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caxyanalysis · 2 years ago

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The Rise and Fall of "Skill-Based Matchmaking" in Games

There's a term in gaming. All kinds of gaming. Sports, board games, video games. It's a concept that's been around as long as games have had a competitive side to them. The term itself may not have been around that long, but the concept of it has been. It's always been there, even if this specific word wasn't used since the beginning. That term is...

Matchmaking

Matchmaking is the process of deciding an opponent. It can be done manually by the players of the game, or it can be done automatically by some third party force. But it must be done, or the game can't be played.

Matchmaking can be anything from a tournament ladder to a privately issued challenge to a roll of the dice as to who gets to face off against who.

In the modern age, with the rise of digital gaming and competitive video games, matchmaking has come to be known most commonly by two variants, described below.

Connection-Based Matchmaking

CBMM or Connection-Based Matchmaking is a variant of Matchmaking wherein the quality of network connection is prioritized when deciding who you'll face in a game. In a CBMM system, you'll be matched with players as close to your local network as possible, to reduce latency and other network-related issues.

The benefits of this system are that players will never have to worry about lagging to the point of being unable to play, or any player lagging in such a way that it's an unfair advantage. CBMM reduces the network struggles, and allows for players of all skill levels to come together to play the game in the same environment.

The downsides of this system are that players who are within the upper echelons of skill often wind up making the game unfair or unfun for those of lower skill. Because there is no safeguard preventing masters, experienced players, and "sweats" (term refers to those who treat every match, even casual matches, as if they are competing for a million dollar prize) from being matched against brand new, casual, and unskilled players, those of lower skill often suffer in "curb stomps", which are matches where one team or one player so far outplays the other team or player that the outcome is clear and unavoidable within the first minute or so.

Skill-Based Matchmaking

SBMM or Skill-Based Matchmaking is a variant of Matchmaking wherein the ability of the players is prioritized when deciding who you'll face in a game. In a SBMM system, you'll be matched with players as close to your determined skill level as possible to reduce the amount of unfair or one-sided games.

The benefits of this system are that low-skill, brand new, or casual players never need to worry about "curb stomps", or facing off against "sweats". They can enjoy matches within their skill level, and will have a fair, fun time against people who have equal chance to win or lose, all depending on how each team plays rather than depending on which team was assigned more "sweats".

The downsides of this system are that the upper echelons of players, the "sweats", begin struggling to find entertaining matches after a time. SBMM introduces a system where high-skill players can only match other high-skill players, and so eventually the top 1% will stop being able to connect to anyone except the top 0.5%, and the top 0.5% will eventually stop being able to connect to anyone except the top 0.1%, and so on. This system heavily benefits skill improvement, until that improvement reaches a pinnacle point where the only matches you get are against the same set of people, every time, until every game is a boring replay of the last.

But there is a third variant, which has sub-variants of its own. Which is...

Hybrid Matchmaking

HMM or Hybrid Matchmaking is when the game considers both skill level AND connection. This system combines the strengths of BOTH other variants, but execution is everything.

In one sub-variant of HMM, we have CBHMM, which prioritizes connection, but will allocate players in such a way that once connection has been determined, you will be matched with the player or players closest in skill to you.

In another, we have SBHMM, which prioritizes skill, but will also seek players with good connection so that you don't wind up facing the same exact people every single time.

And in yet another variant we have THMM, or True Hybrid Matchmaking, which usually involves a skill tier rather than a skill rating, like the common Silver 1, 2, and 3, Bronze 1, 2, and 3, etc, instead of the ratings like "1500 ELO" or "2300 ELO", etc.

THMM will assign players a skill tier to determine the pool of players they are able to match with, and then prioritize connection within that pool of players. This combines the greatest strength of CBMM (shortest possible wait time to find a match) with the greatest strength of SBMM (not facing off against opponents you can't beat).

To go over some real examples, let's cover some games that use these systems. I'll stick to games I am familiar with to avoid any misinformation.

Destiny 2

In Destiny 2, the type of Matchmaking is determined by the mode you play. In Competitive, it's SBMM, but with the tier system of THMM. More on that in a moment. In Quickplay, it's CBMM, with a tier system used for reward progression rather than any SBMM purposes. In Trials, the ultimate competitive PvP experience in D2, it's a very unorthodox form of Hybrid Matchmaking.

Comp SBMM in D2 functions like this: You have a skill tier (Bronze, Silver, etc), and the game assigns a point total you must reach to move up to the next tier. You earn points based on wins, and lose points based on losses. This system has one major flaw. In Comp, you have 2 teammates that can win for you.

This means that even if you personally are standing in spawn dancing, you can still hit the maximum possible rank with the right teammates. Personal performance means nothing, only the outcome of the match.

Quickplay being CBMM is problematic, as the fact it's quickplay (which is designed to be the "casual" play mode) is lost on a notable amount of players. The "sweats" run rampant in quickplay, actively reducing the amount of fun players can have in what is designed to be the "for fun" PvP mode. If it were one or two sweats, it would be fine, but entire squads of them (3-6 players working together) will queue into a match and, while the game tries to match squads to other squads, it does not change the fact that casuals ALSO squad up, and a team of 3 sweats will still perform significantly better than a squad of 6 casuals. CBMM in the "for fun" mode means no safety for casual players to simply load up to play for the fun of it, and forces everyone into a highly competitive environment even in the "casual" mode.

Trials is a unique system. Trials of Osiris bears a mixture of SBMM and CBMM, making it Hybrid Matchmaking, but of a strange sort. In Trials, you have a "Trials Card", which tracks your wins, up to 7, as well as whether or not those wins are "Flawless", a term used here to mean "consecutive". Players with 7 consecutive wins are considered Flawless players for the sake of matchmaking. Trials considers the following, in this order, when considering how to match you to other players: Flawless (yes or no), Win Count, Connection, Skill Tier. By this system, it should first check for Flawless status (no losses recorded on the card) followed by how many wins are recorded, filter out poor connection players, then find players in your skill tier within that filtered pool. Starting on Sunday of every week, it first checks to see if YOU are a Flawless player first, and if you are, it applies a hidden "Flawless" tag to you, preventing you from matching with anyone that does not have this Flawless tag. Once the game has set your pool (Flawless, not Flawless), it seeks out players who have the same number of wins on their Trials Card. However, because the Card only tracks up to 7, and because you can reset your card, a player can reach 6 wins, reset, and be treated as having 0 wins. This means a player can "farm" easy wins by simply resetting at 6 wins every time without going Flawless (7 consecutive wins), meaning they remain outside of the Flawless pool and continually match against players with 0 recorded wins. Once the game has set the pool of players based on Card-Recorded Win Count, it seeks out players within that pool that have a solid connection quality. This means you will be matched against players with similar win-counts that have solid connection. After that it finally considers Skill Tier, putting you against the closest possible skill tier. This is a huge problem, as Skill being considered last means BOTH of the following can happen:

