aurielle

PIASTRI ılıılı: "uhm yeah. make sure to check out everything else."

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thank you so much beautiful! was v fun to write cut my hair!

it also gave me some sort of an idea for an oscar fic tho hear this out

oscar+no im not in love + avoidant reader who is in fact in love w oscar (they re in a relationship but without a label on it,more like a situationship without the toxic part,like doing coupley stuff and being exclusive,its just that she also keeps him at a distance half the time just bc of the avoidant part in her ) but im thinking of 50/50 angst and fluff and how they navigate the situation and how he’s a yearner and very understanding and the process of taking it slow so she feels comfortable in finally making it official and yk being all cute and stuff once they do🥰🤏🤏 maybe a bit of smut too or smth? hope you understand my vision sorry i yapped😭

No I'm not in love

ᯓwho☆: 𝑜scar x reader (fluff, angst, smut) ᯓwhat☆: you tell oscar, "no i'm not in love" when you really are. ᯓwc☆: 3k (3433) ᯓa/n☆: sono davvero così orgoglioso di questo banner MWAHHAA and also thank you so much for 109 followers <3 ti amo ti amo ti amo tanto

you’d always been careful with people. careful with your time, careful with your heart, careful with who you let in. and somehow, against all your carefully laid plans, oscar had found his way inside anyway.

it wasn’t official—at least, not in the way most couples were. no labels. no social media announcements. no pressure. but somehow, between stolen coffee breaks, late-night texts, and quiet evenings together, you were… together. kind of.

“hey,” oscar said one evening as you both sat on the couch after a long day at the track, his hand brushing against yours as he leaned back lazily. “you’ve been awfully quiet today. something on your mind?”

you shrugged, turning your gaze toward the floor. “no… nothing.”

he let it slide, fingers still brushing yours, the contact light enough to be safe but heavy enough to make your chest flutter. “you know you don’t have to hide from me, right?” he murmured, voice soft, steady.

you swallowed. “i know…”

he didn’t push. he didn’t ask for more. he just sat there, warm and patient, letting the silence stretch comfortably between you. it was strange… unnerving, even. because normally, you’d pull back at the first hint of closeness. but with oscar, something felt… different.

some nights were easy. he’d show up with coffee, or sit with you on the balcony, laughing at your tired jokes. other nights, your walls would creep back up, and you’d find yourself replying late to his texts, avoiding his calls, inventing excuses to disappear.

“you’ve been gone all day,” oscar said softly one night, as you finally slid open the door to your apartment. he was on the couch, hoodie pulled tight, legs curled up, a book forgotten on his lap. “everything okay?”

“yeah… fine,” you mumbled, brushing past him toward the kitchen.

he didn’t move, just watched you with those warm, unwavering eyes. “you can’t hide from me forever,” he said gently. “i’ll wait. and you… you know you can come back.”

you froze, fork halfway to your mouth, and for a second, you let yourself imagine… letting him in completely. but the walls crept back, subtle but firm. “i’m fine, oscar,” you said quickly, turning to hide the flutter in your chest.

he smiled faintly, letting it drop, but you could see it in his eyes—he knew. he always knew. and that knowledge, that patience, was… dangerous. because the more he understood you, the more you realized just how much you wanted to let him see the rest of you.

and so, the two of you continued. no labels, no promises beyond the unspoken ones. just quiet mornings, late-night texts, and touches that lingered a little too long. it was safe. it was messy. it was… exactly what you needed.

days passed, and the rhythm of your “situationship” continued—coffee in the mornings, teasing texts during the day, quiet evenings together. but then… the avoidant part of you started creeping in.

it was subtle at first. a slow reply to his messages, a small excuse to leave when he showed up at your place, the tiniest hesitation when his hand brushed yours. you didn’t mean to push him away—it was instinct. it was protection. but oscar noticed. always.

“hey,” he said one afternoon, voice gentle, on the phone. “i haven’t heard from you in a while… everything okay?”

you bit your lip, glancing out the window, heart twisting. “yeah… i’m fine, oscar. just… busy.”

“busy,” he repeated, a small chuckle in his voice, not frustrated, not accusing. “right… i get that. just… don’t disappear on me, okay? i worry.”

you swallowed hard, fingers curling around the edge of the table. “i… i’m not disappearing,” you whispered, though you weren’t entirely sure it was true.

that night, he showed up at your door anyway. hoodie on, messy hair, tired but smiling. he didn’t say anything about your absence, didn’t ask for explanations. he just sat next to you on the couch, letting his shoulder brush yours.

“you’re quiet tonight,” he said softly. “you can tell me what’s going on if you want. or not. i’m fine either way.”

you wanted to pull back, to retreat into your own walls. but the warmth of him, the way he didn’t push… it made your chest ache in ways you weren’t ready to admit. “i’m fine,” you muttered, voice tight.

he let it drop, settling next to you, close enough that his warmth seeped through the blanket between you. “okay,” he said quietly. “i’ll wait for when you’re ready.”

and that was the thing. oscar didn’t demand. he didn’t try to break down your walls with words or arguments. he just… existed, steady and patient. every time you pulled back, he didn’t run. every time you hid, he stayed. and somehow, that patience was breaking you down more than you wanted to admit.

the next morning, he left a note on your counter:

“thinking about you. hope today is kind to you. i’ll be here.”

you found yourself reading it three times, chest tightening, fingers brushing the words as if they could absorb some of the warmth he’d left behind.

and somewhere, deep in the part of you that you didn’t like to admit existed, you realized… you wanted him. not just for now, not just in safe little pieces, but all of him.

but letting him in completely… that was terrifying.

you didn’t wake up one morning magically healed.

you didn’t suddenly become someone who could say what she felt without flinching.

but you did start trying.

it began with something small. you texted him first.

good luck today. don’t mess up your start.

his reply came almost instantly.

Wow. Initiating conversation? Who are you and what have you done with her?

you rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself.

shut up.

Never. See you later?

normally, you would’ve left that unanswered for a while. kept it ambiguous. kept the distance.

this time, you didn’t.

yeah, i'll be in the mcl hospitality.

he arrived with takeaway and that soft, hesitant smile he always wore when he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“i come in peace,” he said, lifting the food like an offering.

you stepped aside to let him in. “you’re dramatic.”

“i have to be careful,” he replied lightly. “one wrong move and you disappear for twelve hours.”

your stomach twisted.

he said it teasingly, but it was true.

you closed the door and leaned against it. “i’m trying,” you muttered.

oscar paused.

not pushing. not rushing. just… waiting.

