#yuki drabble | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

multicohn · 2 months ago

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summary: isack thought that being brought into formula one meant that he would have a new teammate and potential mentor. what he didn't expect was to be adopted by yuki and his girlfriend

warnings: cursing ( duh ), violence / threats ( in a joking way )

pairing: fem! reader x yuki tsunoda ( romantic ), fem! reader x yuki tsunoda x isack hadjar ( platonic )

genre: smau fluff, comfort, established relationship ( reader x yuki )

face claim: no one in particular, just random couples off pinterest

author note: i miss them so much

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youruser

seen by landonorris and more

user: MY PARENTS ARE FINALLY REUNITED

user: mama y papa

user: WE MISSED YOU IN THE PADDOCK QUEEN

landonorris: drop the location 👀

| youruser: they have a tank full of fish.

| landonorris: IM MOR SCARED OF FISH I JUST DONT LIKE EATING THEM

| youruser: yeah okay

yukitsunoda0511: shayla?

| youruser: it’s a tiktok thing, i’ll show you later

| yukitsunoda0511: okay

| yukitsunoda0511: and i missed you too baby 💖

| youruser: 🥹

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youruser

liked by pierregasly and others

youruser: home is where the heart is or whatever this say

( tagged: yukitsunoda0511 & isackhadjar )

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user: THEYRE SO CUTE

user: yuki is so bf coded

| youruser: I KNOW I START TO CRY OVER HIM but then i remember that i can cry TOO HIM

| user: you’re so real for that

francisca.cgomes: favs ❤️

| youruser: i luv luv u

user: MY PARENTS FOR REAL

isackhadjar: it was nice meeting you

| youruser: it was nice meeting you too!

user: not isack being a third wheel LMAO

liamlawson30: thank god i don’t have to see you’s acting all lovey dovey anymore

| youruser: kys

| liamlawson30: ON THE MAIN ACCOUNT????

yukitsunoda0511: my love

( see translation )

| youruser: love when you whip out the japanese

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youruser

seen by redbullracing and more

redbullracing: max would like to have a word about that…

| youruser: swear at him

| redbullracing: i fear of being fired

| youruser: tell him to message me himself

| redbullracing: 🫡

user: ISACK BEING YUKIS FRID KIDNOMG 😭😭

yukitsunoda0511: really

| youruser: LOOK AT THE WAY YOURE LOOKING AT HIM

| yukitsunoda0511: i was looking at you actually

| youruser: oakansk

user: tbh, now im kinda glad they didn’t promote him cause i would’ve missed out on this duo

maxverstappen1: 🤨

| youruser: you’re just using them as test dummies.

| maxverstappen1: THIS IS DEFAMATION

| youruser: aw max i didn’t know you knew such a big word 🥺

| maxverstappen1: give him back

| youruser: YOU HAVE 5 OTHERS

| maxverstappen1: I HAD 6 TO START WITH

| youruser: GO AWAY

| youruser: IM TELLING KELLY ON YOU

isackhadjar: 🥹

| youruser: 🫂

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youruser

liked by visacashapprb and others

youruser: JAPAN I LOVE YOU

( tagged: yukitsunoda0511 )

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youruser: MY BABY GOT P3

youruser: HE WAS ON THE PODIUM

youruser: MY YUKI

youruser: SOBBING STILL

youruser: ALSO ISACK P5 🥳🥳👏 congrats isackhadjar

user: yuki tearing up while being up there and then seeing y/n crying her heart out got me

user: it was long overdue

user: YODIUM

user: AND IT WAS AT HIS HOME RACE

user: y/n is so real for mentioning isack

| user: THIS HE DROVE INCREDIBLY

user: isack and y/n hugging while celebrating yuki — THATS HIS FAMILY UOUR HONOUR

yukitsunoda0511: i couldn’t have done it without.

| youruser: MY PODIUM DRIVER GUYS

| youruser: i love you so much

isackhadjar: thanks y/n! hopefully we can be on the podium together at some stage

| youruser: you’s definitely will! hoping it doesn’t take that long

| isackhadjar: you and me both 😅

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youruser

seen by visacashapprb and more

user: 3 RACES??? LETS GO

user: please don’t separate them 🙏

user: wonder if isack is with them

| youruser: he is!

| user: THATS SO CUTE

maxverstappen1: no thank you?

| youruser: for what

| maxverstappen1: FOR USING MY PLANE???