Player A queues up while Player B is waiting in queue. A is Skill Tier 6 while B is Skill Tier 1. A has a 15% winrate while B has a 98% winrate, despite both having over 1,000 matches played. A has 0 wins recorded, 0 losses, as they are just now playing for the first time. B has 0 wins recorded, 0 losses, as they just reset their card for the 9th time today after reaching 6 consecutive wins for the 9th time today. Neither A nor B are Flawless, so both are in the Non-Flawless Pool. A and B each have 0 wins, 0 losses recorded, so both are in the 0/0 Pool. A and B have strong connection, and so the matchmaking filters them into the same pool. The two players closest to A in Skill Tier are in Tier 5, the two closest to B are in Tier 2, and are the only other players within the filtered pool. A is now matched with 2 Tier 5 players, 2 Tier 2 players, and 1 Tier 1 player, making them the lowest Tier player in the lobby, and making B the highest Tier player in the lobby. D2 has a "Lobby Balancing feature" which tries to balance skill levels among teams. This causes the game to be a team consisting of either the highest AND lowest Tier players accompanied by one of the Tier 2s or 5s, OR a team consisting of the lowest player accompanied by the two Tier 2s opposing a team consisting of the highest player accompanied by the two Tier 5s. Both of these result in a curb stomp, as one team lacks the ability to overcome the odds against them. This system is heavily flawed, as the priority of filters and the fact that they are not SOLID filters means that while matches are often found quickly, they are often OVER just as quickly due to unfair balancing of teams and an imbalance in the skill of players matched.

Fortnite

Fortnite, casual, is simple CBMM. Regardless of mode, it is pure CBMM with one caveat. It is CBMM within the selected region. This means if you live in the USA and set the UK as your region, it will match you with the players that have the strongest connection to you that are also on the UK region, even though you live in the USA. This means you will usually have a good connection, but is very easy to cheat connections to give yourself some level of intentional latency by playing on a region you have inherently poor connection to.

However, the Ranked mode does have SBMM, of sorts. Ranked mode SBMM is determined entirely by the placement you reach in your matches. If you win a match and get 1st place, you will be matched with other 1st place players. Over time, it averages out your placements, and will put you in matches with players that have similar placement averages. So if you play 1,000 matches and your average placement is 43rd place, you will be matched with other players who have ~43rd place as their average. However, if you play 1,000 matches and your average placement is 2nd place, you'll be matched with other players who have ~2nd place averages. This is a problem due to the fact that one can reach as high as 15th, 10th, or even 2nd place doing absolutely nothing at all except moving from hiding spot to hiding spot and waiting for other players to kill each other. Meaning if you're a cautious player, you can achieve the higher skill tiers by simply not engaging, even if you die the moment you do encounter another player. To rephrase that... You can get an average placement of 2nd place, and maintain that average (thereby maintaining that "skill level"), without ever getting a single kill. This poses the problem of being able to "cheat" the SBMM system. Players with no business being in the upper echelons can be matched with the highest skill players simply due to luck, which can be a massive problem for those who don't WANT to reach unearned "skill levels".

DNF Duel

DNF Duel uses a SBMM system which accounts for player preferences for their ranked mode. When queueing for Ranked, the game first considers player preference, then Skill Tier (Which are Bronze 1-4, Silver 1-4, Gold 1-4, etc), and you can choose "Any Skill", "Similar Skill", or "Same Skill" for player preference.

However, this is not entirely accurate. "Any Skill" allows the player to be matched with ANYONE of any Skill Level. This of course IS accurate, but the others are less clear.

"Similar Skill" does not mean "Same Class, different Tier". Similar Skill sounds like it would allow anyone Bronze 1-4 to match against anyone else Bronze 1-4. This is not the case. It means "Within 1 Class of each other", meaning anyone at all ranked Bronze 1-4 can match with anyone at all ranked Silver 1-4. This poses a problem. In order to reach Bronze 4, you must win 4 matches in Bronze 1, 4 in Bronze 2, and 4 in Bronze 3. This means you need to win 12 matches in order to reach Bronze 4. Once you're at Bronze 4, you need to win 3 out of 5 Advancement Matches to hit Silver 1, which takes 12 more wins to reach Silver 4.

This means, at minimum, Similar Skill allows you to face off against an opponent with 0 victories, and at maximum you can face off against an opponent with a difference of 38 victories between you. That doesn't sound like a lot, but remember: Every victory, and every loss, is experience. At 38 more wins than your opponent, you have not only the full experience of 38 victories, but all the experience of the losses, the practice, the hours put in between those victories. At 38 less wins than your opponent, you have drastically less experience than your opponent.

And finally, we have "Same Skill". "Same Skill" sounds like it would pit you against the same Class and Tier. Bronze 1 vs Bronze 1. Bronze 2 vs Bronze 2. This is not the case. "Same Skill" pits you against anyone in your Class. Bronze 1-4 vs Bronze 1-4. Silver 1-4 vs Silver 1-4.

This means, at minimum, you face an opponent with 0 victories, and at maximum, an opponent with 16 more victories than you. That is still a significant amount of experience difference. What this means is that a brand new player who is only now playing Ranked for the very first time, rather than being matched with a player in Bronze 1 like they are will instead be matched with a player anywhere between Bronze 1 to Bronze 4.

EDIT: Easier than re-writing the entire section above, I've gained a new understanding of DNF Duel's ranking system. You need CONSECUTIVE wins in order to rank up. I just matched with someone, I had 2 medals out of the needed amount to rank up, lost, and my medals disappeared. It's worth noting my opponent had 48 battles fought with 6 of those being wins, while I had 14 battles fought with 3 of those being wins.

Why is all of this important?

Skill-Based Matchmaking...does not exist. In every variant of SBMM, your actual personal skill level is not used to determine opponents.

In Destiny 2, all that matters is your wins and losses. Even if you get 0 kills, 0 assists, and a dozen deaths, as long as your matches end in victory for your team. This means players with no business being in Platinum can obtain Platinum, resulting in their solo-queue matches being nightmarishly hard for them, as they are unable to compete at all and not only lose their own fun, but ruin their teammates fun as they now have to work much harder to make up for the lack of a skilled player on their team.

In Fortnite, if you get lucky every game you can reach top rank without getting a single kill, which means you'll eventually have to rely ENTIRELY on luck and hiding just to maintain survival. You'll eventually be unable to win at all.

In DNF Duel, you can play for weeks without ever getting a win due to being consistently matched with players VASTLY more experienced than you.

And why?

Because none of these systems actually take your performance into account.

In Destiny 2, SBMM would be considering your wins, losses, average K/D, average damage dealt, average assists, and weapon accuracy in order to compile all of them into a singular Skill stat (all of which are already tracked, btw, and could easily be factored into an equation to determine Individual Skill Level). For example:

Player A has 100 wins, 50 losses, an avg. K/D of 1.3, avg. damage dealt (per game) of 900, avg. assists of 2 per game, and an avg. weapon accuracy of 68%. We can use these numbers to determine they have an Individual Skill Level of

How? Here's how:

Guardians have 200HP, and at 900 damage per game, we can determine Player A gets on avg. 4.5 kills per game. With a K/D of 1.3, they kill 1.3 times as many times as they die. So 4.5 kills per game, 3.4 avg. deaths per game.

