid! Don't you ever think, Pony? How do you expect to get out of here when all you ever do is get into trouble with Curly Shepard, who spends more time in the reformatory than in his own house?" Darry takes his coat off aggressively as they walk inside the house and Ponyboy flinches back on instinct.

Darry freezes.

"Shoot, Pony, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't mean to scare you." His voice is soft and careful now; he's talking like he would to a scared child on the street who's missing his parents and scared of the big stranger talking to him.

Oh.

"I'm sorry, Pony." His voice is pleading and he's forcing tears back because he knows it won't help anything if he starts crying now. He's apologising for so much more than just taking his jacket off and they both know it, but Ponyboy won't meet his eyes. He looks anywhere but at Darry, his face drawing back awkwardly as his shoe tries to make a hole in the floor.

"S'fine Darry, I know you didn't mean to."

Pony may say it's fine, but nothing about their situation is fine.

Darry starts noticing. Every time he pulls a chair back. When he wanders out of the kitchen with a knife. A quick hair-ruffle without warning.

It all feels violent. Reminiscent of that night that gets further away with every day that goes by but still haunts Darry's mind the moment he closes his eyes.

And he's trying, he's really trying, to make sure Pony knows he doesn't mean it. Blubbering out apologies, moving slower, announcing actions.

None of it's enough.

Ponyboy doesn't seem to spend any time at home anymore. He's always out. With Cathy or Curly or Mark or even Bryon, who seems to hate him for some reason Darry can't wrap his head around.

He gets home right for dinner and hardly says a word.

It's Darry's fault, if course. No matter how much he apologises, no matter how much he tries to take back all the stupid yelling (and that night, that goddamned night that haunts every night that's come after), it's never enough. Ponyboy isn't going to forgive him and, honestly? Darry can't blame him.

But they promised. They promised Soda that they would try and that they wouldn't hurt him anymore.

And now they’re back in the same place: unspoken tension strung tight in the air whenever Ponyboy and Darry are in the same room, Soda trying his best to dissuade it without taking sides.

Darry doesn't know what to do anymore.

Is there even anything of his family left to save? Did their last hope at functionality die with their parents on those train tracks ten months ago? How can he get his little brother to forgive him?

Does he even deserve forgiveness?

Soda's gone to sleep and Darry's own eyelids are heavy but Pony isn't home yet and he's waiting up.

Ponyboy's fine. He's come home late before, always in one piece. Darry himself used to come home at ungodly hours of the morning when he was still in highschool, and his parents never waited up.

No one waits up for their kids when they go out with friends.

But the moment Darry thinks about going to bed, Ponyboy appears in the park, drowning because Darry trusted him to cool down and come back.

Sue him for being nervous.

The door squeaks open as Ponyboy comes inside and Darry leaps to his feet.

"Where the hell've you been?"

Ponyboy shrugs his jacket off and hangs it on the hook by the door before answering.

"Out."

"Out," Darry repeats sarcastically, "like you always are these days. I'd be surprised if you spent a single minute in this house that wasn't so we could feed you! You ever think about your brothers when you're off on joyrides with Curly Shepard – don't look so surprised, you know I talk to Tim –"

"If you know where I am all the time then you don't gotta worry about it, do you?"

"Yes, I do hafta worry about it because you’re my little brother and Curly Shepard is nothing but trouble."

"Like you ain't friends with Tim–"

"That’s different and you know it. I don’t know how you'd even know who I talk to since you never spend any time at home anyway, but–"

"You ever think that maybe I don’t wanna come home because all I ever get for doin' it is you hollerin' at me? Oh, it's all better now 'cause you apologise fer yellin' all day, but that don't change the fact that you do!"

"What else am I supposed to do? You know damn well we can't keep tearin' Soda apart and God knows you ain't puttin' in any of the effort. Tell me, Pony, what do you want me to do? 'Cause that's all I do, aint it? Just follow your every–"

"I want you to be a better brother!"

A beat of silence.

Ponyboy's breathing quickly, his chest shaking, and Darry can hear the tears he won't let fall.

