#plot drop 2025

[masenewman]

Who: Mason & @lucie-newman Where: Shopping center When: plot drop 2025

"So what exactly do we need to get?" Mason never made a grocery list. He simply survived off vibes, what he usually ate and making sure his dogs were fed. They were eating better than he was, but he had decided to help Lucie prepare and just tag along. "All we talking all junk food, healthy food or a good mix?" He was just here to throw stuff in the basket and carry water. "I don't want to see you texting me for anything you forgot, we're getting everything now."

[tashamadams]

Who: @writervickieg and Tasha

Where: Tasha's house

When: March 22, 2025

As her phone buzzed, she lazily glanced at it, expecting a text from Bryan or an email from the office. But seeing an emergency notification about an incoming storm caught her off guard. "Uh oh," she whispered and heled her phone out for Vickie to see, "looks like we're supposed to get a storm." She said and got up to look outside as it had already started snowing. "Wanna camp out here tonight?"

[drtamarahayes]

WHO: Tam & @jaceeverett

WHERE: Theo & Tam’s home, coastal area

WHEN: Late March, 2025 (plot drop)

Sending Theo a quick text to remind him to let her know he was safe, Tamara slid her phone back onto the countertop and let out a breath. It was only getting worse outside — definitely not safe for her small SUV, so she was making sure they were organised and ready to go should the power fail. Her eyes picked up at a motion outside, a truck pulling into their driveway. Hobbling towards the front door, Tamara opened it to welcome Jason. “Hey, stranger. Doing rounds before it gets worse?”

[monixoconnor]

WHO: Moni & @lenavaz

WHERE: Lupine Lane — Moni’s trailer

WHEN: Late March, 2025 (plot drop)

The world outside seemed to disappear, every surface sheathed white; she couldn’t even see Lena’s own home anymore. Closing her front door as quickly as she’d opened it (a fair mistake on her part), brunette strands smoothed back by the gust of icy wind she’d just witnessed. “Okay, don’t let me do that again. No going home now, babe. Think you’re stuck with us — or at least I’d feel a lot better if you didn’t try and trek all that out there.”

[bryanxlawrence]

Who: Bryan & @sloaneloise

When: Snowstorm, March 2025

Where: Community Center

Bryan hadn't expected to find himself at the Community Center, but the timing had just somehow worked. Or not worked, depending on who asked. He had a truckload of food for the day, which meant that it had to be used or go to waste. And he was always precise on inventory. So he decided to go in and help out, working with what he had. The ingredients were still quite fresh, so with a few tweaks, he could make some good meals. So he decided to help set up first. He walked over to one of the tables, grabbing a couple of chairs. "Could you grab those for me too?" he nodded to the person nearby.

[vievecorcityevents]

MAJOR BLACKOUT IN VIEVECOR CITY!

As the sun sets in Vievecor City and its residents are winding down for the day, various parts of the city are suddenly plunged into darkness when the clock strikes 9pm!

Large blocks in each district have lost power in what is later found to be a coordinated attack to the city's power grid. None of these establishments were able to have power returned to them until the sun rose the next day.

What is curious and frustrating for the supernatural community to realise is that the places that have lost power were strategically chosen...

The following buildings/establishments and its surrounding buildings have had their power shut down:

The Shard 🔥🎯

Remington Tower 🔥🎯

Effendi Plaza 🎯

Nevermore Bar & Grill 🔥

Lunar Heights Pub 🔥

The Hereafter 🔥🎯

Westwood Theatre 🔥

Punch Cage 🔥

Vievecor City Gallery 🎯

Ware 🔥

With the power outtage at these specific establishments comes what the supernatural community knew innately was soon going to happen.

Attacks.

Groups of individuals were witnessed taking advantage of the chaos to vandalise (🎯) and/or set fires (🔥) to the supernatural-owned buildings. The places that were vandalised (🎯) will find an green-coloured illusion of Artemis' hunter's mark floating outside their building for 24 hours...

The following district has had its power shut down:

Chissob Hills

The entire district of Chissob Hills was plunged into darkness on this night. Despite dealing with a power outage in their own district, the Police and Fire departments were also busy dealing with the blackouts around the city and it stretched them and the Lycaon pack too thin. Vievecor City was lucky that Zamok Penitentiary was put on lockdown once the blackout occurred and no prisoners were reported to have escaped...

Amidst the chaos at Chissob Hills, ZACHARIAH REMINGTON was found to have escaped incarceration under the Lycaon pack. He was known to be aided by a group of Artemis followers because ONE FOLLOWER was captured in the aftermath. This one follower had a familiar object on their person -- a beaded bracelet that has been imbued with protective magic...

How will the supernatural community deal with this blackout? How are they going to go forward?

OOC Info:

Happy Blackout Chaos~ 🎉 Players should use the information in this PLOT DROP post to plot/discuss how their characters are involved with this blackout. Remember in which districts your characters reside/work in. Where were they when this blackout happened? What are they going to do? Did they witness any attacks? How will they deal with them while also abiding by the Golden Rule? As shown by the legend above, the different establishments have been either vandalised or set on fire or both. How will the owner's of these establishments deal with this and the mark that will remain outside their establishment for 24 hours? For IC-knowledge, humans will definitely be able to see these and characters should find ways to explain them away. Players can feel free to chase away, subdue or kill NPCs they have created for this plot drop, but please let the mod know of your plans and that any fallout from the Golden Rule and Council decisions must be played out! NPCs can be Artemis followers OR they can also just be regular humans taking advantage of the blackouts to cause some chaos! Establishments with the 🎯symbol are more likely to have been the target of Artemis attacks. Establishments with only the 🔥 symbol would more likely have been trashed and looted by humans who are not Artemis followers. The only NPC with any substantial knowledge will be the one mentioned in the post above! Every other NPC will not be able to give anyone much knowledge about Artemis that is not already known... HAPPY PLOTTING~

[ulkaralakbarova]

“Drop” (2025) Review – A Blind Date Turns into a Twisted Night of Terror

⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 3.5 out of 5. There’s a peculiar kind of vulnerability that comes with a blind date — the uncertainty of who you’ll meet, what you’ll say, or where the night might lead. For some, it ends with a second date. For others, it’s a story to laugh about later. But for Violet Gates, the blind date in Drop becomes a fight for survival — one that unearths secrets, traumas, and a deeply…

[hamdeokcomplex]

[plot drop] bienvenidos a guadalajara 

domingo, 13 de abril — Guadalajara

Não importa se você chegou às 6h, às 4h, ou qualquer outro horário da madrugada. Tudo o que importa é que o clima tropical de Guadalajara já recepcionou todos os atletas olímpicos de braços abertos, com direito a temperaturas agradáveis e um belíssimo céu azul! Ainda assim, é possível ouvir os resmungos coletivos e sonolentos ao seu redor - e talvez até seus, quem sabe! Seu corpo estala, suas pernas e sua mente estão definitivamente cansadas e tudo o que você mais quer no momento em que você e seus colegas de delegação põem os pés no aeroporto mexicano é pegarem suas bagagens e irem para seus hotéis, o que, felizmente, não parece demora muito para alguns graças a um milagre da organização do aeroporto (ou talvez seja o cansaço que sequer os deixa perceber a passagem do tempo).

Os ônibus que levarão as delegações já estavam a postos, aguardando exatamente no horário marcado para sua chegada em Guadalajara, a fim de que não houvesse atrasos, e logo vocês todos estão confortavelmente acomodados nas poltronas acolchoadas, a caminho de seus alojamentos durante a competição mais aguardada do mundo esportivo. 

A VILA OLÍMPICA

A vila foi redesenhada para que parecesse ser parte de uma exclusiva cadeia de hotéis boutique, onde cada uma de suas torres representam uma delegação nacional distinta — Cada torre tem de 10 a 15 andares e é decorada com elementos culturais e arquitetônicos dos países de origem dos atletas que ali irão se acomodar durante a competição. Todos os quartos acomodam até 2 pessoas e possuem 1 banheiro, ar-condicionado, armários espaçosos e uma bela varanda com vista para a bela área externa da vila olímpica. 

No centro do complexo há um jardim central, chamado "El Corazón Verde", que une todas as torres com fontes dançantes, esculturas interativas e espelhos d’água. É um espaço de descanso e encontros noturnos. A vegetação é uma mistura de flora nativa mexicana com espécies trazidas de cada país representado. 

Além dos alojamentos, a vila conta com restaurantes temáticos de cada torre, mas também possui seu boulevard gastronômico internacional no centro, chamado "Sabores del Mundo", onde os atletas podem experimentar pratos típicos de todas as nações convidadas para os Jogos Olímpicos – é claro, com tudo bem descrito, para que ninguém acidentalmente coma nada que lhe faça mal!  

Para movimentação entre prédios, como para ir até o restaurante, estão à disposição dos atletas carrinhos elétricos e silenciosos.

AS REGRAS

Para aqueles que não estão vindo pela primeira vez para os Jogos Olímpicos, já estão mais do que familiarizados com as regras do Comitê Olímpico, mas nunca é demais recapitular, especialmente para aqueles que estão fazendo sua estreia num evento desta magnitude. Então, atenção. 

Alojamento, Conduta e Circulação na Vila Olímpica

Hospedagem Obrigatória: Os atletas devem se hospedar na Vila Olímpica, com exceções apenas para casos autorizados, como competições em locais distantes.​

Restrições de Circulação: A movimentação é limitada a áreas designadas, como locais de competição e treino, visando segurança e logística eficiente durante o horário estipulado para competições e treinamento. 