| youruser: THIS IS CHARLES’ PLANE WTH ARE UOU ON ABOUT

| maxverstappen1: we share planes

| youruser: that’s probably one of the biggest loads of bs ive ever heard

| youruser: YOURE NOT GETTING ISACK BACK SHOO GO AWAY

| maxverstappen1: you’ve been warned

| youruser: if you make yuki dnf ill drag you out of that car and beat you in front of everyone

| maxverstappen1: i’ll like to see you try ☺️

| youruser: 🔪

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yukitsunoda0511

liked by liamlawson30 and others

yukitsunoda0511: few pics of the last few days since she leaves me soon :(

( tagged: youruser )

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user: just fell in my knees in my kitchen

user: NO YOURE LYING

user: WHAT ABOUT ISACK ???!!?!!!

maxverstappen1: finally

| kellypiquet: max please

| youruser: GETS HIS ASS KELLS

pierregasly: alone at last 👀

| yukitsunoda0511: 🫢🫣

| francisca.cgomes: this means i get y/n for the next few weeks 🤭🤭

| yukitsunoda0511: wait

| youruser: we were supposed to keep this private kiks 😪

| francisca.cgomes: im sorry my love but i just couldn’t take it anymore

| pierregasly: it seems ive made a mistake

youruser: im going to miss you so much

| yukitsunoda0511: :(

isackhadjar: i already miss you 😭

| youruser: ISACK MY SON 😭😭

| youruser: im going to miss you the most

| yukitsunoda0511: ⁉️

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youruser

seen by visacashapprb and more

user: OH MY GOD 😭😭😭

user: yuki and isack CAN NOT be separated now

| user: i will throw hands dont even test me rn

visacashapprb: we have so many tiktok ideas

| youruser: idk if i should be happy or scared

| visacashapprb: you’ll see ☺️

| youruser: 😨

maxverstappen1: im suing you for emotional distress

| youruser: im actually going to block you

| maxverstappen1: GUVE HIM BACK

| youruser: NO

kellypiquet: max is having a breakdown

| youruser: ARE YOU SERIOUS

| kellypiquet: very

| youruser: idk if i should apologise or laugh 🧍‍♀️

| kellypiquet: neither

| kellypiquet: it’s quite funny

| youruser: LMAO

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youruser

liked by isackhadjar and others

youruser: my boys <3

( tagged: yukitsunoda0511 and isackhadjar )

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user: lowkey thankful that yuki didn’t move or else we wouldn’t get this

| youruser: same honestly

user: vcarb should do the “just you and me and us and your friend steve” audio

| visacashapprb: 👀

lilymhe: why can’t i have a grid kid?

| alex_albon: we use to have two…

| logansargeant: USE TOO??? i see how it is

| alex_albon: wait no

user: i love when drivers and their gfs take care of the younger drivers

| user: the fact that yuki isn’t even that much older than isack is taking me out 😭

maxverstappen1: 🕳🚶‍♂️

pepemartiofficial: can i be adopted too?

| youruser: MY NEW SON

| isackhadjar: MY NEW BROTHER

| yukitsunoda0511: oh

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tsunodaradio · 2 months ago

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(in) love language ⛐ 𝐘𝐓𝟐𝟐

yuki has a soft spot for you. (or: the one where yuki is a pretty scary japanese teacher to everybody else.)

ꔮ starring: yuki tsunoda x reader. ꔮ word count: 0.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. profanity. isack's pov, japanese/french from google translate. ꔮ commentary box: #coping after aus gp. anywaaay. part of my soft spot mini-series! 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Isack is convinced he’s going to go crazy.

Somebody on the social media team is out to get him. He’s sure of it. Whoever thought up this challenge ahead of Suzuka— a ‘learn Japanese with Yuki’ segment— had flat-out lied to the rookie.

It’ll be fun, they said. Yuki will be nice, they said.

“That’s not how you do that,” Yuki snaps on Isack’s nth attempt to write his name in Katakana.

“If you have an issue with my name,” Isack grumbles below his breath, his pen pressing a little more firmly into the paper in front of him, “take it up with my mother, yeah?”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

There’s some snickering from the Racing Bulls staff. Oh, they’re having a field day. Yuki is being his usual fiery self, and Isack is the carnage of the older driver’s rampage. And it’s all on camera.

Isack is already drafting his resignation letter in his head. It’s certainly a lot easier to write than whatever the hell Yuki is expecting from him.