"D'you remember when I lost your football a year ago?" His voice is fragile, tense, barely audible over the silence that's rushing through Darry's ears. "The one the whole team had signed. You hated me for days. Then we bounced back a week later without even a sorry. And now–" His voice breaks and a faint hiccup makes it through his defences. It takes all that Darry has not to wrap his arms around his little brother "–now ya can't even say two sentences without a sorry bein' in the middle of them and I'm sick of it! I'm sick of it because I ain't fragile and I ain't gonna break if ya tell me to do my homework! I just didn't want you on my case all the time, but even that's better than whatever this is.

"You wanna know why I'm always with Curly? 'Cause he calls me an idiot when I mess things up and he wrestles with me and only says sorry when he actually hurts me. 'Cause he don't treat me like I'm made of glass. And I'm not!"

Ponyboy ends his rant with a little stomp that looks so absurdly childish after their fight that Darry almost laughs.

But it's a stark reminder of the fact that Ponyboy is just a kid. He's just a kid and he's gone through about as much as Darry, who still feels unprepared for it. Ponyboy's fourteen but he isn't, not really. Fourteen-year-olds don't have to worry about their friends crumpling under streetlights or drinking so aggressively they end up in a hospital bed they can't pay for. They don't have to worry about carrying out their best friend's dying wish.

Ponyboy's sick and tired of everyone around him treating him like a kid when he can't really be called one anymore because kids are innocent and what part of Ponyboy can be called innocent right now? He's gone through enough loss to know what he can handle and how he should cope, and yet everyone's assumed he doesn't because he's a scrawny little kid.

Darry walks – stumbles – over to the couch and sinks down into it. He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and runs a hand down his face.

He can't look Pony in the eyes, not now. Not if he really wants to say it right. Instead he stares holes into the couch in front of him, trying his best to find where to start.

"God, I–" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "I'm so sorry, Pony. You're right. It's stupid, I wanted to protect you from the world, at first, make sure you got outta here." He laughs humourlessly. "Can't believe I didn't realise how pointless it was. You can't protect someone from the world they live in. Then I wanted to protect you from myself, which was even stupider, I don't even know what I was trying to do, but I was trying–"

He's cut off by a small body – too small, hasn't he been eating? – ramming into him as Ponyboy sits down on the couch next to him.

"I know," Ponyboy whispers as his arms snake around his older brother, his head buried in Darry's shoulder. "You're tryin' and you ain't perfect." He takes a deep breath. "And I also know I ain't exactly helped much."

Darry gives a breathless laugh. "It's fine, Pony. I wasn't a saint at fourteen either."

He wraps an arm around Ponyboy.

"We'll figure this out, someday, right?"

"'Course we will." Ponyboy's voice is muffled by Darry's shirt so he turns his head to awkwardly look up at him. "We did that thousand-piece puzzle that one time, remember? We're invincible."

He laughs again and ruffles Ponyboy's hair.

"Fuck yeah we are."

[veggidoesart]

snufkin's whole family thinks he's gay- a moomins/bo burnham animatic

by me!

posting it on tumblr first, probably gonna go public on yt tomorrow ^-^

(repost cause i think i messed up the link the first time)

[godlyicarus]

my home is a mouth by youssef khaireddine

hello! i spent the first few months of this year passionately working on self-publishing a poetry collection but i've lost the passion for it so i'm abandoning the project. i still want to share what i've come up with, so even if no-one reads it, here it is! :)

(edit: the above photo was going to be the cover art. there was a poem about it but it didn't make the cut)

[wackus-bonkus-maximus]

odnlb writing process/workshop

this is mainly for my own reference. however, if this post ends up helping you with yours, then even better! 😊

most of you know, i wrote this fic as a practice for using save the cat (aka snyder) structure, and so now that it's complete i have the outline to come back to in a way that i understand and can use in future wips! did i deviate from this structure? yes. a lot. did i still follow all the beats though? i think so! check out how i formatted my outline!

my starting point: marinette 🐞

want: revenge against monarque

need: replace hate with love

this gave me a very clear picture of the emotional journey she would undergo. once i figured out her emotional need and decided what she would do to fulfill that need, i was able to pretty much plot out the entire fic. we needed a hero (in her case, an anti-hero) we could follow through an entire 45 chapter fic, and odnlb marinette gave us a reason to care about her and root for her right off the bat!

here's what save the cat's 15-beat structure looks like at a glance:

(isn't it just beautiful? 😍)

for odnlb, i combined this structure with the 3-act, 9-block, 27-chapter method:

lol so i did not exactly stick to this, as was my plan (my huge cast of characters wanted more from me.) however, i did stick with the proper beats...it just ended up expanding into 5 acts.