Toque de recolher: todos os atletas devem estar de volta à Vila Olímpica às 23h, sendo o descumprimento desta regra passível de punição gravíssima.

Devem respeitar as leis locais — qualquer infração pode resultar em expulsão dos Jogos.

Uso de Redes Sociais e Privacidade

Criação de Conteúdo: Os atletas podem produzir conteúdo para suas redes sociais dentro da Vila Olímpica.​

Restrições de Filmagem: É proibido filmar áreas sensíveis, como a área médica e o controle de doping, e é necessário obter consentimento antes de gravar outros atletas.

Controle Antidoping

Testes Rigorosos: Os atletas estão sujeitos a testes antidoping antes e durante os Jogos, com penalidades severas para violações.

Agora que estão cientes de tudo, acomodem-se e descansem, atletas. O momento de fazer história está cada vez mais perto!

INFORMAÇÕES OOC

Olá, atletas! Uma parte dos nossos atletas olímpicos já está em Guadalajara pelo horário de Mokpo/Brasil (haha o fuso horário da deixando a gente MALUCA), então nada melhor do que deixarmos as informações pra vocês sobre a Vila Olímpica e suas regrinhas, não é? 

Clicando AQUI vocês conferem seus colegas de quarto durante a competição!

Pedimos atenção em relação ao horário só para eles não estarem no mesmo fuso do pessoal de Mokpo, então vamos considerar que são 12h de diferença pode ser? Se "aqui" na Coreia do Sul é noite, lá vão ser 12h de diferença para menos. Faz sentido? As Barbies são de humanas, perdão, essa bagunça logo volta ao normal quando o pessoal terminar de vir para cá!

Um Beijo das Barbies~ 

[ishikaxmehra]

Ishika studied him for a moment, noting the way he carried himself despite the pain. Stubborn. Determined. She could respect that. Her own bruises had faded, but the weight of that night still pressed against her ribs like a phantom ache. "You say that like it’s a rare occurrence," she murmured, glancing at the crowd around them. The city had a way of forcing uneasy alliances when survival was on the line.

Her gaze flickered back to him, sharper now. "You’re not the only one looking for answers. Whoever did this—whoever thought they could get away with it—made a mistake." Her voice was quiet but steady, edged with something unyielding. A ghost of a smirk touched her lips, humourless but not unkind. "But yeah. For tonight, I guess we’re getting along."

both of them had been affected by happened and it was good to see that they both managed to make it out alive, even when some people weren't as lucky. his injuries included some broken ribs, which were still healing, but he put on a brave face regardless of that. "i'm alive. that's all that matters. his eyes scanned over the scene around them and he lowered his voice as he spoke once more, "i'm going to find out who targeted all of us." he spoke only loud enough for her to hear because there was no way he was going to move on as though nothing had happened. "at least we're managing to get along for the night."

[kxsagi]

“𝐬𝐚𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞”

a/n: I NEVER SEE ANYONE TALK ABOUT THIS

SAE'S MANAGER'S LAST NAME DABADIE IS PRONOUNCED AS "DA BADDIE" SKSBFKSLNAGNALGNS

“girolan dabadie… da baddie???” 

sae doesn’t look up from his phone. “you’ve said it ten times.” 

“i’m gonna say it ten more.” you poke his cheek while trying to suppress your giggles. “baby. BABY. why didn’t you tell me your manager’s last name sounds like he belongs in a rap video?” 

“you met him two months ago. this isn't new information.” 

“da baddie, sae.” you stare at him, eyes wide with disbelief and barely contained chaos. “that’s literally how it’s pronounced. your manager is unintentionally iconic. he sounds like the final boss of an instagram thirst trap.” 

“he’s in his fifties.” 

“and yet,” you dramatically press a hand to your chest, “he is da baddie.” 

sae finally puts his phone down and gives you the faintest smirk. “you’re the most annoying person i’ve ever met.” 

you nudge his thigh with your foot. “you love it.” 

“no,” he says, but you hear the softness in his voice. “you were literally crying laughing in the car on the way back from practice.” 

“because i heard someone call him mr. dabadie in full seriousness and i –” your voice breaks as the laugh bubbles up again. “i can’t believe i was shaking that man’s hand like, ‘nice to meet you, sir,’ while not knowing i was in the presence of a baddie.” 

sae shakes his head and mutters, “for fuck’s sake,” but he’s trying not to smile now. you can see the corners of his lips twitching. 

you grin. “do you think he knows?” 

sae raises an eyebrow. “that his name sounds like he runs a makeup brand and a secret fanpage on twitter?” 

you slap his arm and gasp. “you do think it’s funny!” 

sae exhales through his nose, a barely audible, actual laugh. “he signed an email once with just ‘– da baddie.’ i stared at it for ten minutes. but realized it was probably autocorrect.” 

“NO WAY.” 

“swear.” 

you throw your head back with a cackle. “he knows. oh my gosh, he knows he’s a legend.” 

“you can’t say anything.” 

“i would never.” you pause. “except i already made a fake commercial for him in the voice memo app.” 

sae blinks. “what?” 

“wanna hear it?” 

before he can answer, you press play. your voice echoes through the apartment in dramatic, sultry tones: 

“he’s not just a manager. he’s a lifestyle. 

he’s not just on time, he is the timeline. 

this fall, one man walks into the room, 

and everyone whispers… 

da baddie.” 

there’s a beat of silence before sae coughs into his hand, clearly trying not to laugh. 

you’re grinning ear to ear. “you liked it.” 

“that was stupid.” 

“but you liked it.” 

“i’m sending it to him.” 

you shriek. “sae!” 

he’s already air-dropping the file to his laptop. “too late. he deserves to hear his brand in action.” 

“what if he fires you?” 

“then i’ll become your manager. and go by ‘da worstie.’” 

you gasp. “we’ll be unstoppable. the baddie and the worstie tour 2025.” 

sae finally cracks and lets out a quiet laugh, the kind that makes your chest warm. it’s soft, rare, and entirely unbothered. 

“you’re so dumb,” he murmurs, but his gaze lingers on you fondly. 

you flop onto his shoulder. “and yet. i’m dating one of the world’s top football players.” 

“... and managed by da baddie himself.” 

you whisper reverently, “we are truly blessed.” 

sae just sighs again, but he doesn’t move away. he lets you rest there, quietly scrolling, while you start plotting a merch line in your head. 

you’re already designing a shirt that says da baddie energy. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[harrysfolklore]

Hi! Can you pls pls pls do a fic with Lisa (from Blackpink) as the face claim????

mystery man

summary: yn is dating someone from the f1 grid, but fans are having a hard time guessing which driver he is

folkie radio: last smau before the 2025 season kicks in!! honestly this is a weird concept but i hope you like it i had fun doing it !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

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yourinstagram just living my best life 🌊

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username1 MOTHER

username2 did she just soft launch ???

taylorswift The way I already know who this is 👀 happy for you bestie!

sabrinacarpenter Finally!!! 💕

username3 WAIT IS SHE DATING SOMEONE??? After that heartbreak album she released last month??

username4 the height matches jacob elordi who she was seen with at the grammy's after party!

username5 GIRL YOU CAN'T JUST DROP THIS AND NOT TELL US MORE

username6 detective mode: activated. he's tall and athletic build

username7 was this taken in Monaco??? The coastline looks familiar...

username8 TIMOTHEE LIKED!!! ITS HIM

shawnmendes 😍

username9 WHAT IF ITS AN ATHLETE ???? LIKE AN NFL PLAYER

username10 we need to solve this mystery asap

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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ynupdates YN HAS ARRIVED AT THE MIAMI FORMULA 1 GRAND PRIX!!!

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username1 PAUSEEE

username2 THE MOTORSPORT GIRLIES WERE RIGHT!!!!

username3 so the mystery man she’s dating could be a FORMULA 1 DRIVER

username4 quick somebody check which garage is she at

username5 we might know who her boyfriend is soon OMFG

username6 i KNEW she was dating someone from f1 since she started posting from monaco

username7 CARLOS??? IS IT CARLOS???

username8 yn and max would be THEEE couple

username9 charles has been liking her posts for the last 3 months 👀👀

username10 WAIT remember that lando posted stories with her songs !!

username11 y’all she’s been to mclaren and redbull so far 😭 how are we going to guess which one she’s with

username12 ITS MAX IM TELLING YALL

username13 plot twist: she’s with ocon

username14 followed by most of the drivers, visiting redbull and mclaren, wearing a mercedes cap last week, she’s really making sure we don’t figure out which team

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maxverstappen1 Good to have you in the garage today @/yourinstagram 🏎️

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username1 MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN

username2 ITS MAAAAX SHES DATING MAX

yourinstagram thanks for teaching me how to drive the sim! still can't believe i crashed 10 times 🙈

↳ username2 GIRL ARE YOU DATING HIM OR NOT

↳ username3 the way she’s trying to play it cool 😭

username4 COUPLE OF THE CENTURY

redbullracing Our favorite garage guest 💙

tmz CONFIRMED: Max Verstappen and pop sensation YN are dating

username5 everyone thinking it was Ferrari meanwhile... 🤡

username6 IS THIS THE WAY MAX SOFT LAUNCHES ???

username7 plot twist she’s not dating max

username8 their face cards side by side thooooo

username9 she was trying to be smooth and max just posted this

username10 UM I DONT THINK ITS MAX STILL

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landonorris MIAMI BABY!!! 🏆 First win we did it! Thank you team, thank you fans, and special thanks to the one waving that flag 😉

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username1 HUUUUUHHH

username2 HOW THE TABLES HAVE TURNED 😭

username3 wait… i thought she was dating max

danielricciardo CONGRATS CHAMP

oscarpiastri Well done mate 👏👏

yourinstagram congrats lan 🧡 best flag waving of my career tbh

↳ username1 GIRL WTF WHICH ONE ARE YOU DATING

↳ username2 ADRESS THE RUMORS

↳ username3 the way she’s making it impossible to guess which one she’s dating

username4 HOLD UP... EVERYONE THOUGHT IT WAS MAX???

mclaren Our favorite flag waver 🏁💕

username5 plot twist: she’s not even dating a formula 1 driver

username6 WHO is trolling us

username7 y’all it’s lando.. she posted a pic OF HER

username8 IM STILL A MAX X YN TRUTHER

georgerussell63 😂😂😂

username9 am i a fool for believing there’s still a possibility for yn and charles ??

username10 hear me out… they’re actually a throuple

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yourinstagram living my best F1 life 🏎️✨ thank you miami gp!