“Try ‘Red Bull’,” Yuki says, leaning over Isack’s shoulder. “Like this.”

The Japanese driver scribbles the words across the paper. レッドブル. “It’s pronounced reddo buru,” he adds.

“Red burr,” Isack tries, and Yuki makes a face. From that alone, Isack knows it’s going to be a long day of filming.

He at least gets some reprieve when the social media team has to ask around for a powerbank. The rookie breathes out a beleaguered sigh, which Yuki pointedly ignores.

“Are you always like this?” Isack asks. It’s posed to be a joke, but he’s suffered just enough for it to sound half-serious.

Yuki answers with a question of his own. “Like what?”

“Un monstre,” Isack deadpans.

Yuki, once again, chooses to ignore Isack. The older driver instead focuses on absentmindedly scribbling in Hiragana.

Isack is about to try and get another jab in when you walk in the room.

The changes in Yuki are subtle. The way he sits up a little straighter, the way his eyes flash with something warm. It’s the first time Isack is seeing it happen— or, rather, noticing it. No one else blinks an eye when you try to hide behind the other staff, even as Yuki tracks your every move.

When he calls out for you, gone is the sarcastic tone of earlier. It’s as if the mere mention of your name has softened all of Yuki’s sharp edges. You shyly come up to the two drivers; the break in filming, dragging out due to a lack of a proper phone camera.

“Isack,” you greet, “Yuki.”

“Bonjour,” Isack chirps.

“We’re learning Japanese today, Hadjar,” Yuki huffs. “Get with the program.”

Is there— a hint of jealousy in his tone? Isack thinks he must be imagining it. There’s no reason for Yuki to be jealous of him.

Unless.

“Oha-yow,” you amend, the word a bit clumsy on your tongue.

Isack half-expects Yuki to wince, to start cussing you out for butchering his mother tongue. That’s what the past hour has been like for the rookie, anyway.

Except he does neither.

“It’s more like ohayō,” Yuki tells you delicately, his expression disgustingly fond. Like he finds your verbal stumble cute. “You should take out the ‘ow’ sound.”

Isack can’t believe his fucking eyes.

Here’s Yuki Tsunoda, suddenly doing a full 180. He gives you none of the sarcastic remarks and vicious side eyes that Isack has been receiving in abundance. Instead, Yuki is all gentle reminders and tender touches as his fingers ghost over your wrist, guiding you in writing your name.

The rookie is slack-jawed as he watches it all unfold. He glances towards the other people in the room, his face a wordless, incredulous question of Are you guys seeing this shit?

They all stare back at him sympathetically; this isn’t their first rodeo. Everybody knows that Yuki is criminally down bad for you, and Isack is getting a front row seat to the show.

You say something that makes Yuki chuckle. He laughs a little too hard, throwing his whole body into it. Isack is willing to bet real money that whatever you whispered isn’t that funny, but that doesn’t matter. The two of you have all but frozen out Isack, and now he’s a third wheel to his own co-driver.

The social media team finds the camera they need for the shoot to continue. You step back into the fringes, and Yuki’s eyes linger on you for just a beat too long. It amazes Isack, just how oblivious you seem to be.

Yuki looks at you like you’re a language he wants to learn.

And— if your hint of a smile is anything to go by— then you’re not so far behind him.

All of Yuki’s affection bleeds out of his body when Isack teases him. “Simp,” Isack breathes through gritted teeth.

Yuki mumbles something back. Isack’s not sure, but he thinks it might be some profanity in Japanese.

It doesn’t matter. Not when Isack now has ammunition for days. ⛐

#yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda fluff #yuki tsunoda x you #yuki tsunoda drabble #yuki tsunoda imagines #yuki tsunoda fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fluff #f1 drabble #f1 fic #f1 imagines #⛐ kae prix #⛐ yt22 #⛐ series: soft spot #and when i say i am on a mission to write yuki and isack --#in as many fuckass situations as possible!!!#(mostly yuki. my man)

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cindol · 1 year ago

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womanly strength ﹒ ୭ৎ

cw— smut, strap-on used, full nelson sex position, black coded reader, girl on girl

She’s aware of her strength of how she squash a melon with just her thighs and put someone in a tight choke hold if she wanted and she was for certain aware of your fascination for her strong arms, always darting your eyes at them.