“i know,” he said gently. “i can see that.”

and somehow that was worse. because he noticed the effort. he noticed everything.

later that night, you were sitting on the couch, knees touching, the movie playing but long forgotten.

you shifted slightly, then slowly—very slowly—rested your head against his shoulder.

it felt monumental.

oscar froze for half a second, not because he didn’t want it, but because he didn’t want to scare you by reacting too strongly, so he stayed still. calm. steady.

after a few seconds, he carefully let his head lean against yours.

“this okay?” he asked quietly.

you nodded against him.

“yeah.”

his hand hovered for a moment near your waist before settling there gently. not pulling. just resting.

you didn’t move away, you didn’t tense, you stayed.

and he let out the smallest breath of relief.

the next breakthrough came a week later.

you were walking through the paddock together, side by side, the usual chaos around you. normally, you kept a careful inch of space between your hands.

today, your fingers brushed his.

you hesitated.

then you laced them together.

oscar looked down at your joined hands like you’d handed him something fragile and priceless.

“are you sure?” he asked softly.

you squeezed his fingers. “stop asking that.”

he smiled, small and warm. “sorry.”

but he didn’t let go.

the walls didn’t disappear overnight.

there were still moments where you pulled back. still nights where you went quiet and needed space.

but now, instead of disappearing completely, you told him.

“i need a little time,” you’d say.

and he would nod. “okay. i’ll be right here.”

and he always was, steady, understanding.

never making you feel like you were too much. or too distant. or too difficult to love.

one night, curled up in his hoodie, you found yourself staring at him while he talked about something random and technical.

you weren’t even listening.

you were just… looking at him.

at the softness in his eyes. the way he never rushed you. the way he treated your heart like it was something breakable and worth protecting.

“what?” he asked, catching you staring.

“nothing,” you said quickly.

he narrowed his eyes playfully. “you’re thinking.”

“dangerous, i know.”

he nudged you lightly. “hey.”

you looked at him again, and for once, you didn’t look away immediately.

you stayed.

“no i'm not in love.” you blurted.

there it was. the defense mechanism.

oscar didn’t flinch.

didn’t look hurt.

didn’t push.

he just smiled softly and brushed his thumb over your knuckles.

“okay,” he said gently.

and somehow that made your chest hurt more than if he’d argued.

because he wasn’t trying to win.

he was just… waiting.

and you were starting to realize that maybe the slow steps weren’t about protecting yourself anymore.

maybe they were about learning how to stay.

it happens on an ordinary night.

which feels unfair, somehow.

you always thought if you were ever going to say it—really say it—it would be cinematic. dramatic. rain outside the windows. swelling music in the background.

instead, you’re sitting cross-legged on oscar’s bed, wearing one of his old team shirts, watching him try to fix the string on his hoodie.

he’s concentrating like it’s life or death.

“you know you could just… buy a new one,” you say.

he looks up. “and abandon this one? after everything we’ve been through?”

“you’re insane.”

“yeah,” he shrugs lightly. “but you like me.”

your heart does that annoying, fluttery thing.

“don’t get cocky.”

he grins.

and then it fades a little. not into sadness. just into something softer.

“you’ve been… different lately,” he says carefully.

there it is.

you tense automatically. he notices. of course he does.

“different how?” you ask, too casual.

“in a good way,” he adds quickly. “you’re… here more.”

here.

not just physically. not just sitting next to him.

here.

you stare at the thread in his hands instead of his face.

“i told you i was trying.”

“i know,” he says quietly. “i just don’t want you to feel like you have to force anything. i don’t want you to feel cornered.”

cornered.

he always phrases things like that. like your feelings are something fragile he’s afraid to bruise.

“you’re not cornering me,” you murmur.

he nods once. but he doesn’t look fully convinced.

and something about that makes your chest tighten.

because he’s not unsure of you.

he’s unsure of whether he’s allowed to want more.

later, when you’re lying side by side, the lights off, the room dim except for the faint glow from outside, he traces lazy circles on your arm.

you’re facing away from him.

he’s careful. always careful.

“can i ask you something?” he whispers.

you swallow. “okay.”

“what are you scared of?”

you don’t answer right away.

you could deflect. joke. brush it off. you’ve done it a hundred times before.

but his hand is warm against your skin. steady.

and you’re tired of pretending you don’t know the answer.

“losing control,” you say finally. “needing someone too much.”

he’s quiet for a moment.

“i don’t want you to need me,” he says softly. “i just want you to want me.”

that hits deeper than you expect.

because you do, you always have, you just hate how much.

the shift happens a few days later.

you’re at the track. it’s busy. chaotic. loud.

someone asks oscar, casually, “so is she your girlfriend or what?”

you freeze.

you expect him to hesitate. to glance at you. to downplay it the way you both always do.

instead, he smiles slightly.

“we’re… figuring it out,” he says.

not dismissing you, not claiming you without permission, just honest.

later, when you’re alone, you pull him aside.

“you could’ve just said no,” you tell him.

“could’ve,” he agrees.

“why didn’t you?”

he looks at you like it’s obvious.

“because that wouldn’t have been true.”

your throat feels tight.

“oscar…”

“i’m not rushing you,” he says gently. “i’m not putting a label on it if you’re not ready. i just… don’t want to pretend you’re temporary.”

temporary.

that word slices straight through you.

because you’ve been acting like this is something that could vanish at any second.

like if you never say it out loud, it won’t hurt as much if it ends.

but he’s been treating you like you’re staying.

that night, you sit beside him in the quiet of his apartment, knees touching.

you’re nervous. which is ridiculous. you’ve kissed him. slept next to him. memorized the sound of his breathing.

and yet this feels scarier.

“i think,” you start slowly, “i think i push you away sometimes because if i act like i don’t care that much, then… it won’t wreck me if it goes wrong.”

he listens. really listens.

“but it already would,” he says gently.

you blink.

“what?”

“if this ended tomorrow,” he continues quietly, “it would wreck you. and it would wreck me. pretending otherwise doesn’t change that.”

you stare at him, and you realize he’s right. you’re not protecting yourself, you’re just delaying the inevitable vulnerability.

your hands are shaking slightly when you reach for his, he stills instantly.

“i don’t want you to be temporary,” you whisper.

he swallows.

“yeah?”

you nod.

and then, before you can talk yourself out of it—

“i don’t want this to be some half-thing anymore.”

the air feels electric.

“are you sure?” he asks softly, but there’s hope in his voice now. not pressure. hope.

you take a breath.

and for once, you don’t run from the feeling rising in your chest.

“i’m not good at this,” you admit. “i’ll probably still need space sometimes. i’ll probably freak out occasionally.”

he smiles a little. “i can handle that.”

“but i don’t want to keep pretending i’m not in love with you.”

silence. thick. fragile.

his eyes search your face like he’s making sure you’re real.

“say that again,” he whispers.

your heart is pounding so hard it feels unreal.