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username1 GIRL BE FOR REAL

username2 SHES SO ANNOYING

maxverstappen1 Best garage guest 👌

↳ username1 IS IT YOU?? ARE YOU HER BOYFRIEND

↳ username2 he marked his territory in the comment section it’s him

charles_leclerc ❤️

↳ username3 WHERE ARE THE CHARLES AND YN THRUTHERS AT?

↳ username4 guys it’s charles, lando and max posting about her rules them out because they usually gatekeep their relationships

landonorris Best flag waver in the business 🏁

↳ username1 IM SO CONFUSED RN

↳ username4 i give up trying to guess which one is it

username5 THE WAY SHE’S PURPOSELY FEEDING ALL THREE THEORIES IM CRYING

username6 GIRL WHO IS IT 😭

dualipa STUNNING ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

gigihadid queenieeee ily

username7 is no one going to talk about the possibility of lewis?? he’s also single and she was wearing a mercedes cap last week AND he has been to her concerts

username8 everyone: "Which driver are you dating?" YN: "Yes"

username9 what if it's been Charles this whole time? 👀 she keeps posting from monaco

username10 this woman is a menace. she woke up and chose violence.

username11 DIDN’T CARLOS SAINZ RECENTLY TAKE A BREAK WITH HIS GF?? WHY IS ONE ONE TALKING ABOUT HIM (it would make sense that she’s giving hints about everyone but him)

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f1gossip BREAKING: Charles Leclerc spotted kissing mystery woman on a yacht! 🚨

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username1 WAIT... that hair length... IS THAT YN???

username2 WE FUCKING WON. IT WAS CHARLES ALL ALONG

username3 So the Red Bull stuff was just friendship? 😭

username4 what about the lando connections though?? we're so confused

tmz Sources confirm Charles Leclerc's mystery woman is NOT YN. Story developing...

username5 charles and YN would be such a power couple though 😩

username6 y’all yn is with max give it up

username7 he way this whole fandom is having a meltdown over a blurry photo 💀

username8 watch this be someone from monaco and not yn

username9 THE WAY YN HAS BEEN MIA THO

username10 YN's location right now: Los Angeles Charles' mystery girl location: Monaco. Math's not mathing besties...

username11 this is getting better than drive to survive

username12 the way we all jumped to conclusions... again 😭

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yourinstagram red era? maybe so 🌹

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username1 SHES SO MESSY

username2 MOTHER LITERALLY MOTHERING IN FERRARI RED THE SIGNS WERE THERE ALL ALONG

arianagrande my sissy 🤍🤍

username3 NAH BECAUSE WHY IS IT THE EXACT SHADE OF FERRARI RED?? CHARLES COME GET YOUR GIRL

username4 so it’s really charles huh

mtv i’ve died dead

username5 stand up if you've been personally victimized by yn's ‘guess which formula 1 driver im dating’ game

username6 we were all fighting about max vs lando meanwhile charles and yn were the real deal... mother is SNEAKY

sabrinacarpenter 😍😍😍

username7 no because the way she's been collecting all three of them like infinity stones... max's garage pics, lando's flag moment, and now serving charles' team color... queen behavior methinks

maxverstappen1 When can I come to a show?

↳ yourinstagram anytime maxie!

↳ username1 max x yn LIVESSSS

↳ username2 IM SO CONFUSED RN

landonorris Looking 😍

↳ yourinstagram ☺️

↳ username3 LANDO THATS YOUR FRIEND’S GIRL

↳ username4 she’s dating all of them that’s it

carlossainz55 Amazing color 👏

↳ username1 EVERYONE SAYING CHARLES BUT WHAT IF ITS CARLOS

↳ username2 carlos and rebecca just announced their breakup… i’m seeing something

username7 CHARLES LIKED

username8 she’s so messy i respect her for that

username9 listen… what if she’s with CARLOS

username10 i want yn to come out and say surprise i’m actually not dating any driver

liked by lewishamilton, yourinstagram and 2,033,749 others

maxverstappen1 Pre 🇲🇨 @/yourinstagram

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username1 NOT MAX POSTING HER AGAIN

username2 MOTHER??? WE WERE JUST CELEBRATING YOUR FERRARI ERA LIKE TWO HOURS AGO???

username3 the whiplash i just got... WASNT SHE JUST WEARING FERRARI RED?? MAX EXPLAIN??

redbullracing The best supporter 💙👌

username4 no because we were literally making charles wedding edits and now she's back in red bull gear... this woman is SICK

username5 THE WAY I NEVER LOST FAITH... THATS MY POWER COUPLE

username6 crying throwing up sliding down the wall she fooled us AGAIN

username7 i give up trying to guess who she’s with

username8 our dating theory timeline is in shambles. SHAMBLES.

danielricciardo 😂😂😂😂

username9 WHATS THE TRUTH

yourinstagram ☺️☺️☺️☺️

↳ username1 GIRLIE STOP

↳ username2 she’s messy and i respect her

username10 i told y’all she’s with max, he never posts ANYONE and he has posted her twice

username11 not me deleting all my charles theory threads...

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yourinstagram monaco pit stop 🏁 built half of a mclaren lego (we’ll finish it next race) and this special helmet joins my collection

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username1 GIRL COME ON

username2 the fits eat thooooo

landonorris you definitely cheated btw

↳ username1 YN AND LANDO SUPREMACY

↳ username3 this is my power couple

↳ yourinstagram you wish lannnn😌

maxverstappen1 The helmet looks better in your collection anyway 🤝

↳ username4 MAX AND YN. THATS IT

↳ username2 max is the bf come on !!!! why would the mighty max verstappen post something other than racing

↳ yourinstagram i’ll send you pictures so you don’t miss it

charles_leclerc Best country in the world, right?

↳ yourinstagram damn riiiiight

↳ username3 i cannot do this

zendaya we have some catch-up to do 👀👀

username4 dating the entire grid and i'm here for it tbh

username5 trying to keep up with her love life: 📉📈📉📈📉📈

username6 I STILL THINK IT COULD BE CARLOS SMH

mclaren That lego car better be finished by Silverstone 👀

redbullracing Our helmet game: 📈

username7 not even the social media admins know what’s going onnnn

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liked by username1, username2 and 13,049 others

ln4updates LANDO SPOTTED IN VIP AT YN'S LONDON SHOW !!!

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username1 OMFFFFGGG LANDO

username2 i'm team lando now that charles is out of the race

username3 THE WAY HE KNOWS ALL THE WORDS?? HELLO???

username4 not him wearing the unreleased merch (the cap) boyfriend behavior methinks 🤨

username5 max was busy doing community service and lando said lemme take my shot

username6 everyone calm down he probably just supporting his friend… right? RIGHT?? MAX X YN IS STILL REAL

username7 I'M STILL HURT ITS NOT CHARLES

username8 i've been a lando and yn truther since day one

username9 max wya we need you to clear something up real quick

username10 WE WON

liked by maxverstappen1, yourinstagram and 1,022,389 others

lando.jpg thats my life baby i'm a rockstar 🎶

view all comments

username1 LANDO WTFFFF

username2 HE REMEMBERED THE PASSWORD OF THIS ACCOUNT JUST TO POST HER FFS

daniel3.jpg 👀👀👀

username3 lando nation WE WON

username4 someone explain why max keeps posting her if she's with lando??

oscarpiastri Tell them about how you've been practicing your dance moves in the garage for weeks

↳ username1 DRAG HIM OSCAR

↳ username2 OSCAR JUST CONFIRMED LANDO X YN

username5 the fact he never posts this much about ANYONE..

username6 friendly reminder that max gave her his monaco helmet xx

username7 remember when she said her type was spanish… just saying

username8 HER FACE CARD THOOO

yourinstagram 🤩🤩

↳ username1 GIRL STOP THIS MADNESS

↳ username2 JUST SAY WHO IT IS

liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 1,985,328 others

carlossainz55 Now playing: Moonlit floor by @/yourinstagram 😍 Perfect song for an evening drive 🎵

view all comments

username1 NOT THISSSS

username2 CARLOS JUST ENTERED THE CHAT

username3 remember when yn changed the lyrics to "kiss me under the madrid twilight" WHAT IF IT WAS FOR CARLOS AND NOT JUST BC SHE WAS PERFORMING IN MADRID

scuderiaferrari Always the best tunes ❤️

username4 i would say it's him but he recently got out of a relationship

landonorris good taste in music 👌

↳ username5 LANDO NATION WE UP

↳ username6 i'm a lando x believer forever. it has to be HIM

↳ username7 marking his territory

username8 everyone fighting over max vs lando while carlos has been quietly winning

username9 the ferrari red was always for CARLOS not charles

username10 plot twist of the century if carlos ends up being the one

username11 lando literally went to her show last week and posted her don't push this carlos agenda now

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, landonorris and 3,099,584 others

yourinstagram grazie mille 🏎️❤️

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username1 GIRL STOP THIS MADNESS

username2 IS THIS HOW SHE SOFT LAUNCHES CARLOS IS THE ONE

username3 the way the ferrari signs were always there but we thought it was carlos

sabrinacarpenter teach me your ways sister 😂

carlossainz55 Smooth operator in training 😉

↳ username1 STOP THIS

↳ username2 I'VE JUST DIED DEAD

↳ username3 i was team lando but LOOK AT THIS MATERIAL

maxverstappen1 Traitor.