100 wins, 50 losses, 4.5 kills per game, 3.4 deaths per game, 2 assists per game, 68% accuracy.

150 matches total, 4.5 kills per match, so that's 675 kills total. 675 kills, with an avg. of 3.4 deaths per game, that's 510 deaths. 675 kills, 510 deaths. Even with a simple equation of match total divided by win-rate times (K/D times dmg per game) divided by accuracy would give us SOME value we can use.

150 / 66.66 (1.3 x 900) / 68 150 / 66.66 x 1,170 / 68 2.25 x 1,170 / 68 2,632 / 68 38

We could even go a step further and, instead of rounding to nearest whole numbers aside from the win-rate, include up to 2 decimal places and add in a "x 100" at the end to get something like this:

150 / 66.66 (1.3 x 900) / 68 x 100 150 / 66.66 x 1,170 / 68 x 100 2.25 x 1,170 / 68 x 100 2,632.50 / 68 x 100 38.71 x 100 3,871.

This gives us an estimate of a player's Individual Skill Level, and this is just an off-the-top-of-my-head idea for how to calculate it.

With this, we could establish a SBMM system in D2 that operates on this value, with a player only being able to be put into games with those falling within a short range (say ~50-100 points) of their own rating. With this system it would guarantee NO player is ever in a match with anyone greater than 100 points of skill higher than the lowest skilled player in the lobby.

This ensures the highest-skill player in the lobby isn't SO much higher that the lowest-skill player has no chance, and everyone falling in between them is on relatively equal footing.

Unfortunately, D2, which already tracks and maintains accurate statistics on all of the things used in that formula, would rather simply track match wins and use that to determine how "skilled" a player is.

And Fortnite? What of that?

Well, Fortnite already tracks the following: Placement at end of match, accuracy, kills, assists, dmg dealt.

So what could be done is another simple equation like above. Maybe...

A player who has played 370 matches with an average placement of 8th place, average kill count of 6 per game, average assist count of 4 per game, an average of 1,375 damage per game, and an average accuracy of 72%.

So that's 370 matches, avg. placement 8th, avg. 6 kills per game, avg. assists 4 per game, avg. 1,375 dmg per game, avg. accuracy 72%.

((370 x 8 / (6 x 4) + 1,375)) x 0.72 ((370 x 8 / 24) + 1,375) x 0.72 ((2,960 / 24) + 1,375) x 0.72 (123.33 + 1,375) x 0.72 1,498.33 x 0.72 1,078.79 Round to nearest whole number 1,079 This gives us a skill rating we can use to get SOME level of accuracy (far better than just "how high did you place?") as to how skilled a player is, and if we only allow them to matchmake against players within 100 points of their skill rating, it maintains fairness.

DNF Duel is a little trickier, but still doable.

Avg. Match Time (not currently tracked but would be incredibly easy to given all matches in Ranked have a set time limit, and one can find match time by subtracting time remaining from max time), avg. HP remaining (Also easy to track), winrate (easy to track), and total matches, combining those into a skill stat.

Say someone has Avg. Match Time of 45 seconds, avg 23% HP remaining, a 37% winrate, with 78 matches total.

(45 x 0.23) x (0.37 x 78) x 10 10.35 x (0.37 x 78) x 10 10.35 x 28.86 x 10 298.70 x 10 2,987

Only allow them to match with people that are within 100-150 points of them. This prevents players with too great a difference in stats from connecting to each other. No more instances of someone with several dozen more matches than you, and therefore far more experience, facing off against you. No more instances of you getting matched against someone with several dozen less matches than you either.

Why does it matter?

Because games are supposed to be fun, and competitive modes are supposed to be fair. There should never be an instance in competitive modes on any game where one player has absolutely zero chance of beating the enemy, and in the current systems so many games use, that exact thing happens far too often.

Comp should never be an easy win, but it should never be an impossible fight either. And the fact games have moved away from accurately tracking individual skill, and have never implemented a system for truly fair SBMM is a travesty.

The systems I presented are not perfect. But they were done in several minutes by a single person with very little effort, and are still more fair evaluations of skill than what most games use today.

A team of dozens of people who are supposedly professionals in the field, paid hundreds to design matchmaking systems and given months to come up with a working one should never come up with something so much worse than what I, a single person with no noteworthy mathematic skill, paid nothing, could come up with in minutes.

Matchmaking has never been perfect, but in recent years the idea of "everyone is a winner~!" has gone from "everyone has a chance to win in comp because we pit you against closely skilled players" to "everyone has a chance to see the high-tier play because we match you with players based on unfair criteria so you can experience high-end comp even if you haven't gotten that good"

Including lower-skill players in high-skill play is not how comp is supposed to work, in any game, and it only punishes the lower-skill players.

And that honestly just makes me sad, because players like me who know exactly where we lie (just above casual, but just below the lowest skilled sweats in my case) are suffering most by being forced into boring matches with no challenge when we're matched with casuals, but forced into infuriating and unfair matches when we're matched with sweats.

I can only imagine how the casuals feel when paired against sweats.

#analysis #long post #sbmm #cbmm #hmm #matchmaking #video games #gaming #competitive games

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readerviews · 2 years ago

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"The Royal Matchmaking Competition: The Fate of the Empire" by Zoiy Galloay

YA Romance at its Best #books #bookreview #reading #readerviews

The Royal Matchmaking Competition: The Fate of the Empire Zoiy GalloayIndependently Published (2023)ISBN: 978-1958996072Reviewed by Tammy Ruggles for (09/2023) “The Royal Matchmaking Competition: The Fate of the Empire” by Zoiy Galloay, is what light fantasy romance is all about. Welcome to good clean fun with a sense of humor. If you enjoy dating competition TV shows like “The Bachelor” or…

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#Book Review #Reader Views #The Fate of the Empire #The Royal Matchmaking Competition #Zoiy G. Galloay

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kwilquib · 1 month ago

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Red String: Tangled

Word Count 4.6k

Liz - I’ve (🐈‍⬛) x Yeji - Itzy (🐈) x MReader 📖

a/n: i was going to post this after the part 4 of promised 9, but it might take a while so i decided to post this one first instead.

The coffee table was already a battlefield of indulgence—half-eaten strawberries bled onto napkins, the rim of a cake sagged from being sliced unevenly, and the growing graveyard of empty bottles clinked whenever someone shifted. Warm, golden light from a lone floor lamp softened the chaos, casting shadows that swayed gently across the walls.

You were sunk deep into the couch, the alcohol dulling your senses into something languid and warm. Liz, draped against your side like a sleepy cat, had long stopped sipping her wine and started murmuring nonsense into your shoulder. Her fingers loosely hooked around your arm, her hair tickling your jaw with her every breath.

On the floor, back resting against the couch, Yeji nursed the last of her only bottle for the night, as she stared at the flickering candlelight.

“Shall we call it a night?” you asked low.

Yeji looked up at you, then sideways at Liz nestled against you. A short scoff escaped her lips, sharp but not exactly hostile.