“i’m in love with you.”

it’s not dramatic, it’s not loud, it’s shaky. honest. yours.

and the look on his face, soft. relieved. almost overwhelmed—makes every bit of fear worth it.

he leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away.

you don’t.

when he kisses you, it’s not desperate, it’s certain.

his hand slides to your waist, grounding you. anchoring you, and when you pull back, he presses his forehead to yours.

“hi,” he murmurs.

you let out a breathy laugh. “hi.”

“girlfriend?” he asks gently.

you hesitate—

just for a second.

then you nod.

“boyfriend.”

he smiles and this time, when you curl into him, you don’t feel like you’re losing control.

you feel like you’re choosing to stay.

and when you returned home, he gave you a little treat.

(mdni.) "oh- osc…" you moaned as he inserted 2 digits into you. oscar sucked on your clit, tongue lapping at your folds. your hips gently moved on his face, his nose poking your hole and you groaned, "fuuuuuuck…." you could feel oscar's smug smirk as he continued licking stripes up your core. "oh- osc…" you moaned as he inserted 2 digits into you. oscar sucked on your clit, tongue lapping at your folds. your hips gently moved on his face, his nose poking your hole and you groaned, "fuuuuuuck…." you could feel oscar's smug smirk as he continued licking stripes up your core.

his fingers thrust in and out of you, "d-don't stop, osc… urgh shit…" your hands go to his hair, pulling on it harshly yet gently, not harsh enough to make him in total pain but only a bit of pain. when you pull harder, he licks faster. he presses a kiss to your inner thigh then he stands up, gripping your hips to make you stay still as he inserts his cock slowly into your cunt.

he lets you get used to his size, then he thrusts softly, "this okay?" he asks. you nod and press kisses on his face then slowly down his neck. you whimper at each thrust, his cock stretches you out so well. "so fuckin' tight love." he groans and plays with your tits. oscar's tongue circles your nipples and sucks them. your nails drag down his shoulders and back.

"fuck osc i'm… so close." his hips goes faster, burying his face in your neck. "m' comin-" you moan out as your walls squeeze around oscar's dick. he cums too, hips slowly faltering as he wraps his arms around you and kisses your neck as you both doze off.

the next day isn’t fireworks.

it isn’t dramatic, it’s quiet, and somehow that makes it mean more. you don’t wake up panicking the next morning.

you don’t feel the urge to pull away, you wake up tangled in him, his arm heavy around your waist, his breathing warm against the back of your neck.

and for once… you don’t feel trapped.

you feel safe.

you shift slightly, and he stirs. “mm,” he murmurs, tightening his hold instinctively. “don’t go.”

you smile to yourself. “i’m not.”

he hums, half-asleep. “good.”

you lie there for a moment, staring at the soft morning light creeping through the curtains.

this is what scared you, you realize, not heartbreak, not vulnerability, this. the calmness. the steadiness. the way loving him doesn’t feel like falling off a cliff. it feels like stepping into something warm.

later that week, it happens naturally.

you’re in the paddock again. chaos everywhere. cameras, engineers, drivers moving past.

someone asks him again.

“so is she your girlfriend?”

this time, he doesn’t hesitate.

“yeah,” he says simply.

no disclaimers.

no glances at you for approval.

just certainty.

your stomach flips.

but you don’t panic.

instead, you step closer to him. your hand sliding into his.

and when he looks down at you, there’s that same soft expression from the night you finally said it.

like he still can’t believe you chose him.

you still have moments.

moments where you get quiet, moments where you overthink, moments where the old instinct to retreat whispers in your ear.

but now, instead of disappearing, you talk.

“i’m spiraling a bit,” you admit one night, sitting on his kitchen counter while he cooks.

he turns immediately. “okay. about what?”

“about us,” you say honestly. “about messing it up.”

he walks over, standing between your knees.

“you know what would mess it up?” he asks gently.

you shake your head.

“not telling me.”

he cups your face gently.

“we’re allowed to be scared,” he murmurs. “we’re just not allowed to run.”

you nod slowly.

you’re learning.

the real moment—the one that settles everything—comes unexpectedly.

it’s after a long race weekend. he’s exhausted. you’re tired. both of you quiet in the car ride back.

you’re staring out the window when he reaches over and squeezes your hand.

not to reassure you.

not because he thinks you’re drifting.

just because he wants to.

and something about that small, unconscious gesture makes your chest ache in the best way.

you look at him.

at the way he drives carefully. at the faint crease between his brows when he’s focused.

and it hits you.

this isn’t fragile, this isn’t temporary, this isn’t something you have to brace yourself for. it’s real, steady, grown.

“what?” he asks when he catches you staring.

you shake your head, smiling softly.

“nothing.”

but then you lean over and kiss his cheek.

and he grins like you’ve handed him the world.

months later, someone teases you.

“so you finally admitted you were in love with him?”

you roll your eyes.

“i was never not in love with him.”

and that’s the truth.

you just had to learn that love doesn’t mean losing yourself.

it means choosing someone.

over and over.

and when oscar finds you later, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder—

“what are you thinking about?” he asks.

you lean back into him easily.

“that i’m glad i stayed.”

he kisses your temple.

“me too.”

and this time, when you say it—

“i love you.”

there’s no fear underneath it.

just home.

valentine-y chaos

ᯓwho☆: 𝐆eorge x reader x 𝓟ierre (fluff, angst) ᯓwhat☆: a chaotic valentines ensues between you, george and pierre. ᯓwc☆: 2k (2249) ᯓa/n☆: HAPPY BELATED VALENTINES DAY ++ GEORGE DAY ++ PIERRE DAY!!!!

the paddock was buzzing with valentine’s day energy—balloons dangling from ceilings, chocolate hearts scattered on tables, engineers pretending to care, drivers pretending to be romantic. you were walking with lando through the McLaren garage, pointing out tweaks on the car.

“—so if we adjust the front wing angle, we might—” you started, when suddenly two figures came barreling toward you like a hurricane.

george and pierre both running full tilt.

george had a single red rose, petals perfect, fingers gripping it like it might fly away. pierre held a small box of chocolates, neatly wrapped, eyes locked on you as if nothing else existed in the world.

“hey—uh, listen!” george shouted, nearly colliding with your side.

“wait i—i have something for you too!” pierre yelled, chocolate box extended like a truce flag.

lando blinked, utterly baffled. “oh… uh… thanks? you guys… uh… coordinated this… or?”

george and pierre stopped right in front of you, breathing hard, flushed, hearts pounding.

“will you go out with me?” george demanded, rose trembling slightly in his hand.