this is how my outline ended up looking (orange = save the cat, purple = 3 act 9 block 27 chapters):

act 1 - ladybug meets the villains

block 1

opening image - marinette leaves a rose at chat noir's statue. her eyes are dead (like him)

introductions/setup - 6 years later, marinette works for chloe. adrien still models for gabriel & is estranged from her and his old friends

theme stated - alya says, "you're getting better." (marinette has not been focused on hatred, but her personal growth)

catalyst/ inciting incident - bunnyx steals the rabbit miraculous & draws out the villain team

debate/ immediate reaction / fallout - villain team decides to abandon plan to use rabbit miraculous & get ladybug's miraculous instead. marinette decides to get cat walker's miraculous & kill monarque with it.

block 2

actions - ladybug interrogates adrien agreste bc he is close to lila, chloe, and felix (primary suspects). he doesn't give her any information, but reassures her he is on her side.

consequences - volpina attacks ladybug, villain team overpower her

block 3

pressure - ladybug is outnumbered, cannot stand against all the holders & their power-ups. villain side: ladybug is onto them. ladybug needs an ally & turns to kagami (also close to felix), but kagami turns ladybug down (but why?).

pinch/plot twist - cat walker contacts ladybug: tells her monarque is going to resume akuma attacks unless lb gives her miraculous

break into act 2 - monarque attempts to akumatize ladybug, but cat walker saves her. realizes villains' motivations are split.

act 2 - rise of monarque

block 4

new world - luka and zoe come to town. adrien is in trouble but felix stands by him. su han abandons marinette; he cannot teach her bc she has too much hatred.

fun and games/ b story/ies - felix and adrien switch so adrien can meet his friends for drinks. chloe sneaks snake miraculous back to luka. felix and lila threaten each other. felix likes kagami.

bad guys close in - monarque akumatizes nino to punish adrien. marinette finds out cat walker is a sentimonster

juxtaposition/ old vs new - luka/aspik shows up & joins marinette's side (she's not alone anymore). adrien realizes he has to be alone bc of what happened to nino. kagami confronts felix and gets the dragon miraculous (war begins)

act 3 - adrien identity reveal

block 5

build-up - luka and marinette plot to find the sentimonster. luka confronts adrien indirectly, suspects monarque is gabriel. marinette sleuths on felix (suspected peacock holder) only to discover adrien is a sentimonster/cat walker. kagami finds ladybug & offers to spy on felix & the villain team for her. monarque akumatizes zoe to punish chloe. ryuko gets her felix's amok in the fight, but gets it back when ladybug uses it against him. to stop ladybug harming argos & ryuko, luka reveals chat noir is still alive.

midpoint - montparnasse scene: ladybug confronts cat walker, he admits the truth. stand off with monarque until aspik & mellona rescue ladybug.

reversal - marinette is no longer hate driven, but driven by love to save adrien

act 4 - angrybug reversal

block 6

reaction - due to big emotional distress, ladybug goes into the avatar state (foreshadowing 👀). luka and chloe calm her down. feligami get together. adrien pleads to his father not to harm ladybug.

action/trials (raise the stakes) - the more adrien breaks his amok, the more he breaks his miraculous. marinette is set up to "spy" on adrien for the villain team. villain team plot to corner ladybug at dj wifi wedding.

dedication - adrinette kiss scene. adrien promsies himself he will harm himself before he lets harm come to ladybug. marinette promises no more harm will come to him.

block 7

calm before the storm - lila flashback: she killed nathalie and has been akumatized/transformed for 6 years. balcony scene: marinette tries to keep adrien close to no avail.

pinch/plot twist - volpina and monarque attack chloe, luka, and zoe. vesperia and carapace get their miraculous back. ladybug tries to heal cat walker & free him with her power, but his miraculous is too broken. she can only save him by getting his amok.

everything goes wrong/ dark night of the soul/ all is lost - lila & felix flashback: lila is monarque reveal. ladybug confronts gabriel agreste & tries to kill him, but can't (bc she is no longer full of hate). realizes monarque is lila. monarque takes felix, but kagami takes the other miraculous back to ladybug.

act 5 - fall of monarque

block 8 - finale

power within - team assemble. chloe uses mouse miraculous to activate other holders. lila finds marinette's identity.