She loves feeding into whatever kink you have for them, always putting you in a playful chokehold not too tight so it wasn’t putting your life in any dangerous but an enjoyable way to where it makes you grin clawing at her arm while she grins back.

She uses her strength to her advantage also when it came to turning you on in sex always doing new positions to test you. With you lying on top of her, legs bent at your knees and apart she’d wrap her strong arms underneath your legs to pick you up. It gets a gasp out of you at first once you felt the black strap on start to move in and out of you.”a-ah that’s!—mmph..”

Even at your confused gasp mixed with soft moans she hushes you when you grab at her elbows.”shh shh.. gonna feel so good in a minute baby. Don’t you trust your strong girl?” of you did, you always did even if you were a little suspicious so you nodded along with a mumbled ‘mhm’ too focused on how her strap was going in and out of you.

“then don’t be so worried, you know I always fuck you good how you like.” If her hands were free she would’ve gripped your chin for you to get the message but once she started to thrust in and out of you at a consistent pace you got it.

With every thrust you got wetter and your slickness was getting on the strap. Her thrusting was getting quicker and sloppier inside your cunt, she took it up a level planting her feet onto the bed and her arms gripping much harder underneath your legs. It was so much making you squeal and moan trying to just grab something with your flailing hands at it.”o-oh—mmph!— so much giving me so much!”

Her respond remained the same with a grunt.”you can handle it though yeah? You can handle your strong girl?”

ㄑ﹒ yuki tsukumo, mikasa ackerman, quanxi .

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lilacxquartz · 11 months ago

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JJK x READER | JEALOUSY

a collection of reader insert scenarios in which the jjk characters are faced with the daunting prospect of dealing with jealousy around you.

w.c: each piece is under 700 words but there’s a lot of characters to get through :)

themes: fem!reader, mostly fluff, some nsfw mentions but light

included: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo, shoko ieiri, yuki tsukumo and our chaotic special guests: sukuna, uraume & kenjaku.

mdni • semi nsfw • ao3 link

—

Satoru Gojo:

Usually self assured and confident within all parameters of the relationship, Satoru had very little to worry about when it came to being with you.

Besides, just by being with him alone was the highest possible praise you could have ever given the guy.

So, when faced with the topic of jealousy, he would at oftentimes simply just push the subject away and it would never even have a chance to spiral. Maybe at best he’d ask you for some validation and you’d indulge him in a stream of compliments to feed his longing ego.

But it never got too bad.

Lately, however, there had been someone that he wasn’t too particularly fond of trying to get closer to you. It wasn’t your fault, you were simply just too nice.

Of course someone got the wrong idea and of course you were too oblivious to see what was wrong.

Truth be told, Satoru thought you wouldn’t do anything that would make him worry but just the person’s existence alone left him with a sour taste in his mouth when he thought about them.

His initial reaction bordered irrational and he suddenly became clingier when he texted you which was reflected to an extent when he spent time with you. He wanted much more validation and reassurance than usual because he wanted to be told exactly what you love about him and why.

Still, the strange person persisted, but rather than admitting that he was actually jealous of someone he knew that couldn’t even hold a candle to him, he decided to go all out.

Hitting his peak jealousy, he booked you a trip somewhere special. Sure, in your mind it might come across as out of place and even spontaneous, but you wouldn’t be mad. See, he knew exactly what types of places you’d like to go, keeping a mental note or any time you’ve had your eyes glued to your screen with wonder and as it turned out—he had the means to justify a trip to anywhere.

Confusion was what came to mind when you woke up to your overly optimistic boyfriend who subtly slipped a plane ticket into your hand while fast asleep. He next handed over your passport, your eyes warily following his own to land on a seemingly packed suitcase sitting by the bedroom door.

Poor you, Satoru didn’t even give you enough time to react to it all.

Yet there you were, already flying high in the sky in one of the clan jets half asleep.

Eventually it all hit you though and you asked what brought this on.

Satoru being Satoru fed a non-serious answer, laughing to himself that now so-and-so can’t get close to you which was right when you understood that the fool was actually acting out of jealousy all along.

Satoru was good to you though, even if he was excessive at times so you just rolled with it.

Making sure to fuck the worry right out of his head as soon as you arrived in the hotel room.

Suguru Geto:

Jealousy was something that Suguru never could quite overcome. It was ingrained into his personality at this point to protect what was his. He didn’t like sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike putting their eyes on you, staring at you as if they had a chance.