“no, wait! will you go out with me?” pierre shouted, brandishing the chocolate like it could convince you.

lando’s eyes widened. “ohhhhhh—uh thanks! i mean… wow, you guys are… uh, intense. but my valentine—or, uh, my boylentine—is… uh…” he scratched his head, peering around nervously. “max? no, wait… maybe it’s carlos? or osca-" he cut himself off when he saw george and pierre's death stare towards him and realized this wasn't about him and he bolted off, flailing slightly, hands waving, muttering something about “urgent valentine stuff” as he nearly tripped over a toolbox.

you blinked, heart hammering, caught somewhere between amusement, shock, and the sheer absurdity of what was happening. george’s rose wavered as he tried to steady himself, and pierre’s chocolate box shook in his hands as he glared daggers at george.

“uh… so?” pierre finally said, voice rough, desperate.

george’s jaw tightened. “so… i think you know how i feel. will you?”

you laughed nervously, cheeks red, glancing between them. “well… you both—”

george leaned forward, rose outstretched. “me first?”

pierre countered, stepping closer, chocolate in hand. “no… me first.”

you took a deep breath, cheeks still warm from the earlier chaos. george still held the rose, slightly drooping in his hand, and pierre clutched the chocolate box like it was a shield.

“okay… i’ll go…” you said slowly, letting the words hang in the air, “…with both of you. best man wins.”

george blinked. pierre blinked. and then… both of them nearly fell over from shock.

“wait—what?” george finally said, voice sharp with disbelief.

“best… man… wins?” pierre echoed, voice a mix of amusement and challenge.

you raised a hand, cutting them off before they could launch into arguments or protests. “but this is not the start of a relationship. this is just me… giving you guys a chance. i want to see… how it goes. no promises, no expectations. just a chance.”

george’s jaw tightened, the competitive spark in his eyes igniting instantly. “oh… it’s on,” he said lowly, lifting his rose slightly as if to say game face on.

pierre smirked, chocolate box in hand, puffing out his chest. “best man, huh? challenge accepted. may the best man win.”

the tension between them crackled, electric and undeniable, and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously. your heart was hammering, not from fear but from the chaos you’d just unleashed. valentine’s day had officially become a battlefield, and you were standing smack dab in the middle.

you laughed again, shaking your head. george and pierre’s competitive stares were locked on each other, both trying to measure who could impress you first. the battle lines were drawn, and somehow, your heart was fluttering faster than a car hitting the apex at monza.

for george's date, he led you into a small, upscale restaurant just off the city circuit. soft golden lights glimmered across the walls, a single candle flickered on each table, and a quiet jazz melody floated through the air. the table was set perfectly: polished cutlery, crystal glasses, and a single rose waiting in the center.

george ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly out of place among the elegance, but he wore a determined, soft smile. “i… i hope you like this,” he said quietly, guiding you to your seats.

you smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “it’s beautiful. thank you.”

he sat down across from you, and for a moment neither of you spoke, letting the soft clink of cutlery and faint laughter from other tables fill the space. then george leaned slightly forward, his fingers brushing yours as he reached for the menu.

“so… i wasn’t sure what to do tonight,” he admitted, voice low, “but i wanted it to be… special. just… you and me.”

you felt your chest flutter. “it already is.”

through the courses—light salad, roasted vegetables, perfectly cooked fish—you laughed over small jokes, teased each other softly, and shared glances that lingered a little too long. every brush of hands, every accidental touch on the table, sent sparks up your arm and made your heart skip.

at one point, george leaned back, fingers still lightly touching yours. “you know,” he said quietly, “i’ve never… done something like this. but i’m really glad i get to be here with you tonight.”

you smiled warmly, your hand squeezing his just slightly. “me too, george. me too.”

by dessert, the candlelight danced across his face, highlighting the softness in his eyes, the slight curve of his lips. he reached across the table, brushing a stray hair from your cheek, and you felt your heart hammer in your chest.

as the night ended, he walked you back toward the paddock, rose in hand, hands brushing lightly, tension and anticipation lingering in the cool night air.

“so… next time… maybe we could do this again?” he asked, voice hopeful, almost vulnerable.

you grinned, teasing just enough to make him blush. “we'll see geo.."

george’s smile widened, a mix of relief and quiet triumph. tonight wasn’t about best man, competition, or chaos—it was about this, about the quiet, soft moments that made you feel like the only two people in the world.

pierre heard about the date, obviously, he heard it from carlos and alex when they were gossiping. he heard about the fancy silverware, the fancy food, so he wanted to do the opposite. a bit of a fun date.

the sound of tires crunching on the driveway made you peek out the window, and sure enough—pierre’s little hatchback was there, engine idling, the faint smell of leather and something sweet in the air. he jumped out before you could even reach the door, chocolate box still in hand, hair slightly windblown from the rush.

“hey!” he called, grinning like the whole world was about to explode into fun. “ready for… uh… the best valentine’s night ever?”

you laughed, sliding into the passenger seat as he jumped back in. the car smelled faintly of popcorn—probably from his own pre-date snack run—and you raised an eyebrow. “the best valentine’s night ever? that’s a bold claim, monsieur gasly.”

“oh, trust me,” he said, shoving the chocolate box into the cup holder, “i’ve got it all planned. first—we hit the racing games. i’m gonna destroy you, by the way. then… claw machines. pizza in between, maybe tickets for prizes, and finally—uh—mini-golf! i think they have it there."

you laughed so hard your stomach hurt. “mini-golf? in an arcade?”

“it’s… technically an arcade!” he said, waving his hands dramatically, voice full of mock indignation. “and it’s part of my master plan to impress you. okay? every step is calculated. well… mostly calculated.”

he glanced at you, grin softening, eyes gleaming. “and, uh… maybe some small moments for… you know… holding hands. if you want.”

you blinked, heart fluttering. “oh… i might.”

he laughed, brushing a hand through his hair, fingers grazing the top of the wheel. “good. very good. now… buckle up. this is gonna be… chaotic, but i promise fun. and i may… just may… win your heart tonight. maybe.”

the ride was filled with playful banter, teasing, and laughter. every stoplight became an opportunity for him to glance at you, his grin softening every time your eyes met. by the time the arcade lights appeared in the distance—neon signs glowing, music thumping faintly—your stomach was buzzing with excitement.

“see that?” pierre said, pointing like a child seeing a candy store for the first time. “that’s where the magic begins. tonight… it’s all about fun, games… and me impressing you, obviously.”

you laughed, tugging slightly at your seatbelt. “i have no doubt, pierre.”

he winked, hand brushing yours briefly across the console. “good. now… let’s start the chaos.”

after multiple rounds of racing games, claw machines, and pizza slices, you were walking toward the skee-ball machines, laughing at pierre’s exaggerated frustration over missing yet another throw.