action - monarque attacks. luka sacrifices himself to get the upper hand. alya gets the fox miraculous off lila, all her illusions drop. lila akumatizes timetagger, bunnyx shows up to get him. team fights argos and his sentimonster, red moon, to the death. chloe incapacitates argos.

converge - monarque takes the senti-twins and runs. remainder of the team follow her to agreste mansion.

block 9

final confrontation/final battle - monarque tries to make felix fix her miraculous. ladybug and team show up. monarque morphs into monster and attacks. gabriel sacrifices himself to save lb, but monarque still gets the upper hand. chat noir cataclysms monarque with a broken miraculous.

climax - the broken cataclysm destroys the world, but carapace's shield protects remainder of team. with adrien gone, felix is free and emilie is awake. ladybug goes toe-to-toe with broken miraculous final form chat noir, but her power is too weak compared to his untethered destruction. then felix gives her the peacock miraculous and she uses it to create a new bond for adrien, tethering him to life with her love.

resolution/denouement - all of paris knows chat noir is alive! big parade for heroes. ladybug and chat noir do a william and kate kiss. alya shoos off su han. felix gives gabriel to chloe and decides to work for tsurugi tech so he can stay with kagami. zoe and luka decide to go back home for a bit then come to stay too. emilie wants to be close to felix and adrien, but she is def not the priority for them atm. marinette takes the butterfly miraculous back from emilie. adrinette go off on a honeymoon vacation. adrien practices his proposal on a beach.

final image - adrien and marinette playing in the water on a beach on la reunion. “camera” pans away from their silhouettes running around on the sand, back to their stuff on the beach. shows a ring box in adrien’s bag with plagg & tikki chilling.

if this helped you out, i'm so glad! it definitely helped me see how to organize a story. i think if i ever do a fic like odnlb again, i will definitely do this for it.

[bubbleteasing]

bro props to u for chapter seven of Early Bird Catches the Bone cuz holy shit it was marvelous I'm cofjdjdos

[sillypoetproject]

Heart

in their open palms is a heart

still slowly beating as blood drips down their arms

and with a gentle squeeze of their bloodied fingertips

down their arms, the blood slowly drips

and to their face, they bring this heart

so they can see it clearly in front of their eyes

and with one quick breath

the smell of death

surrounds them like some sort of prize

and oh it is you who they felled

gazing upon your pale face as they consume you whole

and oh the sight was one they beheld,

sticky red hands covering their equally red face as the room suddenly went cold

“you beast”, a quiet voice whispered,

a snakelike lilt in it’s words

“you kill and you feast while forever they’ll sleep, all because you wanted your sick comforts”

now usually their skin is thick, tough as a crocodile’s hide

but their hands shook and a whimper escaped their throat as they felt a hit to their pride

“i know they loved me most,” they said weakly after swallowing the sinew in their mouth

“and i warned them beforehand that the taste of their heart was not something i could go without”

and so the room went quiet

as they went to devour the flesh in their hands,

but before their teeth could embrace the meat

the voice pulled them out of their head

“you bring only destruction,” it hissed, “culling all those you see struggling,

and to me, it seems you are entirely unaware of the monster you are slowly becoming”

and with a frown they lowered their arms, laying their hands fisted upon their upper legs,

once more gently squeezing the heart between their fingers as they thought about their new regrets

“i am not a monster,” they said, voice cracking from disuse, “they gave me permission to disembowel them in hopes that within their body i would find use”

the voice went silent as the person spoke, their words said clearly and true

and they stood from their crouch and spun around so the disembodied voice could enjoy the view

if the voice had eyes it would see

a bloody figure with bloody hands holding a bloody heart

in front of a warm corpse

frowning in all directions as they slowly started to mourn

and with great sadness, the disheveled figure began to speak, once again raising the heart to hold it against the side of their face as the organ continued to bleed

“we are close in ways it is hard to describe”, they said,

“because while we like sharing traumatizing stories

of traumatized children

trying to live their traumatic lives

we also understand that these stories are our memories

that our traumatized brains provide”

and as they spoke they stared down at the body,

at the corpse decaying before their very eyes,

and they started to sputter as tears overflowed and their body started shaking with cries

“i didn’t really want to kill you,” they said aloud, speaking to the cadaver in front of them,