You shifted carefully, slowly prying your arm free from Liz’s hold. She mumbles a trifling protest in her sleep but doesn't wake as you lay her down gently across the couch, sliding a pillow to rest her head.

“She didn’t last,” she muttered, with just enough bite for her meaning to latch.

You smirked despite yourself. The tension between them was unspoken but undeniable—at least on Yeji’s part. Liz floated through the days with effortless charm, never rising to Yeji’s jabs, while Yeji simmered, her competitive nature flaring in little comments, lingering glances, subtle one-ups.

“She had more than you,” you said, lightly teasing. “You were sneaking her your shots.”

Yeji raised her chin defiantly. “Not my fault she’s that susceptible.”

“She’s gonna be hungover and dramatic tomorrow.”

“She’s always dramatic.”

Chuckling for a moment, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just… quiet. Safe. The night had dulled at the edges, the candle’s aroma roamed the space, soft and warm, the alcohol warming your veins. But Yeji’s gaze lingered now—longer, steadier. You noticed.

“So…” you started, tilting your head toward her. “You really don’t like losing to her, huh?”

Yeji didn’t answer immediately. She stepped closer. Then another step. Before you realized it, she was standing directly in front of you, her expression unreadable, but her eyes holding yours without flinching.

“You’re always trying to one-up her,” you said, gentler this time. “Like you’re in some kind of race.”

“I’m not competing,” she shot back, voice tight.

You didn’t push. Just looked at her.

Her glare wavered, and something behind it faltered.

A sigh, then she dropped down to sit in front of you, settling between your legs, her arms resting casually across your knees. “I just… this was different to what I expected when I signed up for the program.”

“How different?”

“I’m not gonna tell you—” She hesitated, then smirked faintly. “How about you go first?”

“Oh wow,” you said, grinning. “Curling it back to me. Real smooth.”

You leaned back into the couch.

“Where do I start? Shitty life, barely surviving, scraping by. Then I heard about the program—matchmaking, state incentives, guaranteed housing, government support if you start a family. Sounded like a dream. A new life handed to you on a silver platter.”

Yeji listened quietly, eyes on your face.

“I didn’t have the luxury to dream about love or family,” you went on. “But if some algorithm could give me a guaranteed match? Sure. Seemed easier to believe in data than in people.”

“The Red String Algorithm,” Yeji said, her voice quiet but undeniably proud. “It extracts every meaningful signal from your history—psych profiles, communication patterns, even the way you process conflict—and uses it to find a true match. Ninety-nine point six percent success rate.”

You snorted. “Right, sorry—Miss Researcher.”

She shot you a look. “You’re living with one of its core developers. You should at least remember the name.”

There was a pause. Her tone softened.

“I always knew the algorithm could work. I just didn’t expect it would… work on me.”

You glanced at her. “It saved my ass, I’ll admit that. But if I’d known back then we’d be matched as a trio instead of a pair…”

You trailed off.

“Then…?” Yeji prompted, cautious.

“Are you saying you regret it?”

“No.” You answered quickly. “Definitely not. Just… it caught me off guard. That’s all. But one thing’s for sure—I’d never go back to before this.”

A silence settled. Not heavy. Just thoughtful.

“…Well,” you said, nudging her lightly. “Your turn. Remember?”

“Same as you.”

“Wow, I feel cheated.”

“Okay, not exactly the same,” she relented. “But I also joined because it made sense. When I applied, they told me my research would get priority status—more funding, less red tape. I didn’t have time to date. The idea of some system finding me a perfect match felt like… a neat solution. Just another algorithm doing its job.”

She gave a short, dry laugh. “And the benefits weren’t bad either.”

You didn’t interrupt. Just waited.

“I thought I knew exactly what I was signing up for,” she said, voice softer now. “I prepared for everything—sharing space, building habits, managing intimacy like a checklist. But the system knew better.”

Her gaze flicked up to you.

“I didn’t expect… you. Her. Us.”

Your breath caught slightly. There was something flickering in her eyes—uncertainty dressed in composure, like she wasn’t quite sure how much to reveal.

You were about to respond when a soft groan broke the moment.

Liz.

She stirred beside you, shifting slightly, her arm flopping over the couch’s edge.

Both you and Yeji turned to look.

“She’s gonna whine tomorrow,” you said, chuckling under your breath.

Yeji tilted her head. “Assuming she waits till morning.”

a small chuckle.

You smiled, the last threads of laughter still lingering in your chest, and without thinking, you leaned forward—closer to Yeji, who was still sitting on the floor between your knees.

Your arm brushed against her shoulder.

She didn't flinch. If anything, she tilted her head slightly, as if encouraging the contact.

Your laughter faded, leaving behind a sudden, charged silence.

Yeji shifted, angling her body to face you more fully. Her hands came up, resting lightly on your thighs—steadier than her breathing.

Her voice dropped, low and coaxing.

“We still have tonight.”

The weight of her words sank deep into you.

Your breath hitched.

The distance between you was barely anything now, measured only in heartbeats. Her thumbs brushed slow, thoughtless circles against your legs, a touch so featherlight it made you hyper aware of every nerve ending.

“Yeji—” you began, but it came out rough, unsteady.

She smiled—small, almost mischievous—and leaned in.

Close enough that her breath fanned against your mouth.

Close enough that you could count the tiny flecks of gold in her dark eyes.

“You’re drunk,” you whispered.

“Weak excuse,” she murmured, brushing her lips against yours. “You know I’m not.”

Her lips brushed yours, soft, almost there, a ghost of a kiss that left you aching for more.

“We can’t do this.”

“We’re married—on paper,” she replied between kisses. “This is exactly what we’re supposed to do.”

“I mean not now—not here.”

A soft groan broke the moment—Liz, stirring restlessly on the couch.

You both turned to look at her, your hearts tripping over themselves.

But when you looked back, Yeji was already watching you again, emboldened by the interrupted moment.

“Liz is here—”

“You're picking favorites?” with her voice low, almost a warning.

“What? No—”

She kissed you again, firmer this time, her hands sliding a little higher along your thighs, anchoring herself to you.

You should stop this. You knew you should.

But when her tongue teased at your bottom lip, asking—no, daring—you to let her in, your resistance cracked completely.

You kissed her back.

Yeji shifted—settling back down to her knees, now between your legs. Her palms slid smoothly over your thighs, grounding you in the moment as her eyes locked with yours.

The warmth of her hands seemingly seeping through the fabric. Her thumbs brushed a small, absent circle through the fabric. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but words dissolved in your throat when her fingers moved to your waistband. Slow. Testing.

“Yeji…” a futile warning, knowing it's not you who’s in control.

She glanced up, lips parted, eyes locked. “If you want me to stop, say it.”

Your silence was her permission.

A slow, satisfied smile curved her lips as her fingers undid the button, then the zipper—slow, methodical—and peeled your pants away with a patience that only made it worse.

And better.

Your breath caught in your throat as the cool air hit you, the warmth of her hand came after—then the heat of her mouth.