“i swear, this game is rigged!” he exclaimed, wobbling slightly as he gestured dramatically.

you laughed, stepping a little too close to the edge of the slightly slick arcade floor—one misstep, and suddenly your foot slid. you yelped, arms flailing for balance.

before you even realized it, pierre’s hands were around your waist, steadying you. his chest pressed lightly against yours, eyes wide for half a second before that usual mischievous, flustered grin returned.

“attention, madame,” he said softly, leaning just close enough that you could feel his breath. his voice dropped low, smooth, intimate. “vous devez faire plus attention. je ne peux pas laisser tomber ma… trésor.”

your heart skipped a beat. “wait… what?” you breathed, cheeks heating as he gently steadied you, his hand lingering at your waist just a second longer than necessary.

“my… treasure,” he translated, smirking slightly, but his eyes held something softer, warmer, almost vulnerable. “you’re important… so don’t slip again, d’accord?”

you laughed nervously, brushing a hand over his. “d’accord… i’ll be careful. thanks.”

he just shook his head slightly, still grinning. “so… chaotic tonight, huh? racing, claw machines… almost losing you… perfect valentine’s night.”

you couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking your head. “you really do make everything dramatic, pierre.”

“and fun,” he added immediately, winking. “never forget fun. now… ready for skee-ball?”

every step after that felt lighter, and every glance from him was a little sharper, a little more charged. the slip, the catch, the soft french words—it lingered in your chest, fluttering like sparks in your veins, and you realized… pierre had a way of making chaos feel like something entirely, intoxicatingly romantic.

the morning sun bounced off the asphalt as you strolled through the paddock with lando and oscar, laughing over some ridiculous inside joke about tires and coffee. lando was in full “i’m-the-funniest-guy-on-the-grid” mode, and oscar was smirking, clearly entertained by both of you.

and then… out of nowhere, two shadows fell across your path.

george and pierre. together. both walking straight toward you, rose and chocolate box in hand, eyes locked on yours with that determined, slightly chaotic intensity that had made your heart race yesterday.

“hey…” george started, voice calm but strong, eyes flicking between you and pierre like he was daring him to move first.

you took a deep breath, heart hammering so hard it felt like the entire grid could hear it. yesterday’s fancy dinner, last night’s chaotic arcade, the accidental touches, the soft French words, the playful competitiveness—they all collided inside you.

and then, your gaze settled on george.

“george,” you whispered, voice trembling slightly, “i… i choose you.”

george froze for half a heartbeat, then a slow, stunned smile spread across his face. his eyes softened, warmth and relief flooding every inch of him. “really?” he asked quietly, like he was savoring every word.

you nodded, heart fluttering, cheeks burning. “really.”

pierre’s chest tightened. his lips pressed into a thin line. chocolate box clutched in his hands, his eyes glistened as if he was on the verge of tears. “oh,” he breathed, voice breaking slightly, “i… uh… okay…”

you reached out, gently touching pierre’s arm. “i… i’m so sorry, pierre. this isn’t… it’s not about you not being amazing. you’ve been incredible.”

he swallowed hard, looking away, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah… of course… i… i understand.”

george’s hand brushed yours, warm, grounding. “come on,” he murmured softly, voice low, tender. “let’s… go somewhere.”

he guided you through the paddock, past the garages and team trucks, until you reached the small paddock café. the smell of coffee and pastries, the quiet hum of conversation, and the soft glow of the morning sun made it feel… safe.

you let out a small, shaky laugh, leaning into george slightly as he led you to a table. “this feels… surreal,” you admitted, heart still racing.

george grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “it’s okay,” he whispered. “we’ll take it slow. just us. no chaos, no rivalry. just… tonight.”

you nodded, chest full, a soft warmth settling over you. the chaos of valentine’s day, the playful competition, the flustered touches, the stolen glances—all of it had led here. george’s hand held yours across the table, steady, sure, grounding you, and for the first time in days, your heart felt like it could finally breathe.

back across the paddock, pierre lingered by the edge, staring after you with the chocolate box still in hand. the edges of his eyes were wet, jaw tight. he wasn’t angry—just heartbroken, just human. "je suis un putain d'idiot."

good boy!

ᯓwho☆: ℒiam x reader (fluff) ᯓwhat☆: admin surprise-gifts him a video of you for his birthday, and then surprise-gifts him you! ᯓwc☆: 416 ᯓa/n☆:HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY MY KIWI

liam’s sitting in the paddock, still smiling from the birthday chaos, when admin slides a phone across the table.

“here,” admin says, grinning. “we got a little birthday surprise for you.”

"oh no… i've got a bad feeling already." liam picks it up, curious, and presses play. the screen lights up, and there you are, smiling, bright and teasing:

“hi liam, i’m sorry i can’t be with you for your birthday. happy birthday, my good boy. or… me and admin’s and vcarb's good boy! i love you so much, mi amor.”

liam freezes, eyes widening, cheeks pink. then he bursts out laughing. “wait… you got her to call me that too?” he says, pointing at admin, grinning like a kid caught in the best prank ever. "she's so cute…"

admin just smirks, hands up in innocent surrender, clearly loving this.

when liam giggles and rewatches the video over and over again, the vcarb staff around him and admin can’t hold back—there’s a chorus of laughter and a few “awws,”

“okay, okay, that’s enough!” he laughs, trying to hide behind the phone, but it’s useless—everyone’s watching, and he’s dying of embarrassment… and delight. "yeah i'm gonna stupid in love with her." he says with his cheeks pink.

"we have another surprise for you good boy. cause you know what's better than one birthday surprise?"

"two birthday surprises!" you exclaim and liam spins around so fast, eyes wide… and there you are, leaning in with that playful grin, and without thinking, he scoops you up into a hug, holding you tight like he’s afraid you might disappear.

“liam!” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck, your face pressed against his chest.

“you’re actually here! you're here!" he gasps between laughs, holding you closer, heart racing.

you giggle into his shoulder, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “happy birthday, good boy,” you whisper, voice soft and teasing.

liam shakes his head, laughter and disbelief mingling, mumbling into your neck, “i… i can’t believe this… you video… and now you’re here…”

the staff are still laughing and teasing in the background, some clapping, some still whispering “aww,” and someone even wolf-whistles, making liam’s ears go crimson but liam doesn’t care—he’s holding you, flustered, grinning like he’s never been happier. the paddock, the balloons, the confetti, the teasing—it all fades, he's forgotten about his birthday by now and only remembers you, him, and that dizzying, warm feeling of being completely, utterly yours, way better than any birthday party.

the past, the present, the future.