“i didn’t mean to make it permanent

but now there are maggots under your skin,

and i’ve never felt so torn

so i’ll take your heart and eat it all up until it is finally gone”

the being heard no more voice, nothing to combat them anymore

and with some sick glee, they fell to their knees beside the body once more

“you love me and i love you,” they whispered,

“and now forever we will be,

for in my stomach, your heart will lay,

right where it should be”

with that, the figure kissed the body, once on both of its cheeks

and they raised the heart, clenched in their fists, to devour the sacred meat

[losingjude]

kind of sucks but idk pls gimme pointers

[carnivorousyandeere]

The DnD Yans’ starter characters thus far (strong homebrew vibes):

Noe: a Metallic Gold Draconic-Orc Paladin. A princess born (hatched?) to parents who were wed for political purposes, she felt deeply called to martial arts and insisted on training with the knights. Once she was old enough and strong enough, she abandoned the throne meant for her to embark on the holy journey she felt called to. The guilt of escaping her family and responsibilities mixes eternally with her joy at adventuring. She’s deeply idealistic, and prone to getting in over her head in her determination to help others. Noe’s characters often share her idealism and hard-headedness, usually trending towards good and lawful alignments.

Millie: a Tiefling Rogue of Dispater’s bloodline— his direct child, and raised to be his eyes and ears in the human world, regardless of their own safety or comfort. They were raised to be strong, agile, sneaky, and above all loyal to protecting their father. They come across as rather laid-back and unconcerned with the goings-on around them, but they’ve got keen ears and pay attention to every little detail you think you’ve hidden. It’s almost impossible to catch them off-guard, and even if you do, they always land on their feet like a cat. Millie’s rogue gets to do things that Millie themself is generally too tired to actually do, or would feel guilty actually doing, though some part of them might like to— like gutting anybody who gets too close to their Darling DM.

Hymn: a Satyr Bard. Channeling their real-life love for music, Hymn figured playing a Bard would be pretty fun. They love the chaotic potential Satyrs are rumored to have. None of their characters really have deep backstories, as many of the characters they come up with are joke characters of some form or another; evil televangelist warlock, a Druid version of Shaggy Rogers who wildshapes into Scooby, a Druid who wildshapes into a horrible goose on a lovely day, etc. Despite this, their characters have a habit of unintentionally spawning heartfelt backstories and making deep connections with NPCs along the way.

Scott: a High Elf Warlock. Before coming to your table, Scott always played the same character over and over again under different names (a High Elf Wizard), but at your encouragement, and with much reluctance, he decided to “try something new,” and make his character a Warlock for his first time playing DnD with you. Everything else about the character is the same— personality, appearance. His character is always a solitary sort of person, who spends all of their time pursuing esoteric knowledge that others couldn’t possibly understand or appreciate. His characters always have a powerful grasp on magic.

[jjngipilled]

"I know pain. I feel it every damn minute every day that I'm alive. I wake up and remember that I never wanted to in the first place. Every step I take is one unbearable agony after another. I can barely function most of the time, let alone think, and these pills are the only thing holding me back from a more permanent solution. If you don’t want to deal with me, if my pain is just too much for you, I’ll close this door right now and you can walk away. I don’t blame you. I could never blame you.”

His speech is finished with anger, anguish, and a multitude of other unnamed emotions flickering across his face. House looks ten years older than Wilson knows him to be, and it stings like a scalding brand in his chest.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re in pain, and I wish I could help you. But I can’t. And you know I can’t. But what I can do is be there for you when you need it.” Looking into his eyes is too intense right now, so Wilson drops his eyes to House’s running shoes that haven’t truly been used in years.

“You’re not weak for needing support, House. You know I care about you, admittedly too much for how screwed our relationship has been for two decades. We need each other, and like I’ve said before, I don’t think that’s such a bad thing anymore.”

He looks up again, scanning House’s face for the deeper emotions always hidden under his cold facade. His face is impassive, but his eyes tell worlds of information, a million miles away in a far away land. But Wilson can see. He’s always been able to, no matter the time or place or insane context. He feels himself breaking, overcome with the emotions he’s repressed for years. To think this would be the day he couldn’t hold it anymore. A gloomy Sunday in August, slight chill creeping along the ground and through his thin jacket.