She widened her mouth, opening to welcome you deeper, her head bobbing with growing urgency. Wet sounds filled the room—the slick slide of her lips, the soft, breathy gags as you hit the back of her throat, the faint brush of her hair against your stomach as she leaned in harder, more desperate.

It was overwhelming—too much, too good.

And maybe that was why, somewhere in the fog of pleasure, a sharp thread of worry slipped through.

Your chest tightened. You turned instinctively to your side, the sudden need to check, to make sure—

“Fuck. Yeji!” You shoved her mouth off your cock, not far, not harsh, just enough to break the seal of her lips—just enough to expose her slick grin and the spit-slick strand still connecting her tongue to your tip.

Liz.

She was awake.

Hands covered her face like she was trying to deny what she was seeing—yet her fingers parted just enough for you to catch her eyes, wide and shimmering, veiling its shame. Caught between wanting to watch and wanting to flee, flushed.

“Liz, it’s not—” you stammered, cock still wet, still hard, still twitching under the ghost of Yeji’s mouth.

“For someone touchy, you’re surprisingly shy.” Yeji cuts in before you could reason.

“It’s normal to be shy in situations like this!” Liz croaked, voice cracking mid-protest, eyes locked on you as if she was calling for you to be on her side.

Yeji only laughed softly, the sound dripping with knowing amusement. “Is it also normal to be shy when it’s just you two, too?”

Your mouth opened—but nothing came out. Words tangled in your throat, hot and useless. “How—”

“The walls are thin, you know,” Yeji said, voice lazy, almost indulgent. Then she glanced at Liz—deliberate, slow. “Plus, you’re awfully loud.”

A tiny sound escaped Liz behind her hands—a muffled whimper, not fear, not disgust. Something else. Excitement, tangled with shame, twisting hot and helpless in her gut.

Yeji stretched her arms languidly behind her, a cat waking from a satisfied nap, then leaned in, voice sultry and slow. “Well,” she said, her gaze locking onto Liz’s, “are you just going to stare?”

“Yeji—” you warned, already knowing it was too late.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, all liquid confidence, and purred, “Maybe you should head back to your room, little voyeur.”

The words wrapped around Liz like smoke—seductive, heavy, inescapable. But Liz didn’t move.

“I—I’m not going to leave,” Liz stammered, voice so small it barely reached across the couch. But it did. Every syllable landed like a drop of oil on fire.

Her eyes narrowed, gleamed like a predator’s in low light—sharp, cutting, approving. She sat back on her heels, head tilting slightly as if appraising Liz under new light. Her hand didn’t leave your cock. She held it steady, fingers curled at the base, glistening with spit, the exposed length twitching under her grip.

“Cute,” she finally said, slow and velvety. “Come here, then.”

Liz hesitated only a heartbeat before leaving her hoodie on the couch. Shoulders bare. Tank top clinging to soft curves. No bra. Her nipples pressed like little beads against the fabric, hard from watching. From wanting. From finally deciding.

.Yeji watched her approach without blinking.

You sat frozen between them—cock soaked, heart pounding, thighs trembling from restraint.

Liz knelt beside Yeji, movements quiet, cautious, like she was stepping into a hot bath—both terrified and aching to be swallowed.

“Ever done this?” Yeji asked, without malice, just curiosity sharpened by thrill.

Liz shook her head, biting her lip, cheeks blooming red. “No… not like this.”

“Oh princess.” Yeji’s smirk deepened. “Follow my lead.”

And just like that, Liz lowered herself.

Her hand reached first—tentative, warm fingers brushing your shaft like you might disappear. Her touch was featherlight, reverent, like she was holding something sacred. Yeji guided her, sliding her hand on top of Liz’s, the contrast striking—Yeji’s grip firm, Liz’s trembling.

You groaned.

Yeji started stroking again, this time with Liz’s hand moving under hers, both palms working you together, one bold and commanding, the other shy and curious. Flesh slid slick and smooth under their hands, your hips twitching against the sensation of two women touching you at once.

“Go on,” Yeji said, voice a breath against your thigh now. “Try it.”

Liz leaned in.

Her lips parted just slightly, tongue flicking out like she was testing temperature. She kissed your tip, soft, barely there, then pulled back with wide eyes.

Yeji’s hand never stopped moving.

“Again,” Yeji coaxed. “Open wider. No teeth.”

Liz nodded. Obedient. Blushing.

She leaned in again and wrapped her lips around your head, warm and wet and cautious. She sucked gently, cheeks hollowing slightly, dimple flashing as she bobbed forward—then pulled back, letting your cock pop wetly from her mouth.

You gasped.

Yeji growled, something primal. “Not bad.”

Then she dove in again.

Her mouth engulfed your length beside Liz’s, taking more, taking deeper, her tongue a skilled, relentless force. Liz followed with wide eyes, licking the side of your shaft Yeji wasn’t occupying, kissing the base, moaning softly every time she tasted you.

Their mouths moved in tandem. Yeji’s deep and possessive, Liz’s light and fluttering.

You were being devoured.

“Fuck—shit, girls—ah—” Your voice shattered, your thighs spread wider, hips rolling into their mouths, body caught between Yeji’s dominance and Liz’s eager submission.

Yeji sucked harder. Her eyes snapped up, locking with yours. Commanding.

Liz’s tongue curled around your base, her hand cupping your balls, soft fingers trembling with effort and excitement. Her lips were pink and swollen now, a line of drool running down her chin as she moaned against your skin.

Yeji pulled back and let a long string of spit fall from her tongue to your cock, coating it more. “Good girl,” she muttered to Liz, then slapped her ass gently. “But don’t just play. Take him. Like this.”

She shoved her mouth down again—deeper, fiercer, throat clenching around you as she gagged slightly, then pulled back with a slurp, gasping. “That’s how you suck cock.”

Liz’s eyes sparkled, wet and wide. She swallowed nervously. Then she tried again, this time deeper, more committed.

You could barely hold on.

“God, you’re both—fuck—” you groaned, voice barely there, one hand buried in Yeji’s hair, the other tangled in Liz’s.

They licked you like it was a competition. A dance. Heat and wetness and rhythm. Yeji guiding Liz, licking the underside while Liz took your tip, her lips wrapped around it so gently you thought you might lose it. Then they’d trade—Yeji taking you all the way, Liz licking what she couldn’t reach. Spit soaked your thighs. Their mouths met at your base, licking each other’s tongues, sharing the taste of you.

You were shaking.

Yeji grinned against your cock. “Cum for us,” she whispered.

Liz whimpered. “Please…”

Your breath caught—lungs seized like a misfiring engine, every nerve in your body tightening to a razor’s edge. Their mouths moved in perfect sync now, wet, rhythmic, obscene. Yeji’s tongue flicked just beneath the head as Liz suckled the tip, cheeks drawn in with hunger and awe. You could barely tell whose hand was whose—soft skin wrapped around your shaft, stroking in tandem, squeezing you up toward the inevitable.

“F-Fuck, I’m—” The words barely left your lips before your hips bucked, spine arching off the couch.

Yeji pulled Liz back at the last moment, hand gripping the base tight, lips parting as your cock erupted.