ᯓwho☆: 𝒱ernon x reader, 𝒟ino x reader, 𝒟okyeom x reader (angst, half fluff) ᯓwhat☆: 3 boys and 3 parts of your life, the past, the present, and the future. ᯓwc☆: 527 ᯓa/n☆: so like im back.... ciao...... and HAPPY BELATED BDAY TO MY FEB BOYSS

past – vernon

vernon was your first love, the one you never saw coming. he swept into your life like sunlight, like fire, and you fell so fast you forgot to breathe. every laugh, every touch, every stolen glance felt like it was only ever meant for you. but first love has a way of being reckless. you broke up because he was unpredictable, because he left as easily as he entered, because love with him felt like holding water in your hands—beautiful but impossible to keep. your heart ached when you left, and it ached even more when he walked away, leaving only shadows behind.

sometimes, late at night, you catch yourself remembering the way he looked at you, the sound of his laugh echoing in empty streets. vernon is gone, and yet not gone enough. he carved the first lines into your heart, the ones that made you ache, the ones that made you afraid love could ever be safe.

present – dino

then came dino. he was nothing like vernon—he was steady, patient, healing. he held you when the past tried to claw back in, whispered words that made the ache dull, made the scars feel like they might one day fade. you trusted him in ways you never thought you could again. love with him felt like safety, like finally being home.

but now… now it’s different. the cracks are forming, slowly, quietly, like shadows at the edges of a room. dino, the one who healed you from all heartbreak, is now slowly breaking your heart, bit by bit, in ways you didn’t know were possible. he’s distant sometimes, lost in thought, letting arguments linger longer than they should. and it terrifies you because you’ve seen this before—vernon left, and now dino is leaving marks in ways eerily similar. he doesn’t hurt you on purpose, but it still hurts, and you feel helpless, watching the boy who saved you from the past become the one who could break you in the present.

every time he falters, every time you fight, it’s a reminder: love can heal, but love can also betray, even the gentlest of hearts.

future – dokyeom

and then there’s dokyeom. you’re certain he’s your future. he’s always been there—silently, patiently—right after every fight you and dino had, right when your chest felt like it would collapse, right when you thought your heart couldn’t survive another heartbreak. he doesn’t push. he doesn’t demand. he simply holds the pieces of you together when you feel like you’re falling apart.

you don’t have to explain the scars, the past, the present, the messiness of it all—he sees it, and he stays. with him, love isn’t frightening. it isn’t fragile. it isn’t a slow unraveling. it’s steady, steady, steady—the kind of love you didn’t know you were searching for until he was there. the kind of love that makes all the chaos with vernon and dino feel like a prelude to something more real, more enduring, more yours.

you realize, finally, that the past was a lesson, the present a warning, and the future—dokyeom—is the home your heart has been aching for all along.

soo excited for this tate files event its such a good idea congrats!

CUT MY HAIR

ᯓwho☆: ℒando x reader (sabrina carpenter as face claim!) (fluff + lando AND carlos angst + bit of an smau) ᯓwhat☆: after a situationship falls apart and lando moves on, you cut your hair, start a new era, and make him realise that maybe he's always wanted you. ᯓwc☆: 1k (1471) ᯓa/n☆: FIRST REQ FOR THE TATE ARCHIVES RAAHHHH!!! this was so fun to write even tho it's a bit long!

the problem with a situationship is that it ends before it ever really begins.

there’s no anniversary to mourn, no official label to rip off, no clear moment where you can say this is where it went wrong. it just slowly decays. messages get shorter. calls get later. promises turn into maybes. and somehow, you’re the only one who feels like you’re losing something real.

the argument happens in his kitchen.

you’re sitting on the counter, legs swinging, watching him make coffee like he always does, like nothing’s changed. like he didn’t leave you on read for two days. like he didn’t cancel plans three times in a row. like you’re not quietly losing your mind.

“so what,” you finally say, “are we just… doing this forever?”

he pauses. just for a second. but you catch it. “doing what?”

this, you want to scream. whatever this is. the late nights. the mixed signals. the way he calls you when he’s lonely but never when he’s certain.

“us,” you say instead. “whatever we are.”

he exhales slowly, like he already knows where this is going. like he’s tired before the fight even starts. “i thought we agreed not to put pressure on it.”

you laugh, but it comes out wrong. brittle. “i didn’t agree to feel disposable.”

that’s when he looks at you. really looks at you. “you’re not disposable.”

“then what am i?”

he opens his mouth. closes it. rubs his face. “i don’t know,” he admits.

and that’s worse than any answer.

“you treat me like your girlfriend when it’s convenient,” you say, voice shaking now, “but the second i ask for anything real, you act like i’m asking for too much.”

“i never said that.”

“you don’t have to say it, lando. you show it.”

silence. thick. uncomfortable. the kind that means someone’s about to lose.

“we never said we were exclusive,” he finally says.

you nod slowly. “yeah. but you act like i am.”

that hits something. you see it in his eyes. the guilt. the confusion. the fact that he knows you’re right and still doesn’t want to change anything. “i don’t wanna lose you,” he says quietly. your chest aches. god, he always says the right thing at the wrong time.

“then stop keeping me in the in-between,” you whisper. “i can’t live there anymore.”

he doesn’t move. doesn’t come closer. doesn’t reach for you.

and somehow, that’s your answer.

you grab your bag. he watches you walk to the door like he’s hoping you’ll turn around, like this is just another dramatic moment you’ll laugh about later. you don’t.

A MONTH LATER

landonorris

heh @ magui_corceiro

Liked by magui_corceiro, maxfewtrell, and 752,953 others

View all 3,865 comments user1 Carlos and Fewtrell commenting like disappointed friends ↳ user95 they probably just sighed at their phone user2 She’s in her happy era omg Liked by yourusername and yourbf magui_corceiro ❤️ ↳ landonorris ❤️ user23 ik we're supposed to be hating rn but she is SOOO PRETTY user15 HELLOOO?? WHERE DID Y/N GOOOO?? user13 LANDO? You made the LandoYn ship sink?!?!?! user58 she cheated on her ex bf 3 times btw. ↳ user34 its a rumour and not true btw. maxfewtrell Oh mate.... ↳ user9 max gets us user5 NO Y/N COMMENT OR LIKE. WE'VE REALLY LOST LANDOYN HAVENT WE... ↳ user4 If she doesn't I WILL cry. carlossainz55 Hermano.... ↳ user6 CARLOS BEING MAD TOO IM CRYIN

CARLOS’S MESSAGES WITH YOU

your feet move before you and somehow you end up telling your stylist everything as he takes scissors and asks you are you sure one last time.

it feels strangely calm. controlled. like this isn’t about falling apart, it’s about deciding who you want to be seen as next. when you leave, your hair is shorter. softer. different in a way that makes your reflection look unfamiliar — but powerful.