Turning, he hears House inhale sharply as if to say something, but ultimately shuts his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. A shudder wracks his shoulders and down his spine as he walks away from the low steps of the building. Leaves scrape across the ground, red and brown in retreating summer warmth.

Brow tense and eyes shining, he leaves the light of the lamppost behind as the distance between them grows with each tired step.

[starryalpacasstuff]

The Mask

I made a mask. Not today, not yesterday, but over the course of two, painstaking years. I would not say I am particularly good at creating masks. I had never made one before this one. But it's quite an extraordinary mask, and like it exists no other. I did not make it in a workshop, or even in the way you would expect a mask to be made. I placed the pieces on myself, one by one, sometimes right after one another, sometimes with months in between. This mask is not made of paper, or metal, or cloth. It is made of pain and sadness, adorned with dreams and wishes. I am not quite sure if the mask is done yet. Perhaps one day, I may decide to add something to it. But for now, I believe this is my best work to exist. It fits like a second skin, and fades from your conscience once you slip it on. It is convincing, almost too convincing. So much so that at times, I forget that I am wearing one at all. I made a mask. And I can no longer tell where it ends and I begin.

[kirins-stuff]

The latest chapter is now up on Ao3

Title: Bend and Don’t Break

Rating: PG-13/T

Summary: Fifty years have passed since the Avatar’s disappearance. Fifty years since the war between nations came to a bitter end. A new world has risen from the ashes of tragedy. Yet the embers of war threaten to rekindle. Faced with a precarious future, a simple Water Tribe girl seeks to restore balance to the world. (InuKag, AtLA AU)

Content warnings: Canon-level violence (Inuyasha), major character death, swearing, body horror, psychological horror, torture, sexual intimidation, physical abuse of minors, psychological abuse of minors,  mentions of death and injury to minors, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, bigotry and prejudice

Pairings: Inuyasha x Kagome, Onigumo/Naraku > Kikyou (unrequited), Akitoki Hojo > Kagome (unrequited), past Inu no Taishou x Izayoi, male OC x male OC, female OC x female OC

Genres: Fantasy, Action/Adventure, Drama, Romance

Chapter preview:

Hiten didn't even hit the ground. The spirits met his fall with cries of rapture. He was swallowed by a wave of shadows. 

Inuyasha hurtled after him with a yell. He slammed into the dirt inches from the gate. The spirits tore at the barrier as they scrabbled to claim him. Their claws still couldn't reach beyond the stones. He watched the onslaught with an ashen face...

[lustlessgrace]

restrict it all so i feel fuller

it hurts to eat but i’m not bitter

live forever under someone else’s reign

not my voice that leads the way

somehow she’s even meaner

leading the day she won’t go away

often it feels like a loosing game

that i never even wanted to play

‘someone help me’ i want to scream

the only exit is a deadly reach, but still

i like to think sometimes i’m clean

no dirty hands all over me

only the ones i’ve prescreened

[grayh0und777]

Food For Thought

I want to start a blog, or a magazine, or something where young artists and writers can get together to share their art. I'm not sure. I'm a huge writer and for the first time I'm interested in nonfiction, specifically journalism. However, art will always be my first love and it would probably be art focused. I want to include poetry, short stories, book reports, scientific journalism, activism, etc etc.

My biggest issue is that I have a LOT of hobbies and my focus changes every few months. I'm worried that I will only be invested for a few months then decide to move onto upholstery, or whittling, or something else equally random. I don't want to put effort into something and then leave my two whole readers hanging.

This could also be seen as a good thing. I want to this to be a showcase of the esteemed "homosexual audacity". People in our generation are extremely talented for our young age. We are passionate with many interests, I want to create a space to share all of our miscellaneous talents. So as the tides of our collective attentions change, so will the contents of the blog/journal/magazine, making for interesting and fresh reading material.

Thoughts? I'm looking for the harshest contructive criticism. Is this even an interesting idea? Will this last? I am asking for unnessesarily crude opinions. :)

[piratesexmachine420]

2012-12-05

It is December 5th, 2012 and somewhere around two in the morning, mountain time. You’re watching the news. Everyone is watching the news. It’s because they’re talking about aliens. In the movies, when the news is talking about aliens, they love to show people all over the world huddled around their televisions and watching the news about aliens. People are saying “truth in fiction” a lot. You wish there was less truth in fiction.