Hot, thick spurts of cum painted Yeji’s tongue, her mouth, her throat. She moaned, her eyes rolling slightly, lashes fluttering, her throat working as she swallowed it down. But not all of it.

She didn’t swallow it all.

She held some—warm, white, thick—pooling on her tongue like a decadent gift.

“Ahhn…” she exhaled, eyes flicking to Liz. Still kneeling. Still flushed. Still trembling from watching you explode.

Yeji grabbed her by the jaw.

Firm but not cruel. Her fingers pressed into Liz’s cheeks, and Liz gasped as Yeji leaned in—mouth open, cum heavy inside—and kissed her.

No time for hesitation.

Their lips met in a sticky, messy, desperate kiss. Yeji pushed it into her. Tongue sliding in, sharing the load. The mix of slick spit and seed spilling from one mouth to the other in thick, slow dribbles.

Liz’s eyes went wide—but she didn’t pull away.

She moaned.

Yeji groaned back, fingers now buried in Liz’s hair as she deepened the kiss, mouths locked, tongues swirling, swapping the taste of you like something sacred and filthy all at once.

You watched, dazed, cock twitching even in its aftershock.

Yeji pulled away finally, a thin strand of cum still stretching between their lips, shining in the low light.

Liz swallowed.

Hard.

She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then smiled at you—shy, glowing, a little breathless, dimple showing even now.

Yeji licked her lips. “Now that,” she said, voice hoarse with triumph, “is how you share.”

Liz giggled—sweet, almost innocent—but her thighs were pressed tight together, her chest rising fast.

Yeji turned to you again, stroking your thigh lazily. “Bedroom?” she whispered, licking the last drop off her thumb.

Your cock twitched.

You weren’t done. Neither were they.

They stood, both of them still licking their lips—one smug, the other dazed—while you slumped back against the couch, cock twitching from oversensitivity, slick with their spit, your legs weak with afterglow. But for Yeji, for them it had just started.

She grabbed your hand. “Come. Now.”

Yeji stood first. Confident. Graceful. She rose like sin personified, the wet gleam on her lips catching the low light. Then she turned, reached out, and grabbed your wrist. “Bedroom,” she said, no room for argument in her tone. She was already moving, pulling you off the couch with Liz scrambling up after, nervous but burning with adrenaline, her thighs rubbing as she followed you both down the dim hallway.

Your room was barely lit—warm shadows, rumpled sheets, faint perfume in the air—but it didn’t matter.

Yeji pushed the door shut behind you with her foot and turned to Liz.

“Well?” she asked, voice low, like a dare wrapped in silk. “You’ve been watching. Want to feel it now?”

Liz hesitated, biting her lip again. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Yeji smirked. “Clothes off. On the bed.”

Liz obeyed. Her tank top peeled up over her head, revealing soft, pale skin and pert breasts tipped with flushed pink. She shimmied her shorts and panties down together, stepping out with one leg at a time, her movements hesitant but fluid, like a dream she wasn’t sure she was awake for.

She lay back, legs closing instinctively. Yeji clicked her tongue.

“Open,” she said, climbing onto the bed beside her. “Don’t hide now.”

Liz parted her legs, slowly, her pussy glistening already, folds pink and puffy with anticipation. She covered her face for a second with one hand, but peeked through her fingers just like before—watching you.

You were already hard again.

Yeji crooked her finger at you. “Come here,” she said. “She’s ready.”

You crawled up between Liz’s spread legs, your cock bobbing, already aching again from the scene you’d just watched unfold. Yeji knelt beside her, hand sliding up Liz’s inner thigh, spreading her gently, two fingers brushing over her slick entrance.

“She’s soaked,” she said, glancing at you with heat. “Give it to her slow.”

You nodded, guiding yourself to Liz’s entrance, the heat of her making you groan before you even pushed in. The first inch was heaven. Wet, tight, squeezing you like she’d been made for it.

Liz gasped, her back arching, hand flying to your arm. “Oh my god…”

You went deeper, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around you. She was snug, fluttering around your cock like her body was shocked by how full she felt. Her eyes fluttered, mouth parting in a moan she tried to swallow.

Yeji leaned in, kissed her neck. “Breathe. Let him in.”

You bottomed out with a grunt, hips pressing flush against her, Liz’s breath catching in her throat as her nails dug into your shoulder. You held still, letting her adjust, your cock twitching inside her walls.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” you whispered.

Liz whimpered.

Yeji’s hand slid over her breast, pinching a nipple, making her buck slightly beneath you.

“Move,” Yeji ordered you. “Let her feel it.”

You started to thrust—slow, deliberate strokes, dragging along her slick walls. Liz moaned louder now, hips rising to meet yours, the tension melting from her limbs as pleasure took its place.

Yeji watched you both, her hand dipping between Liz’s thighs, fingers finding the little pearl at the top of her slit. She rubbed it in slow circles, matching your thrusts.

Liz cried out—short, breathless sounds that only made you pound harder.

“You like that?” Yeji purred into Liz’s ear. “You like being fucked while I touch you?”

Liz nodded frantically, eyes glassy, mouth falling open in a silent moan as her legs locked tighter around your waist.

Yeji leaned in, kissed her—slow and deep—her fingers still working between Liz’s thighs, circling faster now. Then she pulled back, lips slick, eyes glowing, and turned her gaze on you.

There was a glint in them—mischievous, luring. She leaned closer to you, a breath’s warmth brushing your lips just before she claimed them in a kiss.

It was deep. Hungry. Her mouth molded to yours, tongue sliding against yours with deliberate control, a slow burn of desire made real. Her fingers curled into your shoulder to steady herself as her body pressed against yours.

Your hand, once gripping her thigh, faltered—drifting upward instead to cup her jaw. You kissed her harder, pulling her in, drowning yourself in the heat of her mouth.

Everything else blurred—until Liz moved beneath you.

A soft whimper broke through, her hips rolling upward again, slick heat clenching around you, desperate for motion. She hadn’t stopped.

Your eyes cracked open as Yeji pulled back just enough to see.

She followed your glance. Saw Liz writhing below, breathless, impatient.

A smirk bloomed across her face. “Faster,” Yeji murmured, voice like silk catching flame. “She can take it.”

You obeyed. Your hips slapped against her thighs, your cock plunging deeper with every thrust. Liz was gasping, writhing, caught between your rhythm and Yeji’s touch. Her body trembled under the intensity, and her eyes locked with yours—wide, pleading, filled with wild pleasure.

“Y-Yes, fuck—ahh, please—” Liz sobbed, her back arching, body clenching around you so tight it stole your breath.

“She’s close,” Yeji said, licking her fingers before sliding them back down. “Don’t pull out.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you growled.

You drove into her harder, faster, relentless now. Her wet heat clung to you with every stroke, and the sound of skin slapping, Liz’s cries, and Yeji’s breathy moans filled the room like music.

Liz shook, her thighs trembling, hands clawing at the sheets. Her pussy squeezed around your cock like a vice, milking you as her orgasm crested.

“Cumming—oh god—fucking—!” she screamed, her whole body snapping taut beneath you as she came, walls fluttering and pulsing.