A WEEK LATER CARLOS'S MESSAGES WITH YOU

the party's on a friday night. you almost don’t go, almost stay home in pajamas with your phone face down, almost reject carlos but even though you hated lando, you could never say no to carlos.

so you do your makeup slowly. carefully. you look at yourself in the mirror and think: whatever she do, i can do it better.

when carlos picks you up, he's stunned seeing your short hair but he smiles, "wow hermosa, looking good, i knew that black dress would go well with the short hair. killer combo!" you laugh, "well thank you smooth operator. lets get going shall we?" yourusername

part-aaayyy

Liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, and 252,103 others

View all 1,109 comments user1 the way carlos is looking at her oh my god im sick. user2 SHE CUT HER HAIR OH MY GOD user54 Yes show Lando you've moved on from whatever the helly you guys were!!!!!!!! yourfriend you're so pretty i just wanna😝 Liked by yourusername carlossainz55 Told you short hair would still look good on you Hermosa ↳ yourusername ooookkkaaayy... ↳ user13 HE. CALLS. HER. HERMOSA. ↳ user85 IM TELLING YOU ITS BEEN CARLOSYN ALL ALONGGG lilyzneimer marry me please ↳ yourusername when's the wedding baby alex_albon Pls stop stealing my girlfriend and my cat's love and attention ↳ yourusername i think you're just a hater! user29 Can we focus on how in love Carlos looks?? Not even looking at the phone he's looking BEHIND the phone at Y/n... lilymhe MOMMYYYYYYY Liked by yourusername ↳ user9 My two favs stop user5 i heard a rumour lando's at this party too!! ↳ user4 what now.

the party is already too loud when you arrive. music too bass-heavy, lights too low, everyone already half-tipsy and pretending they’re not looking for someone.

you scan the room out of habit, and then you see him. he’s by the bar, laughing at something someone says — and she’s there too. the girl from the stories. soft curls, hand on his arm, exactly how you imagined her.

your stomach twists. but then he looks up, and his eyes find yours.

the change is instant.

it’s like someone muted the room around him. his smile fades. his body goes still. you watch him take you in — the hair, the dress, the confidence you’re wearing like armor. he definitely did not expect this.

you hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary. then you turn away.

you don’t avoid him. you just… don’t go to him. you laugh with your friends, accept drinks, dance like you’re not acutely aware of every place he is in the room. you let people look at you. you let yourself be wanted. and you know he’s watching.

because you can feel it.

you’re halfway through a drink when you feel it — the presence behind you, familiar enough that your body reacts before your brain does.

“you blocked me.”

you turn.

he’s standing there, a little breathless, like he crossed the entire room just to say that. his eyes are fixed on your hair, your face, your dress.

“yeah,” you say calmly. “i did.”

“why?”

you shrug. “needed peace.”

he huffs a small laugh, not amused. “you could’ve just told me you were cutting me off.”

you tilt your head. “i did. you just didn’t notice.”

that one stings. you see it in his face.

there’s a pause. the music fills the space between you. the new girl is still across the room, laughing with someone else, but he’s not looking at her. he’s only looking at you.

“you look…” he starts, then stops.

“different?” you offer.

“yeah,” he admits. “but in a good way.”

you smile. soft. dangerous. “thanks. i didn’t do it for you.”

he nods slowly, like he believes you. like he knows that’s the worst part.

“i didn’t know you cut your hair,” he says quietly.

“that’s kind of the point.”

there’s another silence, but it’s not as sharp as before. it’s full. heavy with things you never finished saying.

“i saw you tonight and i thought i was hallucinating,” he confesses. “i was like… no way she looks like that and didn’t tell me.”

“you lost access,” you reply gently.

he swallows.

“i messed up,” he says.

you blink. you didn’t expect that. not so easily. not so honestly.

“i didn’t realise what i had until i saw you again,” he continues. “and you looked like you didn’t need me anymore.”

your chest aches.

“maybe i don’t,” you say.

“yeah,” he says. “but i still want you.”

you look at him then. really look at him. the boy who kept you in the in-between. the boy who didn’t choose you until he almost lost you.

“what about her?” you ask softly.

he glances over his shoulder. then back at you.

“i’m gonna be honest,” he says. “she’s great. but she’s not you.”

you exhale slowly.

“that’s not a compliment,” you say. “that’s just timing.”

he steps closer, careful. like you might disappear.

“i’m not asking you to go back to how it was,” he says. “i’m asking if we can try… properly. no in-between. no guessing.”

you search his face for a lie.

you don’t find one.

“you had your chance,” you say.

he nods. “i know. i’m asking for another.”

there’s a beat.

then you sigh, the tension leaving your shoulders.

“you’re really lucky i still care,” you murmur.

his lips curve into that familiar soft smile. the one that used to undo you.

“i know,” he says. “trust me, i know.”

he reaches out — not to pull you in, not to rush anything — just to gently tuck a strand of your new hair behind your ear.

“your hair’s really cute,” he adds. you roll your eyes. “don’t get comfortable." he laughs, quiet and relieved. “never.” you don’t kiss him that night. but you leave together. and for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a situationship.

it feels like a choice, and this time — he’s finally choosing you.

bonus:

life update with lala ;

i took a small break from tumblr and i missed youuu! i have writers block unfortunately. i have sooo many ideas but i can’t seem to write them 😔. i miss posting for f1 🥲. anywaysss love you lots 🧡.

me recently ^

hello mi amor! i've been doing very well <3 i love ur lil life updates hehe - I MISSED U TOO!! felt odd not to see piastridreams on my feed!! omg plsss yap abt ur ideas and i miss seeing ur posts abt f1 🥹🥹 i love u so much too!! ill be in ur inbox shortly mwheheheh.

THE TATE ARCHIVES. THE FILES. (masterlist)

File 1. SO CLOSE TO WHAT??? (deluxe)

TRYING ON SHOES ANYTHING BUT LOVE NOBODY'S GIRL HORSESHOE

File 2. So Close To What

Miss possessive Revolving door bloodonmyhands (feat. Flo Milli) Dear god Purple lace bra Sports car Signs I know love (feat. The Kid LAROI) Like I do It's ok I'm ok No I'm not in love - oscar's entry! Means I care Greenlight 2 hands Siren sounds Nostalgia

File 3. THINK LATER

cut my hair - lando's entry! greedy run for the hills hurt my feelings grave stay done exes we're not alike calgary messier think later guilty conscience want that too plastic palm trees

File 4. i used to think i could fly

? don't come back i'm so gone what would you do? chaotic hate myself what's your problem? she's all i wanna be boy x you're so cool feel like shit go away i still say goodnight

File 5. TOO YOUNG TO BE SAD

bad ones rubberband slower r u ok you broke me first wish i loved you in the 90s

File 6. all the things i never said

stupid all my friends are fake that way tear myself apart happy face

File 7. other songs

vicious uh oh 10:35 etc!