↳ username4 IM SO CONFUSED RN

↳ username5 ITS SUPPOSED TO BE YOUUUU

scuderiaferrari ❤️

charles_leclerc Smooooth

↳ username1 still devastated cause it's not charles tbh

username4 max's comment 💀 someone's jealous

username5 everyone: must be dating max or lando carlos: quietly gets her in a ferrari

username6 BUT WHAT ABOUT LANDO GOING TO HER CONCERT

username7 plot twist: she's been with carlos this whole time while we've been theorizing about max and lando

dualipa ferrari girl 😍😍😍

liked by maxverstappen1, yourinstagram and 1,984,398 others

f1 Our favorite paddock regular 🏎️ @/yourinstagram

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username1 f1 admin woke up and chose violence with this photo selection

username2 admin really said "let's cause chaos"

username3 the way this post just reset all our theories to zero 😭

username4 everyone: we finally figured out who she's dating f1 admin: hold my beer

username5 notice how comfortable she looks in mclaren colors just saying…

username6 NOT F1 ACCOUNT DROPPING THAT CARLOS X YN PIC HOLD ON

username7 max doesn't laugh like that with just anyone… just pointing that out

username8 TEAM LANDO WYA

username9 that first pic… there's history there and we all know it

username10 admin dropping these pics then turning off notifications probably

username11 the way we'll never know who it actually is 😭

landonorris still haven't forgiven her for beating my sim racing time

↳ username1 LANDOOOOO COME ON

↳ username2 he’s the one

carlossainz55 The real smooth operator

↳ username3 i’ve never been more convinced that it’s carlos

yourinstagram just doing my job keeping everyone guessing 💅

↳ username4 THE WAY SHE KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT SHE'S DOING

↳ username5 not her adding fuel to the fire with that reply 😭

↳ username6 SHE KNOWS ABOUT THE THEORIES

liked by username1, username2 and 11,976 others

f1gossip Lando Norris spotted driving a Ferrari in Monaco this morning... wait isn't this YN's car? 👀

view all comments:

username1 HELLO??? THIS IS LITERALLY YN'S CAR FROM HER INSTAGRAM LAST WEEK

username2 ok but why is he driving HER car at 7am...

username3 plot twist: carlos gave her the car but lando's the boyfriend 💀

username4 everyone thinking it was carlos when lando's been the one all along

username5 max unfollowing lando in 3...2...1...

username6 carlos giving her the car just for lando to drive it is wild

username7 YN NEVER SAID CARLOS GAVE HER THE CAR THOOOOOO

username8 the way this fandom switches teams every 2 hours 😭

username9 remember when charles was part of this theory

username10 imagine being carlos watching your car being driven by lando who's dating the girl everyone thought you were dating

username11 to be fair everyone just ASSUMED carlos gave her the car just bc it’s a ferrari

username12 MAX FIGHT BACK??

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liked by username1, username2 and 12,846 others

ynupdates YN has arrived at Las Vegas paddock ahead of the title-deciding race.

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username1 wearing neither orange nor blue… diplomatic queen

username2 WHO ARE YOU SUPPORTING

username3 imagine if your (maybe) boyfriend needs p4 to win WDC while your (maybe) other boyfriend needs a win to stay in the fight 💀

username4 the way she's probably ghosting both of them rn to stay neutral

username5 notice how she's not in either garage yet… switzerland staying neutral

username6 max about to win his 4th title while everyone's focused on her outfit choice

username7 if lando wins we're analyzing every reaction clip of her

username8 las vegas script writers really said "let's make it spicy"

username9 SHES WITH CARLOS GIVE IT UPPPP

username10 remember when we thought the dating drama was complicated and now we have CHAMPIONSHIP drama too

username11 carlos watching everyone stress while he's secured p5 in standings and got the girl

username12 istg i’m the only lewis believer

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 3,022,937 others

yourinstagram Thank you scuderiaferrari family for letting me watch this historic race from your garage. Grazie mille for always making me feel at home in red ❤️

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username1 EVERYONE: analyzing max vs lando YN: anyway here's me in ferrari red

username2 THE WAY WE WERE ALL WRONG… IT WAS CARLOS ALL ALONG

username3 she watched max become 4x WDC from… carlos's garage? 🤔

taylorswift 😍😍😍

username4 LANDO FIGHT BACK

username5 i miss when charles was part of the theory (love you alex)

troyesivan she’s an icon she’s a legend and she is the moment

username6 not her switching teams AGAIN when we finally thought we had it figured out

username7 the real winner today was carlos and we all know why

landonorris Papaya rules anyway

↳ yourinstagram 🤫

↳ username1 STOP THIS MADNESS

↳ username2 she’s dating carlando and max is her side chick

carlossainz55 Mi familia ❤️

↳ username3 i don’t know what to think anymore

username8 UM MAX NOT COMMENTING HELLO????

username9 plot twist she’s dating fred vasseur

scuderiaferarri Our favorite guest forever ❤️

username10 everyone playing chess while carlos was playing smooth operator

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 3,985,587 others

yourinstagram 2 HANDS - out this friday at midnight 🏁

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username1 NO FUCKING WAAAYY

username2 guys all the dating drama was just promo for this...

dualipa THEY'RE NOT READY 🤩🤩🤩

username3 ORANGE?? LANDO NATION WAKE UP

username4 one is carlos and the other is lando SHES DATING CARLANDO

username5 not her dropping this right after watching max's title from carlos's garage… the CHAOS

sza song of the year already

username6 sooooo it was all a pr strategy

username7 carlos watching his 2 week relationship era end: 🧍��♂️

charles_leclerc Already on repeat

↳ username1 SPILL THE BEANS YOU KNOW WHO'S THE BF

↳ username2 remember when he whas the front-runner 😭

username8 the way she had us theorizing about ferrari just to hit us with mclaren colors… she's evil for this

username9 best pre single campaign ever

maxverstappen1 😉

↳ username3 STAND TF UP AND FIGHT BACKKK

landonorris finally 🧡

↳ username4 HUUHHHHH

↳ username5 ITS LANDO ITS LANDOOOOO

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 2,096,465 others

landonorris 2 hands on me all times

view all comments

username1 CASE CLOSED

username2 LANDO WTFFFF

yourinstagram player 2 has entered the game 🎮

↳ username1 YOU SNEAKY LITTLE SHIIIT

↳ username2 end this madness now

username3 the way this isn't even subtle anymore

mclaren 👀

username4 remember when we thought it was carlos last week? 😭

username5 WHAT ABOUT MAX???? I STILL BELIEVE IT COULD BE MAX

username6 max winning WDC while these two are doing… whatever this is

oscarpiastri FINALLY THANKS

↳ username1 OSCAR MUST BE TIRED OF KEEPING THE SECRET

↳ username3 IM DYING

username7 guys don't get too confident we always end up chanfging theories lol

maxverstappen1 In my defense...

↳ username5 WHATT

↳ username6 JUST SPILL

username8 the way carlos just stopped trying lol

yourinstagram 😉

liked by username1, username2 and 14,749 others

gossiphub YN's "2 HANDS" music video premieres tomorrow. Youtube thumbnail reveals "filmed with professional racing drivers" 👀

view all comments

username1 BOYFRIEND REVEAL IN 24 HOURS WE'RE NOT READY

username2 wake up babe yn is about to break the internet again

username3 MY FINAL BET IS CARLOS

username4 plot twist: it's all of them in the video and she's just enjoying the chaos and she's not dating anyone

username5 sources say multiple f1 drivers were involved in filming… THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username6 CARLANDOYN THROUPLE REVEAL

username7 the car is orange like come one

username8 betting sites already taking "which driver appears" bets 💀

username9 imagine if after all this it's just alex albon in the video

username10 MAX I STILL BELIEVE IN YOU

username11 this might be the biggest marketing campaign i've ever seen

liked by arianagrande, landonorris and 3,986,499 others

yourinstagram 2 HANDS - official video out now. Starring the reason behind this song @/landonorris 🧡

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username1 I JUST FELL TO THE FLOOR

username2 this cover art EATS

username3 WE ACTUALLY WON??? THIS ISN'T A DRILL???

sabrinacarpenter ate and left no crumbs 🤩

username4 THE WAY SHE JUST DROPPED IT LIKE THAT NO WARNING

troyesivan I KNEW IT!!!