Yeji didn’t stop touching her. She kept rubbing, helping her ride the wave while watching your face.

You weren’t going to last.

Not with Liz gripping you like this, still spasming, not with Yeji’s eyes on you like she owned you.

You buried yourself as deep as you could, every muscle tensing, balls drawing up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—!”

And then you were spilling inside her.

Thick, hot pulses of cum shot into her womb, and she gasped as she felt it, body still twitching around you, milking every last drop. Your hips jerked with each burst, and Yeji moaned softly, her hand slipping down to press lightly against Liz’s belly as if she could feel your cum filling her from the outside.

“Good boy,” she whispered, eyes dark and satisfied. “Fucking bred her good, didn’t you?”

You collapsed forward, panting, still buried in Liz’s quivering body, her pussy sucking on your softening cock like it didn’t want to let go.

And Yeji?

She wasn’t done.

Yeji shifted atop you, still catching her breath, your cum dripping from her slowly with every subtle movement of her hips. Her fingers pressed into your chest as she sat upright again, grinding once more just to feel it—feel you still inside her, thick and twitching, softening slightly but not quite done.

She clenched.

Hard.

Your body jolted under her.

“Still got more in you,” she whispered, her voice low, husky, coaxing. “I want mine.”

She leaned forward, bracing herself on your chest, rolling her hips with practiced control. Slow, deliberate circles that pulled sounds from you like wringing a soaked cloth. Your hands gripped her thighs, slick with sweat, watching her move like liquid heat above you—hair plastered to her face, eyes locked on yours with fire and intent.

Liz stirred beside you, still flushed, her fingers resting at her slick entrance, too tender to touch but too affected to stop watching. Her gaze flicked between your face and the way Yeji rode you, her lips parted in silent awe.

Yeji slammed down again. And again.

You choked on a breath, overstimulated but captivated, your cock responding to her no matter how raw you felt. She twisted her hips on each downward thrust, her pussy still impossibly tight, her insides sucking you deeper, using your last reserves.

She moaned—deep and feral, each sound dragging from her throat like a battle cry and a prayer at once.

“I want it,” she said again, breathless. “All of it.”

You couldn’t stop if you tried.

Your nails dug into her ass as you started thrusting up into her, meeting her pace, driving harder, faster, the slap of skin echoing through the room. Yeji's back arched, hands splayed against your chest as her body began to quake. She was close—so close you could feel it in the way her walls fluttered, clamped.

“Right there,” she hissed. “Fucking—yes—don’t stop—”

You slammed into her.

Once. Twice. Deep.

And you broke.

Hot cum burst inside her again, thicker this time, pressure building in a final desperate wave. Yeji screamed—actual screamed—her orgasm snapping through her like a whip, her body locking up as her pussy milked your cock for everything. Her head tossed back, spine a perfect bow, mouth open wide as she came hard, spilling over you.

You pulsed inside her, filling her again, until she collapsed forward, full, dripping, her breath hot against your throat.

“Fuck…” she whispered, barely audible.

Your arms wrapped around her without thinking. Liz curled tighter into your side, her fingers lacing with yours. Yeji lay across your chest, one hand resting on Liz’s hip, all three of you tangled, sweating, sticky and still twitching from the echoes.

The room smelled of sex—thick, raw, heady.

None of you moved.

Yeji shifted once, just enough to sigh, cum seeping from her slowly, spreading warmth between your thighs.

Liz murmured something soft, a barely-there breath of contentment, her head tucked into the crook of your neck.

You could feel the last of your strength ebbing away, your muscles too relaxed to hold anything but this—this perfect, fucked-out stillness. A puddle of limbs, moans fading, breath evening out.

The dark wrapped around you all.

And then sleep took you.

A/n: Part of Woolly's prompt event!

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #itzy smut #ive smut #yeji #Liz #Liz smut #yeji smut #Itzy #Ive #RedString #qwib-series #qwib-itzy #qwib-Ive

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gottalovesae · 1 month ago

Text

Operation: Cupid ✩ Oscar Piastri

Characters: Oscar Piastri x fem! reader, Lando Norris x fem! reader (platonic)

Summary: Lando playing matchmaker and trying to get his two best friends together in the most desperate and dramatic ways that only he could pull off. Oscar just being done with his friends antics and reader who just plays along.

1,750words

Warnings: brief indications showing reader is in the medical field.

Yours Truly: so tell me why I didn't notice until today that I accidentally posted this story unfinished. I woke up to notifications confused. So instead of deleting I'll finish it after my work shift. So full story will be completed by 5pm. Thank you to those who've already liked 🤍

Lando Norris has two goals in life at the moment: win the drivers championship and to get his two best together. Ever since Lando introduced them he could see that they were just perfect for each other.

Oscar Piastri, his teammate, was a brilliant driver, no doubt. Fast and focused, but also painfully oblivious. And Y/N, his best friend since diapers, intelligent, down to earth, and wit sharper than the Monaco hairpin.

And they were both, individually, one of Lando's closest friends. The problem? They were perfect for each other. An undeniable chemistry brewing between them whenever they were in the same room, a series of shared glances, jokes, and banter that Lando quickly noticed.

They always admired each other from afar, never too close, afraid to pass an imaginary line. The pieces were right there. They just needed a little.nudge. A nudge that came in the form of Lando Norris. He calls it Operation: Cupid.

Lando has tried everything, and I truly mean everything.

First, Lando "accidentally" double booked the same fancy restaurant for dinner with both Oscar and Y/N on the same night. He acted surprised when they both showed up and suggested that they all just have dinner instead. He bribed the waiter to give them the romantic corner table with candles and the best view. He pictured romantic glances, whispered conversations, maybe even a shared plate of pasta. In reality, dinner was spent locked in a heated debate about the best types of pizza dough. Both parties failed to notice the work Lando put into the evening. Strike one.

Then Lando tried "forced proximity." On a road trip, he "arranged" for Oscar and Y/N to ride in the same rental car. He expected shared bags of snacks, giggling over inside jokes, and singing along to karaoke, but yet again his hopes were just way too high. Oscar, the ever responsible one, meticulously mapped out a safe route, and Y/N spent the travel catching up on sleep with her her head conveniently (and infuriating so) rested on the window, and not Oscar's shoulder. Lando wanted to pull his hair out. Strike two.

The next attempt Lando came up with was a "team bonding" exercise. He convinced half the paddock (who were unwillingly dragged into this) plus her to go out for a weekend of... paintball. Yes, that's right people paintball. Again, Lando was expecting cutesy couple-ly stuff like them working together taking people down, having each others backs, and celebrating together when they won. Yet again he was wrong. Instead, Y/N with terrifying accuracy, had accidentally shot Oscar in the… well, let's just say it was a sensitive area. Oscar, in retaliation, had unleashed a wave of paintballs upon Y/N with the intensity of a warrior. Honestly Lando should've seen it coming knowing how competitive they both get. By the end of the weekend, both were covered in bruises and barely speaking to each other. This was strike three.