Wanting to stay in your good graces though, he reluctantly swallowed his insecurities away when he started getting serious with you and for the most part, trust prevailed.

You were his ideal partner and the girls loved you.

Those two little things painted you as perfection in his eyes and he would never stray away from you.

Speaking realistically, Suguru knew that he didn’t have a single thing to worry about with you. He treated you very well and wasn’t subtle about how much he loved you.

Still, he kept seeing you hang out with someone new. Keeping up the appearances with the cult often meant putting on a show and even if your persona was fabricated, he hated how the person in question was starting to look at you the same way he did.

In fact, it was infuriating.

His initial solution was to give into madness and simply feed this person to one of his cursed spirits before he realised that such an action would very likely upset you. His next solution would have been to warn (likely rough up) the person in question that they were on thin ice, but you wouldn’t like that either.

Instead, similar to Satoru, he would simply avert your focus from the suspect and redirect your attention onto him instead.

One particular night when the girls were asleep and a trusted ally was on the way over to babysit, he swooped in right behind you as you were getting changed for the night. His arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you close while his chin rested on your shoulder.

He whispered your name while leaving a trail of purposefully visible hickeys on your neck, making his claim on you obvious to anyone who dared look.

Caught off guard but not disliking it, you asked what brought all this on and Suguru who liked to be a man of few words during moments like these, replied that he just wanted to take you out tonight and show you off to the world.

While walking to the car however, he did confess his building concerns though, knowing that you wouldn’t be mad, maybe even find this whole mess funny.

That he simply didn’t like how close someone was trying to get to you, that he didn’t like that someone truly thought that they had a chance with you.

Planting him a deep kiss onto his cheek, you joked that if it meant more date nights then maybe it wasn’t so bad, especially with what you had planned later.

So in his riled up state of mind, his demeanour tightened.

Maybe it didn’t hurt to sometimes give into jealousy.

At least every now and then.

Kento Nanami:

Kento prided himself for being very connected to a logical approach with pretty much everything. He enjoyed listening to you and adjusting his behaviour to what he felt you needed from him while also being genuine about it.

As your long term partner, his number one goal was to ensure that all of your needs were being met and he took that very seriously.

Jealousy wasn’t ever an issue he explored as a result. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel it, in fact, he thought a little bit of it was healthy every now and then—but he simply just didn’t dwell on the subject, knowing that he had nothing to worry about.

Trust was a big part of a relationship, after all.

Yet, he couldn’t quite shake the lingering feeling that you might have been getting a bit too friendly with someone he disliked. He knew that realistically you were as faithful as they come and even worrying would be silly of him to do, but this irrational feeling wasn’t subsiding.

It was festering and it made him feel bad.

Wanting to set a good example on how to approach the topic of jealousy however, his first course of action was to catch you at a good moment. Right after dinner, he cleared the table for you and did the dishes, choosing to bring up the subject when he joined you on the sofa.

He wanted for you to take it slightly seriously though, so he asked for you to please humour him with his predicament.

You agreed to his terms because Kento was good to you and you wanted to hear him out whenever he had a problem. He wouldn’t be so serious all of a sudden if something was actually up and as a good girlfriend, you wanted to be there for him.

It was the right thing to do.

He started off saying that maybe it’s nothing, but, you’ve been getting a bit too friendly with someone he doesn’t have the best opinion of and he knows it’s not fair to put this on you, but he’s just unsure of how to feel when he sees you with someone like that.

Acting just a little too friendly.

He made sure to let you know that he wasn’t accusing you of anything though, that he knew it was all irrational, but he just couldn’t help it.

He was human, too.

Of course though, you were quick to reassure him. Right away in fact. It wasn’t that you were defensive, it was just that you found it almost endearing to see your usually serious boyfriend get worked up over something so simple.

Nanami sighed as this all happened, knowing it was silly to think his relationship was ever threatened to begin with.

Just to keep on your good side though, he didn’t see the harm in sometimes indulging at least a little in his feelings every now and then. Maybe sometimes he’d get you flowers arranged in a vase for you to find or he would take you somewhere nice when he had the time. Maybe he’d give you a massage or get you that necklace you’ve been eyeing up at the shop window every time you walked right past.

Just to see you smile, really.

Just to never give you a reason to doubt his devotion to you.