username5 carlos and max stans in the mud rn but respectfully

username6 carlos watching this after that ferrari garage pic: 🥲 (but happy for them fr)

username7 MAX NATION WHO ELSE IS CRYING

dualipa 🔥🔥🔥

username8 we really theorized for months just for it to be minecraft boy 😭

carlossainz55 Felicidades amigos! Also thanks for using my garage for the plot twist 😂

↳ username1 NO WAY THEY WERE ALL JUST PART OF THE GAME

↳ username2 THE WAY ITS CONFIRMED THAT THE DRIVERS JUST PLAYED ALONG

maxverstappen1 About time you two announced it. Now everyone can stop asking me in interviews 😅

↳ username3 NO FREAKING WAY

↳ landonorris sorry max we had to steal some attention from your 4th wdc ↳ yourinstagram thanks for keeping our secret max 🤫

georgerussell63 Called it since Australia! Pay up alex_albon ↳ alex_albon I was sure it was the ferrari garage thing 😫

landonorris Love you babe 😘

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 2,298,993 others

landonorris my girlfriend let me drive my car in the 2 HANDS video (yes she's my gf mystery solved xx) 🏎️🧡

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username1 I'VE DIED DEAD

username2 NOT HIM DROPPING IT LIKE THAT IM LITERALLYYYY 💀💀

username3 carlos nation we lost but at least we lost to lando

username4 everyone analyzing ferrari garage pics while these two were playing minecraft im gonna scream 😭

oscarpiastri FINALLY 🙌

mclaren We love to see it 🧡

username5 I STILL CANT BELIEVE THEY FOOLED EVERYONE

username6 carlos watching his two week relationship theory die: 👁️👄👁️

username7 how did lando noRIZZ pull her

username8 IM DEVASTATED. IT WAS MAX THE SIGNS WERE THERE

maxverstappen1 Finally I can stop pretending I don't know what theories everyone is talking about

↳ yourinstagram max you're literally the worst actor ever 😭

↳ landonorris that interview stutter was oscar worthy mate

↳ username4 so they watched us suffer and didn't do anything about it

carlossainz55 Operation distraction success 😎

↳ landonorris might've worked too well mate i got scared for a sec

↳ username1 IM DYING

username9 I KNEW IT FROM DAY ONE

georgerussell63 The paddock's worst kept secret finally out

username10 okay but can we talk about the video?? SLAYS

yourinstagram my boyfriend (yes he's the one from the theories) letting me use his car for the video 🧡 stream 2 HANDS besties xx

↳ username1 SHES A MENACE

↳ username2 the fact that she saw the theories for months and just ran with them

↳ username3 WE'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS

↳ landonorris thanks to everyone who bet on me 😘😘

[lvrclerc]

✶ 15 YEARS IN THE MAKING

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

F1 MASTERLIST | OP81 MASTERLIST

pairing: oscar piastri x childhood bff!f!reader

wc: 11.3k

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

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

soundtrack: ♫ something, somehow, someday - role model

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had been. Until almost a year ago.

And nobody knew except for him.

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

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

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

Guess he didn’t have much choice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noses. Your noses nearly touched.

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Nobody lives here.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too.”

Your face lit up. Oh no.

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

Wait, what.

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

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

“... Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Oscar Piastri is fifteen when he leaves you behind.

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

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

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

Until you wouldn’t be anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the moment passed.

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

Your hotel room was eerily quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oscar Piastri is twenty when he tells you the news.

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

And back to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I congratulated you two seconds ago!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You came. 

After everything, you were really there.

For him.

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

Oscar lasted maybe an hour.

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

The only place he wanted to be was with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, Oscar looked at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He should let go.

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

Oscar kissed girls before, but he never kissed you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t fair. Not to you.

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

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

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

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

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

For some reason, it felt like losing.

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

He had been pathetically doomed from the start.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oscar dashed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… guessed.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

“Did you forget how to talk, Osc’?”

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

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

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cheftsunoda]

hiii!

I love your writing sooo much and I just had an idea for a story with Lando (if you write for him)

The idea came to me when I was watching one of his interviews in which he gets asked if he likes cats or dogs and he says that he's DEFINITELY a dog person and hates cats (which should be a crime imo)

Anyway I was wondering if you could write a story in which the reader LOVEEEES cats and Lando likes reader a lot but they tell him that they refuse to date someone who doesn’t like cats so Lando tries to charm/befriend their cat/cats

nine lives — ln4

lando norris x !cat lover reader

smau + blurbs

You’ve always said you could forgive many things in a relationship—bad taste in music, questionable cooking, even the occasional forgotten anniversary. But not liking cats? Unforgivable. Which is why, when a clip of Lando—your boyfriend of almost a year—where he boldly declares “I just don’t trust cats. They stare at you like they’re plotting your death.”, your phone practically explodes with notifications. And right in the middle of your peaceful Sunday morning, curled up in bed with four purring furballs and one very smug grey baby sprawled on your chest, Lando walks into the room holding his phone like it’s ticking.

“They’re all sending me this video,” he says, deadpan. “And now half the internet thinks we’re about to break up because I disrespected Mister Whiskers the Third.”

You blink at him. “You did. And you disrespected me.”

And that’s when he sighs—loudly, dramatically—and looks your cats in the eye like he’s facing his greatest challenge yet.

“I guess I’m gonna have to win them over, huh?”

fc : random pinterest girlies

(a/n) : hi babyyyyyy. thanks for the love:) i am a huge cat person so this was very fun for me to write. my cat was stepping on my keyboard keys as i was literally trying to type it out. LMAOOO

ALSO NOT MY DUMBASS HAVING THIS EDITED AND READY FOR TWO DAYS AND NOT REALIZING. IM SO SORRY.

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lando’s ‘undercover’ GQ interview — 6/23/2025

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It starts innocently enough. You’re lounging on the couch in your sunlit living room, a tabby curled against your hip, a calico stretched across your feet, and your ancient, grumpy Persian—Count Meowcula—curled up like a loaf of bread on the coffee table. Lando is still asleep upstairs, likely tangled in the duvet with his mouth slightly open and hair sticking up like a dandelion. You’re scrolling through your phone when the first tag pops up.

@/username000 : NOT LANDO SAYING HE HATES CATS 💀💀💀 @/yourusername come get your man pls

You furrow your brows and click the link.

It’s a recent clip, from the GQ interview he just did the other day. The interviewer shows him an old clip of himself.

And the younger Lando on the video, without missing a beat, replies with boyish arrogance, “Dogs, obviously. Cats are evil. I don’t trust them. They just sit there and judge you.”

Your jaw drops a little. “Excuse me?”

He goes on—oh, he goes on.

“They’re always knocking things off tables. Like, why? For what reason? I could never live with a cat. I’d be on edge all the time.”

You blink at the screen, stunned. A moment later, your mentions erupt like fireworks.

@/username00 : so like… yn owns FIVE cats and lando said THIS?????

@/username0 : the betrayal. the slander. does Count Meowcula know??

@/username1 : if my man ever said this about cats i’d simply let them scratch his eyes out 😭

You let out a little laugh—half horrified, half amused—and glance around the room. As if sensing drama, your youngest cat, a tiny grey kitten named Pickles, climbs onto your lap and stares directly into your phone screen like she’s reading the replies.

“I know,” you murmur to her. “He’s got some explaining to do.”

Almost on cue, heavy footsteps pad down the stairs. You hear a yawn, then a groggy voice.

“Morning…” Lando steps into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He’s in one of your hoodies and a pair of mismatched socks, hair a complete mess.

You swivel your phone toward him, the video paused on the exact moment he says, “Cats are evil.”

He squints. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Lando flops face first onto the couch beside you, groaning into a throw pillow. “I was, like, twenty! I didn’t know better!”

“The internet disagrees.” You smirk, holding your phone up as notifications keep pouring in. “You’ve got approximately two million cat lovers and a grumpy Count Meowcula very disappointed in you.”

Lando turns his head, eyes squinting at the Persian cat who is, indeed, staring at him with an expression of utter betrayal.

“I told him it was an old interview,” you say solemnly. “He doesn’t care.”

“I’ll never earn his forgiveness, will I?”

“Not unless you make amends.”

He sits up dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Then I have no choice. I must… bond with the cats.”

“Oh?” you tease. “The same cats who are evil? The ones you can’t trust?”

“I was young! I was foolish!” He throws himself at your feet in mock agony. “Please, my love, allow me to prove myself to you—and to Pickles. And to Mr. Whiskers. And… Count Meowcula.” He pauses.

“God, why do they all sound like retired supervillains?”

“Because they are.”

Pickles meows at him, unimpressed. Lando slowly sits back up, adjusting his hoodie and patting his lap. “Alright. I’m ready. Send me your softest warrior.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“I’m ready to face the consequences of my words,” he says solemnly. “Bring me the cats.”

One by one, like some ceremonial trial, the cats are introduced. Pickles curls up beside him without protest. Mr. Whiskers claws his leg once, just for good measure, and then lays on his foot. Count Meowcula eyes him for a solid three minutes before climbing onto his lap and promptly falling asleep.

You grab your phone and take a picture of the scene—Lando sitting stiff as a board, surrounded by cats, one paw resting over his knee like a warning.

Moments later, the tweet goes viral. The top reply?

@/alex_albon : petition for Lando to do a cat photoshoot in apology form.

You grin and show it to him.