Lando was really desperate now. He truly did try everything. This next idea in his head would have to be the best performance of life. He swears this will work in the name of love.

Lando calls this plan "The Sidewalk Serenade."

The midday sun beat down on the Monaco sidewalk with relentless intensity. Lando Norris, professional racing driver and amateur Cupid, lay dramatically on the pavement limbs sprawled out, feigning unconsciousness with a dedication usually reserved for battling Max Verstappen for the lead on the final laps of a race.

"Ugh...the.the heat..t.o.o..much." he groaned, theatrically flailing his arms. He'd practiced this fall in his head for three days, meticulously calculating the right angle without actually cracking his skull.

A part of him, the small, rational part that hadn't been completely taken over by his determination that Oscar and Y/N were destined for each other, screamed that this was utterly ridiculous. He, Lando Norris, Formula 1 superstar, was pretending to faint on a public sidewalk. But the larger, more persistent part of him, the part fueled by the power of friendship, and a alarming amount of caffeine was completely unashamed. This was "Operation: Cupid," and damn it, he was going so see this through.

Across the street, Oscar Piastri stood frozen in a mixture of disbelief and extreme embarrassment. He'd been on his way to grab a quick lunch when he'd spotted Lando's..performance. His jaw hung, baffled.

"Lando?" he called out, his voice laced with exasperation and genuine concern. "What in the actual hell are you doing?"

Lando, maintaining his commitment to the charade, continued to groan. "Help...me... see...lights.."

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. He considered turning around and pretending he hadn't seen anything. He really did. But the thought of Lando genuinely collapsing from heatstroke, however unwillingly, forced him forward and right into his friends trap.

As Oscar approached, he noticed a figure hurrying towards them from the opposite direction. It was Y/N. And the other half of Lando's audacious matchmaking scheme.

Y/N's brows were furrowed with concern. "What's going on here? Lando! Are you alright?" she asked, kneeling beside him and immediately checking his pulse.

He..he just collapsed," Oscar stammered, slightly reeling back awkwardly suddenly very, very aware of Y/N's proximity. "I don't know what happened."

Lando, internally delighted from the success of his elaborate plan, suppressed a grin and managed a weak, "|..I think I need.. a doctor.

Y/N skillfully assessed him. "His pulse is elevated, but regular. He's breathing normally. Lando, can you hear me? Open your eyes."

Lando fluttered his eyelids open, feigning disorientation reaching for her face. "Y/N? Is that..is that you? Am..I..dead?" 'Oh god,' Oscar thinks.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. "You're not dead, you drama queen. But you are being incredibly troublesome. Oscar, can you help me get him to his feet? He probably just overheated."

Together, Oscar and Y/N helped Lando stand. As he leaned on them, Lando subtly moved, making sure that Oscar and Y/N were practically shoulder-to-shoulder. He even managed to "accidentally" bumped their hands a couple of times.

"Maybe we should get you some water," Oscar suggested, his cheeks slightly flushed.

"And maybe we should check your blood sugar," Y/N added, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Unless you've been pulling one of your famous stunts, Lando."

Lando chuckled weakly. "Stunts? Me? Never." He then launched into a completely fabricated story about skipping breakfast and pushing himself too hard at the gym (mind you he hadn't even gone to the gym that day), throwing in a few dramatic pauses for effect.

As they walked towards a nearby café, Lando, hanging heavily between his two unsuspecting targets, felt a surge of victory. Now, all he had to do was fan the flames.

Lando, now miraculously recovered from his "heatstroke," was rambling about a near-miss on the track, but his eyes kept darting between Oscar and Y/N, gauging their reactions.

Oscar, still slightly flustered by the events of the past hour, found himself aware of her. He noticed the way her brow furrowed slightly as she listened to Lando's story, the subtle curve of her lips when she smiled, and the way her eyes sparkled. He had always found her attractive, but today, something felt different.

Y/N, for the most part, was trying her best to ignore Lando's antics and focus on Oscar. She'd always admired his quiet presence and his dedication to his craft. He was clearly embarrassed by Lando's behavior, but he handled it with a grace and good humor that she found endearing. Plus, she had to admit, he looked incredibly good in the afternoon sun, his normally meticulous hair slightly ruffled from their impromptu rescue mission from having to physically lift Lando from the pavement.

As Lando's story finished, he paused dramatically, expecting a reaction from Oscar and Y/N, who were lost in their own little bubble, their eyes locked in a moment of unspoken connection.

Lando cleared his throat loudly. "So..what do you guys think? Pretty crazy, right?"

Oscar and Y/N blinked, startled back to reality.

"Uh, yeah, crazy," Oscar mumbled, his cheeks flushing again.

Y/N nodded in agreement. "Definitely..intense."

Lando grinned, sensing an opening. "Well, I'm starving. How about we grab some dinner later? My treat."

Oscar hesitated, glancing at Y/N. "Actually, I was planning on just ordering in tonight. Big day of practice tomorrow."

Y/N chimed in, "I was going to catch up on some reading, but dinner sounds nice. Unless you're too tired, Oscar?"

Oscar's face lit up like a damn Christmas tree, completely disregarding what he said before. "Not at all! Dinner sounds great. Just the three of us?"

Lando, trying to suppress a smirk, feigned disappointment. "Oh, you know, I actually have a thing. Important..racing..stuff. You two should totally go without me." He winked.

Oscar and Y/N exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them.

"Are you sure, Lando?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with amusement.

'Absolutely! Definitely! You guys have fun. I'll catch you later," Lando said, practically shoving them out of the café.

With no choice, they both walked away together and immediately burst out laughing once they were at least a block away.

He's unbelievable," Oscar said, shaking his head. "I can't believe he actually faked a fainting spell."

"He's a terrible actor," Y/N agreed, "but I have to admit, it was kind of...sweet."

"Sweet?" Oscar raised an eyebrow.

"Well, misguidedly sweet in his own Lando way,' Y/N corrected. "He obviously wants us to get together. He's been trying really hard."

"And do you?" Oscar asked, his voice suddenly serious.

Y/N stopped walking and turned to face him. "Do I what?"

Do you want to get together? With me?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then smiled. "I wouldn't mind getting to know you better, Oscar. Without Lando's....interference."

"Me neither," Oscar said, his smile mirroring hers. "How about we ditch the restaurant and just grab some pizza? My place, Netflix, no fainting allowed."

"Sounds perfect," Y/N said, her heart skipping a beat.

Lando, watching from across the street, pumped his fist in the air. Operation: Cupid was a success! He might have been a bit over the top, a bit ridiculous, and maybe a little bit manipulative, but he had brought two amazing people together. And that, he decided, was worth any amount of embarrassment.

A few months later, Oscar and Y/N were happily dating, Lando had calmed down with the constant matchmaking attempts. They were thankful for the nudges that brought them together. After all, sometimes the most unexpected connections come from the most ridiculous schemes.

As for Lando, he was already plotting his next matchmaking adventure. There were plenty more lonely hearts in the paddock, and he was determined to find them their perfect match.

After all, what were friends for?

#formula one fanfic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 x reader #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #adri🤍

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