Choso Kamo:

You were technically Choso’s first and only ever girlfriend as he never quite had the opportunity to explore relationships before he met you. In fact, the very idea that you went from being just friends to him to being your actual boyfriend was a miracle in his eyes.

Both of you approached the subject of even the slightest form of intimacy very carefully. You found it very sweet personally, while he still carried some insecurity with it, wondering if you wanted more from him sooner than he was ready to give it.

He wanted to take his time with you, after all.

He wanted every single milestone to feel special, even if it was just your first kiss shared together or the first time he held your hand.

To him, every inch of you was incredible and although he did his best to not actually stare at you (and all night if he could get away with it), he couldn’t help but overthink every little thing that had ever happened in your relationship with him.

He sure did his best to not come across as too intense, though.

He’d always be as gentle as possible with you while being as kind as possible. He knew that he struggled with showing his emotions properly due to the side of him that wasn’t fully human, but he took extra care to show you how he always felt.

Despite this, he didn’t know exactly how to react when he saw you with somebody that he wasn’t too fond of. It felt like a deep punch to the gut and an irrational thought crept into his mind, daring to challenge the idea that you could be stolen away.

Choso in turn was accidentally upfront about it, straight up asking you if you liked someone else that wasn’t him, immediately regretting asking you such a thing the longer that the question hung in the air.

You were quick to comfort his concerns though, giving him a whole grand speech about how nobody on this earth could compare and how you’d never let him go.

Yet, it still wasn’t enough.

As his feelings ate him up from the inside, he found himself obsessing over every little thing that you did while being perhaps what could be interpreted as paranoid. Overbearing, even. For example, when you got up to use the bathroom in your shared home and he freaked out about you leaving, you knew that something was up.

Curiously, you poked and prodded until you got to the bottom of it all; finding that it was jealousy at fault all along. Again. While finding it somewhat absurd with how he reacted, you were forgiving with him.

He was still figuring out how to process emotions properly. He was still learning.

Your solution was simple enough; to give him some reassurance sealed with a kiss for every single worry that he had.

And as it turned out, it was going to be a long night.

Shoko Ieiri:

Shoko was never one for jealousy or petty discourse, knowing that the best way to settle any sort of relationship doubt was to push through by simply being a good partner rather than overthinking every little blip.

For one, she knew that you loved her because you always showed her that. You wouldn’t be going the extra mile with everything that you did if you didn’t, that much would be silly.

Every morning you’d prep her coffee the exact way she liked it and would even set extra alarms on your phone to make sure she had absolutely no chance of snoozing through her own.

You’d give her incredible head after long and draining night shifts, being sure to match her sleep schedule because you worked from home and could do just that.

You even kept a bottle of her favourite red stashed in the cupboard at all times, just in case she really needed a drink.

No, she’s never been worried about you.

However, lately… there has been an annoyance, to put it lightly.

It wasn’t that she had a reason to doubt you, but maybe it was her own doing? She didn’t want to think it, but it made some sense in her head.

Someone had been getting too cosy with you and it’s been rubbing her the wrong way. Initially, she blamed herself for it. She had been stuck at work for two weeks straight and her main concern was that she might have been neglecting the relationship, pushing you away unintentionally.

In an attempt to smooth things over and to secure an eternal place in your heart, she told her employer to stuff it and took a mandatory Friday night off to surprise you early.

She did everything correctly; picking up drinks, snacks and a takeaway from that place you both really liked. She even had a movie in mind for you both to snuggle up to all night.

Confused as to what brought this all on, you asked her if she was feeling okay. To this, she simply shrugged while maintaining her calm and collected demeanour, claiming that work was slow anyway and she could be doing much better things on her Friday night; like spending time with you.

Shoko did consider bringing up the topic of jealousy up again but just seeing you almost crying due to the sight of her being sweet alone because she had managed to touch you with her words was evidence enough.

She never needed to worry in the first place.

And she felt silly for doing so.

Yuki Tsukumo:

To date Yuki was to date the embodiment of chaos itself.

She was a handful most of the time, but that’s exactly what you loved about her. You were a quiet person yourself and being with her challenged you.

Yuki offered you excitement in ways because she actually encouraged you to live life for what it was, rather than to remain all cooped up inside all of the time.

She’d oftentimes whisk you all around the country on the back of her motorcycle, daring for you to hold on tighter. You learned to love camping by her side, finding that there was nothing more truly romantic and beautiful than waking up to your girlfriend basking bare in the sunrise.

Everything was perfect.