“Absolutely not,” Lando mutters as Mr. Whiskers licks his hand. “Okay. Maybe. Only if I get to wear the little ears too.”

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yourusername

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 1,201,005 others.

yourusername : should i leave this muppet because he doesn’t like my babies?

tagged : lando

—

view 72,075 other comments.

alex_albon : yes. absolutely. dump him. lily and i will take you and your cats in.

liked by yourusername and lilymhe

↳ yourusername : omw to the albon farm where me and my 5 children will be APPRECIATED.

liked by alex_albon and lilymhe

↳ lando : HEY HEY WE DO NOT HAVE TO GO THIS FAR

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : i am like the cat whisperer now. ask pickles.

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : you screamed when mr whiskers jumped up on the couch behind you. mans was just existing.

liked by alex_albon

↳ lando : HE STARTLED ME.

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1 : leave him. now. i want to see him walking down the road with one of those hobo sacks.

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : OH MY GOD. YOU ARE ALL SO OVERDRAMATIC. I WAS YOUNG.

↳ maxverstappen1 : do not care. you still said it.

liked by yourusername

username00 : i take it he is still in alot of trouble yn

↳ yourusername : oh yes. very much so. sleeping on the couch currently.

liked by maxverstappen1 and alex_albon

↳ maxverstappen1 : make him sleep on the sidewalk.

liked by yourusername and username00

lando : I AM SORRY BABYYYYY DO NOT LEAVE ME. I NEED YOU AND YOUR 5 CHILDREN.

liked by yourusername

alexandrasaintmleux : leave lando. not bc of the cat thing but just so you can date me😻

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : ALEX. OUT. DO NOT TRY TO WIN OUT ON MY MISFORTUNE.

liked by yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

oscarpiastri : I, for one, stand for feline rights. #teampickles

liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc: just wait til she has a conversation with zhou about this…

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, yourusername and zhouguanyu24

↳ zhouguanyu24 : oh i already know and sweetcorn and i are offended deeply

↳ lando : BROOOOOOOO

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f1gossipgirls

liked by yourusername and 1,100,100 others.

f1gossipgirls : Lando on live tonight with YN’s kitten Pickles!

tagged : lando and yourusername

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view 175,007 other comments.

username000 : pickles pawing him in the head killed me #teampickles

liked by yourusername

username00 : @/yourusername you are so powerful. he went from hating cats to calling pickles his son in a matter of a week

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : that’s what good pussy does…bad joke?

liked by lando and username00

username0 : pickles had more screen time than max 😭

liked by yourusername and maxfewtrell

username1 : HE DID THE BABY VOICE AWWWWW

liked by yourusername

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The stream wasn’t even supposed to happen. It started because Max texted Lando “go live you coward I miss your face”, and then fifteen minutes later Lando was setting up his webcam while you sat cross legged on the couch, cradling Pickles in your lap like royalty. You had no intention of being on camera—until Pickles decided to launch himself from your arms and climb straight up Lando’s hoodie mid-intro.

“AH—oh my god—HE’S IN MY SHIRT,” Lando yelps, half-laughing, half-panicking, while you scramble into frame trying to extract the tiny menace from his hood. The comments explode instantly.

@/username0000 : IS THAT PICKLES??

@/username000: this is already the best stream of the year

You finally wrestle the kitten free and sit down beside Lando, both of you breathless from laughing. Pickles, smug as ever, curls into a perfect ball on Lando’s shoulder like he owns the place.

“He’s… decided to stay,” Lando mutters, eyes wide. “I’m not moving for the rest of the stream.”

“That’s called growth,” you tease. “You used to call him a demon.”

“I still think he is,” Lando says. “He’s just my demon now.”

Then Max joins the call. And everything goes downhill.

“Oi,” Max says, grinning into his camera. “Am I interrupting domestic bliss?”

“Pickles almost crawled into my ribcage five minutes ago,” Lando replies. “So yes, but it’s fine.”

You wave at Max. “Hi Max. I saved your best friend from a feline induced death.”

“Legend,” Max says with a wink. “Though if Pickles had finished the job, I’d finally win our Fantasy league.”

Lando flips him off. The chat goes wild. Over the next half hour, it descends into total chaos. Lando’s trying to game, Max is throwing shade, and you’re in the background trying to keep Pickles from knocking over an open can of Monster with the energy of a feral toddler. At one point a conversation sparks.

Max started. “So YN, how many cats is too many cats?”

You thought for a moment. ”Hypothetically?”

“Yeah.”

“Ten.”

Lando spits out his drink, “TEN?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying. We have the space.”

Max laughed. “This is how it starts. First it’s one kitten, next thing you know, you’re on a reality show called My Strange Addiction..’”

You laughed, “I’d watch my episode.”

Lando sighed heavily, “Don’t give her ideas, she’s already been measuring out a catio for the balcony.”

The chat is unhinged at this point.

@/username11: lando is literally becoming the cat dad he swore he’d never be and I love it

Then Pickles decides to crawl back onto Lando’s lap mid game, and instead of pushing him off, Lando just says, “Okay okay buddy, you can sit there, just don’t touch the mouse—”

Immediately, Pickles touches the mouse. Lando loses the round. Max howls laughing.

“I’ve been sabotaged,” Lando groans. “By my own child.”

You hand him a tiny sweater. “He earned this.”

Lando holds up the sweater to the camera—soft knit, neon orange, a little lightning bolt stitched across the back.

“It’s giving superhero sidekick,” Max says. “He needs a cape.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you say, already pulling out your phone to text your Etsy supplier.

By the end of the stream, Pickles is asleep on Lando’s chest, purring, and Lando’s stroking his tiny head absentmindedly while bickering with Max about who cheated in karting back in 2015.

“He’s so gone,” Max mouths into the camera, pointing at Lando, who doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy whispering, “You’re my best mate, but if you ever touch my mouse again, I swear—” to a literal sleeping kitten.

The final shot before the stream ends? Lando kissing the top of Pickles’ head without even realizing he’s doing it. The comments explode. And the clip goes viral.

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You come home expecting the usual—a trail of cat toys on the stairs, a half consumed cup of Lando’s coffee on the kitchen counter, and Pickles dramatically lounging in your spot on the couch. What you don’t expect is Lando standing in the hallway with his hands behind his back and the guiltiest grin on his face.

“What did you do?” you ask instantly.

“Why do you assume I did something?” he replies, rocking on his heels.

“You only smile like that when you’ve either crashed a scooter or spent a suspicious amount of money.”

“I prefer the term invested.”

You narrow your eyes. “Lando…”

He takes your hand. “Okay. Just… come with me.”

He leads you to the balcony, practically vibrating with excitement. The sliding doors are already open, and the cats are pacing back and forth like they know something’s up. And then you see it. A catio.

Not just any catio. A custom, multi-level, architectural wonderland that stretches across half the balcony. There’s a tunnel system, clear bubble pods for sunbathing, platforms shaped like trophies, and tiny nameplates engraved for each cat. At the top—of course—is Count Meowcula, looking down on his kingdom like he’s about to demand taxes.

You blink. “Lando. What the hell is this?”

“It’s a Catio 2.0,” he says proudly. “Designed it with a guy from Reddit. Don’t ask how much it cost.”

You turn to him, stunned.

“And this?” you say, gesturing to the racing stripe hammock that literally says “PICKLES’ PAD.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Okay that part was my idea. And the tiny pit wall.”

There is a tiny pit wall. You burst out laughing, hand over your mouth. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He shrugs, pulling you into a hug. “You said they deserved fresh air and enrichment. And I figured… if I’m gonna be a cat dad, I might as well go all in.”

You lean up and kiss him, dizzy with love. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he grins. “But you love me anyway.”

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

It started as a joke. You were scrolling through Instagram with Lando one night, curled up on the couch while Pickles aggressively kneaded his thigh. Zhou had just posted yet another selfie with Sweetcorn, his fluffy, spoiled cat, perched on his shoulder like a queen.

Lando squinted at the screen. “I’m starting to think Zhou loves that cat more than he loves people.”

You smirked. “I respect it. Honestly, I love sweetcorn too.”

“Okay, weird. But what if we got him, like… a Sweetcorn pillow?” Lando said, half joking, half serious.

You stared at him. “Wait. That’s actually genius.”

Two weeks later, the package arrives.

A two foot long plush pillow—an eerily accurate, almost too realistic version of Sweetcorn, down to the slightly tilted ears and smug expression. You nearly cry laughing when you pull it out of the box. Lando holds it up like he’s presenting Simba.

“We’ve peaked,” he declares. “This is our legacy.”

You’re both waiting outside the Ferrari hospitality unit when Zhou walks up, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, completely unprepared.

Lando grins. “Got you a present.”

Zhou raises a brow. “What’d you do?”

Then you pull the pillow out from behind your back and hold it up proudly.

Zhou stops. Blinks. Takes off his sunglasses in slow motion.

“You did not.”

“Oh, we did,” you laugh. “Meet… travel-sized Sweetcorn.”

Zhou stares at the pillow, mouth open, completely speechless. Then, without a word, he drops his coffee and takes the pillow in his arms like a long lost child.

“I’m never sleeping alone again,” he says.

Lando bursts out laughing. “We made it extra squishy so you’d get maximum cuddle support.”

Zhou is still cradling the pillow, already doing voices— “‘Who needs anyone when I’ve got you, Sweetcorn 2.0.’”