They’re saying it’s going to land in China, and you’re imagining some salt-of-the-earth rice farmers crowded around a tube TV; kids plopped straight on the floor, grandma or grandpa rocking in a big wooden chair, mom and dad looking in from the kitchen door. They’re all transfixed by the television.

You wonder if maybe your mind’s eye is a little racist.

The news anchors are talking about how fast it’s falling again. About how all the scientists thought it would have slowed down by now, if it didn’t want to crash. Just a couple minutes to touchdown, they say. Touchdown. Nobody on the TV is saying “crash”. But they’re thinking it. And you’re thinking it. So you try to imagine the family instead.

It’s cold in the living room, so you get up to grab a blanket from the closet. You’re trying not to think about how the dinosaurs went extinct.

Too fast.

Can’t slow down.

Crash.

You’re rounding the corner into the kitchen when it starts.

First, everything goes silent. Then the lights go out. Everything is pitch black. The power must have gone out. You grope around, trying to find where you are, among the counters and cookware. Then, you hear a humming. It’s coming from the walls, high-pitched, and something in your gut tells you it’s very bad. You look up, and realize you can see again. There’s light coming through the windows – some kind of greenish, sickly luminance from above the clouds. It isn’t very bright, but it hurts to look at,. You stumble your way forward, shielding your face from the glow. You really need that blanket now. One step forward, two steps, and then you trip. The ground is shaking.

You’re shaking too.

Okay.

You gotta get under a table, right? That’s what all those earthquake drills in elementary school were for, right? You crawl backward, lurching your way to the dining room as fast as you can. There’s a “bang!” sound, like a gunshot or a bomb. You dive for the ground, curl up like a baby. The humming is louder now, and the green light is getting brighter. You think you smell smoke. There’s another “bang” sound, much closer, coming from the kitchen sink. You don’t want to look at it. You glance from behind your fingers, and see the faucet is blown clean off. Steam is billowing from the wreckage. The humming is still louder. You definitely smell smoke. There’s a flash, like lightning, and you hear glass breaking. A light bulb maybe. There’s a chandelier hanging over your table. There are sirens in the distance. Fire trucks, or maybe ambulances.

You curl up tighter. If those sirens don’t come help you, you’re probably going to die. All the way on the opposite side of the world. You wonder what might’ve happened to your hypothetical farmer family. You wonder if they’ll tell you on the news.

You wonder if there’s still going to be news. You wonder if this dining table can take another lighting fixture falling on it, or if you need to move.

You’re starting to see smoke now, coming from the outlets. They look blackened and burned and covered in soot but it’s still hard to tell in this light. You close your eyes. You hear another “bang!” from somewhere in the neighborhood. Then another. Bang, bang, bang. There’s a lot more sirens. Your neighbor is trying to start his car, but it doesn’t sound like it’s working. You hear it backfire, or some other loud noise. You don’t really know that much about cars. He goes quiet.

You open your eyes again. The glow is getting dimmer, and there’s a fire somewhere. Too much smoke. You push yourself to your feet, and it feels like a nightmare. Everything is so fast you’re so slow. Your hands tremble as you pull yourself to your feet. The ground isn’t shaking anymore. You glance quickly around, then bolt for your front door.

Thank god it’s unlocked thank god it’s unlocked thank god it’s unlocked.

You throw it open and dash into the middle of the street.

The whole town is dark, though you see some spotlights near the river. In the distance is… some kind of inferno. There’s a fire hydrant on the corner. It looks like it was bombed. Water is spewing everywhere. You look for your neighbor. He’s safe, you think. The car doesn’t seem damaged. Probably. It’s hard to tell. You glance up at the sky again, and the light is nearly gone. You hear the grumble of an engine. You look to your neighbor again, but his car hasn’t moved. Behind you, someone on a motorcycle shoots by. You’ve never seen anyone ride a motorcycle that fast before. You have no idea where they’re going.

You turn back to your house, try to take stock of the situation. Smoke is pouring from every window. There’s smoke everywhere. From every building. Someone down the street runs out their front door. They’re yelling something. You listen to the sirens instead. It’s hard to say if they’re moving or not.

You slowly sink into a seated position, here in the middle of a four-way intersection, and try to think about tomorrow. It is now 2:00 AM exactly.

---Stories from 1C, CRWPA – Commission to Elect Joe Biden, 2015-05-27.