Yet, when Yuki caught a glimpse of a text on your phone, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel exactly.

Momentarily she felt guilty for two reasons.

One, she snooped. Two, did she do something wrong?

Who was this mysterious person that you were calling cute and why were you saying that you couldn’t wait to meet her?

Convinced you were hiding something, Yuki decided to ask you straight up what the issue was. She waltzed over to you while you were cooking up breakfast (eggs on toast for two), asking what exactly what you were up to because you were being a little too cryptic for her liking.

Caught off guard but completely understanding of her concerns, you decided to spill the beans on what was supposed to be a surprise.

You asked her if she remembered giving her the green light to finally get a dog for their adventures.

Yuki froze in response, but she could finally see where this was all going. Her face flushed. Oh, what a fool she must have sounded like just now.

Turns out, you were looking for a puppy for the two of you to raise but you managed to find a very sweet rescue from a shelter nearby. You wanted to approach the subject of going to see it together, but you couldn’t help but sneak a visit by yourself to meet the sweet girl.

Yuki held onto her serious gaze for just a moment before she burst out laughing, repeating a mantra of “of course” and “I should have known” over and over again.

Obviously you wouldn’t cheat on her.

It really was that simple.

Sukuna:

By some miracle, you ended up not only surviving an audience with the alleged King of Curses himself, but you also managed to garner just enough interest from him to enter a relationship with him.

Not that he gave you much of an option to refuse such an offer though. Your very first date with him entailed him showing up right outside the front door of your apartment, snatching you away in your pyjamas to a secluded spot somewhere in the mountains.

If you were to be completely honest, you thought that you were going to die the first few times you were carried off somewhere by him.

But that was a worry you reluctantly pushed aside the longer that time went on.

Sukuna had his good moments, after all. It was a little alarming at first with how blunt he was and how quickly he switched from brutal honesty to a joking mood about something so seemingly unserious, but you did try your best to keep up.

Sukuna liked this about you, that you were willing to adapt.

He also took care of you, at least in his own excessive way. Sometimes it would be something innocent and simple like making sure you took good care of your body and at other times, it bordered irrational when he purged half of your closest because the fabric that was allowed to touch your skin could only come from the finest cloth.

Sometimes, his care bordered insane too. You shuddered when you thought back to the look on your landlord’s face when he pulled his last stunt. Installing high security prison levels of surveillance over your apartment just to ensure that nobody could even look in your direction without there being evidence of such a thing.

So, when you were assigned to work with someone new at your job, he immediately didn’t like them. Usually, he didn’t care about such trivial matters, but this guy clearly thought he had a chance with you? The audacity.

It was pathetic, even.

If only the poor sucker knew that you were already taken by the man from his nightmares though.

Rather than addressing the issue in a healthy way, he decided to skip right ahead of time and simply… dispose of the person in question. He arranged for Uraume to tackle the threat however they preferred, as long as their presence could never be felt within the immediate vicinity again.

This sort of behaviour was unfortunately doomed to repeat however many times it took and every time that it did, he would be sure to give you a night in bed that you would be foolish to forget; to remind you of your place in his life again and again.

That through it all, you were his and his alone.

Uraume:

Life with Uraume was simple but fulfilling. While they were work oriented and took their role very much seriously, they were still fiercely loyal to you; the only other person (Sukuna) who could truly understand them.

It didn’t really take much for you to make their day. Even just sitting in silence with them after a long shift as they laid their head in your lap, your fingernails lightly massaging their scalp was the definition of heaven to them.

Or even just things like talking about your day was enough, no matter how mundane. It was never a chore to listen to the sound of your voice.

Uraume was particular, after all. They craved closeness but only with you, claiming that your touch was the answer to all of life’s problems.

One particular night, they were pardoned from work earlier than usual and had a night off for a change. So imagine their combined confusion and surprise when you weren’t home for once.

Alarm bells rang in their head and upon texting you (calls were still a work in progress, they didn’t like them too much), just to see where you were, they found that they didn’t like the answer at all.

You replied that you were with a friend just watching a movie, but you didn’t know that they had a night off that day but you’ll be back soon enough.

Uraume didn’t reply to you, feeling something strange boil away from the pit of their stomach. They knew that you were more sociable than them and had more friends, but something stung about how casual you were.

It was like you cared more about your friends than them?

Even if they didn’t give you a heads up about their earlier arrival, it still felt bad to know you could just easily spend time with someone else.