You snap a picture of him holding the pillow like a baby, and before long it’s all over social media.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

lando

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 4,001,008 others.

lando : i have made amends with all the cat people in my life. built a catio, traveled to the albon farm and got zhou a mini sweetcorn. and i can say i finally understand why max broke down the door for his cat children.

tagged : alex_albon, yourusername, maxverstappen1 and zhouguany24

—

view 175,001 other comments.

yourusername : this is the man i love. covered in cat hair.

liked by lando

lando : god i hate how i will do literally anything for you

liked by yourusername

yourusername : love you lannnnnnn

liked by lando

maxverstappen1 : and id break ten more doors.

liked by yourusername and lando

alex_albon : you still flinched when one of ours sneezed but we made progress so idc

liked by yourusername and lando

zhouguanyu24 : mini sweetcorn sleeps beside me every night. nothing will ever top this gift.

liked by yourusername and lando

yukitsunoda0511 : yn!! do you think we can get him to go to the cat cafe in tokyo??

liked by yourusername

lando : no

yourusername : if you love me you will

liked by yukitsunoda0511

lando : GOD damnit

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

[vievecorcityevents]

A New Year brings about new beginnings, or at least that was what the supernatural community in Vievecor City was hoping for. As the day starts on January 1st, everyone receives an email in their mailboxes, one that everyone thinks is another edition of the monthly gazette. But when the message is opened, the supernatural community is confronted with the following...

A distorted voice sounds inside your mind that instills fear in anyone who listens... As the voice speaks, clips from surveillance cameras show supernatural attacks on humans. The clips show a demon draining a human of their soul, a werewolf attacking a lonely person in a park, and finally the Artemis follower who was tortured and glamoured into killing themselves by Izak Vörös. "Vampires… Werewolves… Demons… Supernaturals. You think you are invincible, untouchable, unbreakable. You think you can take, that you can kill, and go unpunished. You thought we wouldn’t notice. Or perhaps you thought no one would care. Too long have your acts gone unpunished. Too long have innocent lives been lost because of an imbalance of power. We won’t let these crimes slide. There is no bliss in ignorance. We won’t be kept silent. There is no justice if no one judges. We won’t be stopped. There is no safety in numbers. We will come for you all." The clips are changed to videos of supernaturals being attacked, including Naz Ulusoy’s house burning down, the kidnappings that happened over a year ago, and the incident at the Art Gallery. After the last clip ends, the video fades to black and the familiar symbol of Artemis flickers on the screen before it cuts off...

OOC:

Happy New Year! Here is a gift from Artemis' followers~ As far as the supernaturals and the various species elders know, finding the source of Artemis has proven extremely difficult in the past months. It becomes clearer and clearer over time that these individuals might not even be properly following her anymore, some of whom are even using her name to push their own agendas.

What can one decipher from this message? Are you able to find any clues? Does this message seem like it could be coming from within?

Players are welcome and encouraged to speculate...

[lucidwntrr]

심재윤 ───〃 UNRAVEL ME

"jake’s eyes blink open, making eye contact with you through the mirror before his eyes find himself, taking the sight in. his hair tousled, face painted a lovely shade of pink, glistening from the sweat, and his cock that was leaking all over your hand and onto the bedsheets. he almost can’t believe his eyes, can’t believe that he can look so pornographic."

── synopsis: your puppy boyfriend just wants you touch him, is that too much to ask?

⋆˚꩜｡ pairing: sub!jake x dom!reader ⋆˚꩜｡ genre & word count: smut || 2.3k ⋆˚꩜｡ tags: porn without plot (i’ll write plot one day), light choking, handjobs, teasing, marking, there’s a mirror, multiple orgasms, praise, begging, light nipple play, puppy!jake ˚꩜｡ notes: first enha fic and yes, it is of my bias. hopefully everyone enjoys reading as much as i enjoyed writing (˶˃ ᗜ ˂˶)

“shit…” jake breaths, his head tilting back to rest against your shoulder.

you had him sat on the bed, legs spread, with his t-shirt hanging loosely around his sweaty neck. you watch as a tiny bead rolls down it, almost tempted to lick it up.

“mmph, p-please.” jake gasps, jerking his hips up into nothing. you’re positioned behind him, also on your knees, massaging every part of his body you could reach.

jake being pretty much sensitive everywhere is an advantage to you, a single caress from you could have him melting and pleading in seconds. you weren’t even anywhere close to touching his cock, touching anywhere but, yet there’s already a pool of precum on the sheets below him.

“please, what?” you whisper into his ear, gently biting on it. jake’s breath hitches at hearing your voice, so seductive and close to him, almost tickling him. his hands are fisted into the sheets, arms feeling like jelly and hardly holding him up.

“more, please touch me more,” he begs, looking up at you with his beautiful eyes. “i’ll do anything if you just give me more.”

you oblige, only to an extent, a sucker for when he looks at you like that. you slowly run your fingertips over his shoulders and down his arms. moving across his chest and briefly brushing past a nipple, jake arching into the touch with a tingle down his spine.

you attach your lips to his sensitive neck, lightly sucking on the skin so it leaves behind a hickey. jake starts panting out breaths, his eyes squeezing shut as he squirms in his spot, his cock bobbing uncontrollably. his moans are almost nonstop, raising in pitch the longer you suck.

“fuck me.” he huffs, becoming impatient with your teasing. he drops his head and reaches a hand down to between his legs, wanting relief from his aching hard-on.

you watch him and right before he could wrap his fingers around himself, you gently tug on the shirt around his neck. jake’s hand pauses in mid air and he gasps at the slight, sudden pressure on his throat.

you pull his head back, his brown eyes wide and blinking up at you, an apology already on the tip of his tongue. you speak before he can get his words out,

“did you ask if you could touch yourself?” you question, letting go of the shirt and opting to brush the wet strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. jake sighs at the touch, shaking his head no and resting his hand on his thigh.

“‘m sorry, i wasn’t thinking. i just want to feel good…” he whispers.

“needy puppy just couldn’t help himself, hm?” you tease instead. jake rapidly nods his head with a moan at being called his favorite pet-name. it draws your attention to his lips, wet from all the licking and damn near drooling he’s been doing and you can’t help but want to kiss them.

“mhm, just a dumb puppy when you touch me.” he agrees. you hum in agreement, guiding his head further back, his back curving to follow your movement. you lean down and press a quick kiss to his lips, jake eagerly chasing after you with a whine when you pull away. with a smirk, you kiss him again deeper this time, forcing his mouth open with your tongue.

he leans into the kiss, moaning into your mouth the angle making it slightly messy and wet. only parting ways to allow yourself to remove jake’s shirt fully, now bothersome to you as you want to reveal more of him. his whines from having your lips on his anymore quickly turn into whimpers as you latch yourself there, leaving more reddish-purple marks along the freshly exposed skin.

no matter how much the pleasure got though, jake refused to even attempt to touch himself again. instead he’d just buck into the air with a sweet cry, or the occasional shout when you bit just a little harder than he’s used to.

“please… can you please touch me there now?” jake whispers once he can’t stand it anymore, his cock red and hot from being denied for so long. the puddle larger than when you started from where he still leaks.

“touch you where love?” you ask just to wind him up more, peaking over his shoulder and watching as another bead of precum rolls down the tip when you softly pinch his nipple between your fingers.

“please, you know where. just touch me.” he frustratedly whines, thrusting his cock up into nothing, his way of saying what he wants. you smile and wrap an arm around his waist and run your fingers down it, softly grazing your fingernails up and down them. you feel as he tenses and shake every time you get closer to his cock and his breathing deepens, watching as your hands tease him.

“you mean here?” you ask, catching him off guard by suddenly grabbing his cock. using your thumb to rub over the wet and sensitive frenulum, causing jake’s breath to hitch and uncontrollably thrust his hips into the touch.

“yes, f-fuck yes!” jake practically cries. you laugh and stroke once just to watch jake’s face turn into one of pure bliss at finally getting what he wants, his brows furrowing before dropping his head from the intensity, loud moans pouring out.

you slowly stroke him, smoothly gliding over his cock with the copious amounts of precum that drip down it. you are sure to rub the sensitive tip with each stroke down, jake shuddering every time to your amusement. each stroke leaving behind obscene wet sounds that fill the room along with jakes’ filthy noises.

“is this what you wanted, hm? what you were begging me for?” you purr, already knowing the answer but just want to watch jake struggle to find his words. purposely stroking faster each time jake tries to speak, choking on his words.

“god yes, feels s-so good..” he manages to moan out, voice cracking towards the end of his sentence. you can only smirk at the broken reply, basking in the way that his body reacts to every little thing you do to him, the control you have over him.

his head cocks back towards you, landing on your shoulder once again on a particularly rough stroke, his eyes pressed shut in absolute bliss. “feels so good, please don’t stop..” he mindlessly chants, almost faint if he wasn’t right by your ear.

you look up and do a double-take at the mirror you recently bought, sitting in front of the bed. you look back at jake with an idea. gently, you take jake’s chin into your unoccupied hand and drop his head towards said mirror. the image is lewd, way his face looks, the way his lips are parted spilling out all kinds of sounds just for you. the sight leaves a throbbing feeling down below.

“look at yourself love. i’ve hardly done anything to you, yet you’re so ruined.” you murmur, watching him through the mirror.

jake’s eyes blink open, making eye contact with you through the mirror before his eyes find himself, taking the sight in. his hair tousled, face painted a lovely shade of pink, glistening from the sweat, and his cock that was leaking all over your hand and onto the bedsheets. he almost can’t believe his eyes, can’t believe that he can look so disheveled.