THE TATE ARCHIVES.

@oscrp81stri's event <3 i was actually supposed to do a valentine's day event but it's only 4 days away and this idea came to me instead!

Inside the archives:

inside the archives are files of tate mcrae's albums with the songs inside that album that you — yes, you — will be sending to me, paired with any f1 driver or k-pop idol of your choice. every request becomes its own file, and the entries of the file turns into a fic inspired by the song you picked.

How long will the files stay open?

from feb 12 to march 23 — after that, The Tate Archives will be closed.

Where are the files?

all the files are right here.

Who's inside the archives?

f1: max verstappen, isack hadjar, george russell, kimi antonelli, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, lando norris, oscar piastri, arvid lindblad, liam lawson, esteban ocon, oliver bearman, gabriel bortoleto, pierre gasly, alex albon, carlos sainz. other drivers: jenson button, nico rosberg, zhou guanyu, yuki tsunoda, logan sargeant, sebastian vettel, pepe marti, dino beganovic, rafael camara. kpop: seventeen, xdinary heroes, p1harmony, skz, etc. (please check with me first to see if i am able to write the person you want)

To create a new entry:

request a fic, drabble, smau + any genre (fluff, angst, smut, etc) in my inbox! once an entry is written for, you cannot request it again.

CAUGHT STARING

ᯓwho☆: 𝒦imi x reader (fluff, a BIT suggestive x drabble)  ᯓwhat☆: you keep going to the gym with kimi under the excuse of “support,” but end up repeatedly caught staring at him in the mirrors instead. ᯓwc☆: 794 ᯓa/n☆: I'MMM BACKKK WITH MY FELLOW ITALIAN BOY FIC. also. anon, i had no idea if u were saying 'i want smut basically' when you said "and the rest you know hehe..." but if u did, i will rewrite another version so just pop into da inbox and go ahead!

the worst part was that kimi never said anything.

not a single comment. not a joke. not even a look that outright called you out. he just let it happen, like he didn’t notice at all, like you weren’t sitting ten feet away pretending to be deeply invested in your phone while very obviously watching him lift.

and somehow, that made it so much worse.

you told yourself it was harmless.

you were just there for company. for motivation. for the vibes. people went to the gym together all the time, right? this was normal. you were being normal.

it wasn’t your fault that he always trained in front of the mirrors now. it wasn’t your fault that he started wearing sleeveless tops more often, or that his hoodies somehow always came off halfway through the session.

none of this was intentional. probably.

you sat on the same bench that you would always sit on, water bottle in one hand, phone in the other, posture carefully casual. you’d scroll, pause, look up. scroll again. look up again.

your eyes betrayed you every-fucking-time.

kimi moved differently when he trained. more focused. more quiet. his expression serious in a way you didn’t usually see. his jaw would tense when he lifted, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted just a little when he exhaled.

and his arms—yeah. those were the real problem.

you tried not to stare. you really did. but your brain kept short-circuiting every time his muscles flexed, every time he rolled his sleeves up without thinking, every time he stretched between sets like he had all the time in the world.

you’d look away, flustered. then look back. and kimi never once turned around to catch you.

but you started noticing little things.

the way he positioned himself just right in front of the mirror. the way he slowed his movements, controlled and deliberate, like he was suddenly very aware of how he looked. the way he’d add an extra rep at the end of a set, just to hold the flex a second longer.

for no reason. absolutely no reason at all.

sometimes, when you weren’t paying attention, you’d feel it. that subtle shift in the air. that feeling of being watched.

you’d glance up and see it in the mirror.

his eyes.

already on you.

he never smiled. never smirked. just held your gaze calmly while finishing his rep, arm flexed, shoulders tense, completely unbothered. and then he’d look away first. like he’d won something.

your heart would start racing for absolutely no logical reason. your face would feel warm. you’d suddenly become very aware of your own body, your own breathing, the fact that you were sitting there doing absolutely nothing while he looked like that.

and still, he said absolutely nothing.

it got worse over time.

he started taking longer breaks near you, standing just close enough that you could smell his cologne mixed with sweat. close enough that you had to tilt your head slightly to look up at him.

sometimes he’d stretch right beside you, hands behind his head, shirt lifting just enough for your eyes to betray you again.

sometimes he’d wipe sweat off his arm and flex without thinking.

except.

you were pretty sure he was thinking.

because every time you reacted — every time you swallowed, every time you looked away too fast, every time your grip tightened around your bottle — the corner of his mouth would lift.

just barely. a ghost of a smile.

one afternoon, you were particularly gone. fully staring, not even pretending anymore. your phone had been forgotten on your lap, screen dark, mind empty.

kimi finished his set and reached for his water, and flexed. slowly and deliberately. like he was moving through honey.

you inhaled too sharply and immediately hated yourself for it.

he finally looked at you properly then, not teasing. not obvious, just calm. knowing. warm eyes holding yours for a second too long. he took a sip, still looking at you.

you looked away first, heart in your throat, cheeks burning, pretending to be suddenly very interested in literally anything else. and behind you, completely aware, completely smug in the quietest, most dangerous way possible, kimi smiled to himself and went back to training.

like he hadn’t just absolutely ruined your ability to function for the rest of the day.

you told yourself you’d stop staring. you really did, and then five minutes later you were staring again.

not glancing.

not sneaking looks.

just openly, helplessly staring at the way his arms flexed when he lifted, at the way his reflection lined up perfectly with yours in the mirror.

you wondered how many times he’d caught you like this, without saying a word.

you wondered if he was counting. (he definitely was.)

hello anon !! i would LOVE to make a pt2 for sk8er boy!jeonghan, zonttt get me wronggg BUT i have absolutely no ideas on how to write the part 2...🥲 maybe if you could give me some suggestions—i would be able to try & write it!

life update : i’m currently about to be in the middle of a bad winter storm 😀 i’m going to start prepping later tonight . anywaysssss i reaalllly want a tattoo , but i need to save up 😞 that’s it just wanted to fill you in!

my two moods right now :

see you later , love youuuu 🧡🧡🧡🧡

WSSPPP AMORE!! all is kinda well <3 omg snow, make sure to bury yourself with blankets and some hot choco with a cute lil marshmallow to top it off! maybe netflix n chill? wait i just realised you said storm. that sounds genuinely scary omg—please make sure you stay safe and warm during the storm. i hope it passes quickly and without any damage 😭!!

and YESSS a tattoo??? even if you have to save up, it’s gonna be so worth it when you finally get it. future you is gonna look at it and be like “yeah, that WAS the moment.” waht design are you going for ?! (those moods r so me LOL) love u too babes!! popping in ur inbox soon just you wait!!