“’s too embarrassing…” he whines, shutting his eyes and shoving his face into the crook of your neck and hiding from himself. he can’t get the image of how he looked out of his head though, cock twitching in slight interest.

however, as soon as his eyes close, you stop touching him. he immediately whines against your skin, moving his hips in attempt to feel good again. to his dismay, you use your other hand to hold his hip in place in which jake huffs, “why’d you stop, please keep going.”

“i said look at yourself.” was your only reply, stern enough that it was all that needed to be said. jake whimpers before turning back towards the mirror, his breathing comes quick as looks at himself again.

“you’re so pretty jake… so good for me,” you whisper in his ear while making eye contact with him through the mirror. he shivers and his cock pulses at the praise. slowly, you wrap a hand around him and start stroking him again, keeping a teasing pace that you know will drive him mad. “don’t you agree, aren’t you pretty?” you question.

there was no fight when he nodded in agreement, “yes, so pretty for you,” he whines and his eyes start to flutter shut as the pleasure starts to build again from the compliment. you squeeze his cock in disapproval, earning a choked breath from jake.

“ah ah, keep those pretty eyes open for me,” you purr. his eyes fly open, immediately locking eyes with you in the reflection. “unless you want me to stop?” you finish quirking a brow, pausing your hand where it rests on the base of his cock and squeezing it.

“no, no please keep going. i won’t close my eyes, promise.” he pleads, eyes watery and hips trying to chase the pleasure he was feeling. you hum and hold him to his word and also keeping your word and stopping if his eyes start to flutter.

“good boy, you’re doing great.” you praise, bringing your other hand up from his waist, up his stomach, to his chest where you fondle his perked nipples.

jake loudly gasp, the touch bringing him to the edge and he immediately starts sighing out a string of apologies. you didn’t understand what for until you feel his body tense up and warmth as he cums all over your hand.

“’m sorry, ‘m s-sorry, i didn’t mean to cum…” he babbles after he starts to come down, his head to fuzzy after such a strong orgasm. you examine his face in the mirror where you find his eyes closed, lashes wet from the tears that lined them.

“cumming without permission and closing your eyes…” you tsk. jake jumps coming, his head clearing enough for him to realize his eyes were in fact closed and opening them to the displeased look on your face. before he can begin apologizing clearly, you stroke his sensitive cock with no remorse. jake yelps, twisting his body in an attempt an escape the intense overstimulation.

“wait- p-please ‘m sorry… please.” he chokes out between moans, moans that settle between pain and pleasure and he’s not sure which to fall into. the sensitivity is almost too much, fresh tears spring to his eyes and falling against his flush cheeks.

“you just couldn’t help yourself? is that what you’re going to say?” you mock, bringing both hands onto him and ruthlessly bringing him towards another orgasm. as much as jake wanted his body to run away it, he was chasing it, wanting to keep feeling good. so good.

“i- i couldn’t. it felt too good, you’re too good…” he cries. the pain turning to desire as he starts to move his hips. desperately, he fucks into your hands and you don’t even have move them, using your fists to his hearts content.

“’s too much, too much … fuck.” he whimpers aimlessly, words slurring together. he’s so far gone in arousal, he doesn’t even realize he’s the one moving, movements getting sloppier as he gets closer to cumming. his eyes glued shut and his fingers digging into the flesh of his thigh, lips slick with saliva and red as he keeps biting down on them.

you can’t help but to take it all in, how good he looks completely ruined from your hands. how noisy he gets whenever he feels too good. you shift into a more comfortable position as your shorts have gotten progressively wetter as you watch jake wreck himself.

“i-i think ‘m gonna cum..” jake pants, looking at you for approval. he just looks so pretty, a complete mess from a little handjob that you can’t bring yourself to deny him. he’s trembling, using everything he has to hold back his orgasm until you give him permission, how cute.

“cum for me,” you whisper. jake preens and whispers small thank you’s, driving his cock into your grip. his breathing is almost erratic as his orgasm builds to the peak. drawling out praises in his ear, leading him on.

“fuck, i’m gonna - i’m cummi-” he announces, before hiccuping on his words. his whole body quivering as he cums for the second time, more intense than the first. he thrusts his hips roughly into your hands, spraying hot cum everywhere. endless moans streaming out as he rides out his orgasm.

he eventually comes back down, hissing when he pulls his cock from your fists, his breathing slow but heavy and his hands finally releases his clutch on his thigh. he left behind little fingernail imprints from how hard he held on. he swallows, mouth dry from the nonstop noises and opens his eyes to look at you with a dopey smile on his face.

“i don’t know how you always manage to fuck me up like that…” he says with so much admiration in his puppy eyes.

you laugh, pressing a kiss to his sweaty temple. jake contentedly hums, pressing his weight against your chest, getting comfortable and you know that you’re going to be here a while.

©lucidwntrr est. 2025

[hamdeokcomplex]

[plot drop] uma tão esperada viagem - rumo ao méxico!

A animação estava no ar enquanto o relógio se aproximava das 21h. O ônibus, já com os motores ligados, esperava pela partida rumo ao aeroporto em seus respectivos países. O destino agora não era mais um sonho distante, mas a realidade de um evento mundial que todos aguardam por meses ou até mesmo anos, uma preparação de uma vida inteira. Para os atletas, essa viagem não era apenas um deslocamento físico, mas também emocional – um marco em suas vidas.

Os atletas convocados para representar seus países estão cheios de energia, com os olhos brilhando e a mente focada no grande objetivo. Algumas conversas em grupo, sorrisos e risos podem ser ouvidos no interior do ônibus. As expectativas estão altas, afinal para muitos, é uma chance única de mostrar ao mundo para o que haviam treinado por toda a sua vida.

Os atletas das delegações estrangeiras, alguns ainda emocionados pela despedida de seus países, já se acomodam nos seus respectivos lugares nos ônibus. O voo para o México será longo e as delegações estavam cientes de que, ao chegarem, a Vila Olímpica teriam uma rotina ainda mais rigorosa de treinamentos e claro, competições. A segurança e o controle eram primordiais para garantir que nada interferisse nos compromissos esportivos.

— Não podemos esquecer das regras, pessoal. As autoridades olímpicas e os comitês nacionais estão de olho. Nada de saídas sem permissão! — alertou um dos responsáveis pela organização das delegações. Uma mensagem repetida por todas as delegações dos mais diferentes países.

Cada um de vocês sabe que as Olimpíadas não são apenas sobre competição. É uma vitrine para o mundo, uma oportunidade de representar sua nação e de conquistar o respeito global, mas também envolve sacrifícios. Os atletas que viajam com suas delegações se preparam para viver com um alto nível de disciplina. Sabem que, ao chegarem no México, seus comitês olímpicos estarão atentos a cada movimento, por isso, cuidado com o que vocês decidirem fazer por lá! 

Atletas, uma vez na Vila Olímpica, encontrarão um local realmente preparado para as demandas de atletas, reformado para esbanjar na cara dos franceses como se organiza um evento. Todas as camas são como as de hotéis de luxo e os apartamentos são espaçosos e confortáveis, de forma que vocês, atletas, não sentirão falta de nada e terão a oportunidade perfeita de representarem os seus países com tamanho orgulho sem se preocupar com coisas menores. 

À medida que o ônibus sai de seus complexos, Gangnam Olympic Park, Yamashita Sports Institute, Tiansheng Training Complex, Sukhumvit Elite Training Center e Taipei Sports Club, a realidade do maior evento esportivo do planeta está prestes a começar se torna palpável. O México os aguarda, atletas. Esse é o momento de dar tudo de si e ultrapassar seus próprios limites, o mundo todo está de olho em vocês. Vocês estão prontos para fazer parte da história? 

INFORMAÇÕES OOC 

Olá, atletas! Voilá! Eis o nosso plot drop para a viagem para o México, Guadalajara! Vocês também estão ansiosos? Nós estamos e para deixar isso tudo um pouco mais simples, criamos aqui nesse LINK um Itinerário de Viagem para todos os atletas que vão viajar nessa primeira leva!

Os ônibus saem do complexo onde vocês estão às 21h em ponto até os respectivos aeroportos! Se os horários estiverem confusos, por favor, relevem, tentamos ajustar para o mais próximo possível da realidade, mas as Barbies ainda são de humanas~

ATENÇÃO: para o horário de chegada, considerem o horário de MOKPO que está no final de cada itinerário! A diferença de horário é de 15 horas! Então a maioria chega só amanhã durante a noite, com exceção do pessoal da Tailândia, que chega apenas na segunda-feira às 4h.

No avião tem WIFI, considerem que é um pouco ruim, mas vocês conseguem interagir com seus colegas durante as horas de voo, se desejarem!

Um pouco antes deles chegarem em Guadalajara vamos divulgar a lista de dormitórios, mas não se preocupem, pois vocês vão dividir com quem for do esporte de vocês, também para facilitar para as comissões olímpicas.

Por enquanto é isso pessoal, esperamos que aproveitem a viagem e estejam prontos para nossas Olimpíadas!

Ao pessoal que ainda está no Hamdeok, por favor, NÃO viagem sozinhos, vamos ter um drop especial para vocês também com um voo marcado para terça-feira (15/04), nesse mesmo esquema! 

Qualquer dúvida, nossa DM/Ask estão abertas!

Um beijão das Barbies~