When you finally made your way home, Uraume hadn’t eaten a single thing and was left simmering away with irritable hunger from the moment you walked back inside.

Treating you initially coldly, they made sure to point out exactly where you went wrong.

Just watching a movie? But that’s something you did with them too. Next you’d be saying that you were going to treat your friends to dinner or that you were going to go on trips abroad with them.

You knew them too well, though. Thawing past Uraume’s icy exterior wasn’t an issue for you and you knew just how they could get.

Your reaction as a result was to sit right by them, pulling them close as they reluctantly obliged. You would indeed justify your right to treat your friends well, but you would also remind them that yes, while you do watch movies with them too, you don’t however hold their hands during such things the same way. You don’t pet their hair while they’re cuddling up against you, because that’s something special.

You tried to explain to the best of your ability that there are ways to platonically spend time with your friends in a way that could never compare to the intimacy that you shared with them.

Something that couldn’t be replicated nor replaced.

So please to not worry.

And so, reluctantly accepting such a response, Uraume would indeed slowly melt at your words just because you had no reason to lie about such a thing.

What you had was special and you wouldn’t do that with anyone else.

You loved each other and that’s just how it was always going to be.

Kenjaku:

By some bizarre turn of fate, you ended up becoming entangled in what must have been the strangest relationship of your entire life.

Kenjaku wasn’t entirely dishonest with you in your time dating him, surprisingly. But he did find your judgement to at least be a little questionable the longer you kept tolerating him and his antics.

It was straight up almost concerning to him when you accepted the grand reveal of his great plans or when he informed you that he was nothing more than a brain in a suit. Not even the mention of his true age could shake you.

The reality was that you were mostly… fascinated. You never met someone like him before and every single day with him felt like something straight out of an old Scooby Doo episode because he was almost comically villain-like, always going off on long and elaborate speeches about something strange.

Aside from that, he was fine. At least somewhat.

He went out of his way to have a very… specific sort of relationship with you. In some ways, he reminded you of a crow or maybe a magpie, with the way he always left behind strange trinkets to find, just to study your reaction.

Sometimes he’d announce intricate facts about yourself that you didn’t even know and at other times, things would go missing from your apartment, leaving you wondering if they had ever existed at all.

He simply thought that you were a peculiar person and he enjoyed pushing you to your limit just to see just how far he could go with you.

One thing did come to bother him though.

It was when you befriended someone that in his eyes, he considered to be extremely boring.

You see, he only allowed himself to indulge in a romantic relationship with you because you were interesting to him. People like you were rare and this era managed to bless someone like you within his close proximity. As a result, he was going to keep you around if he could help it.

The idea of you investing your time into someone completely boring though? He wasn’t having it.

Much like Sukuna, he wouldn’t even ask you about the person in question. Instead, he’d take matters into his own hands but not before having some fun with it all.

So after sending you on a long and elaborate scavenger hunt to keep you busy for the day, he’d snatch up the person who was getting a little too suspiciously close to you for his liking. He’d lure them in through dubious means( like a trap and then ponder exactly what he would do with them once they took the bait.

Admittedly, he didn’t plan that far ahead.

Unlike the rest of his plans that were actually better thought out, he didn’t have such a luxury when it came to working around his jealousy.

Such an annoying emotion.

Initially he was going to play a strange game of would you rather with the poor sap, increasingly turning the questions into something more and more disturbing by the second but ultimately, he decided that maybe just chasing the guy through the woods with an axe in his hand could be a lot more fun instead.

And should you dare ask or enquire about what happened to your “friend” or whatever relation they had to you, he would do his best to convince you that such a person never existed to begin with.

You needn’t worry about such boring people, after all.

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noodle-is-unstable · 7 months ago

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Are the JJK Characters Doms, Subs or Switches

(Head Cannons/Drabbles)

Ft ~ Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryoumen Sukuna, Choso, Takuma Ino, Shiu Kong, Uraume, Yuki Tsukumo, Shoko Ieiri, Mahito

Synopsis ~ Are the JJK Characters Doms, Subs or Switches? (These are just my opinions but I'm right)

Content Warning ~ 18+, Idk adult stuff

Gojo ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Absolute Switch. He doesn't care what position he's taking he'll have fun either way

"Blindfold on baby cakes!" Gojo cooed, holding out his signature blindfold.

"Hmmm, no, I think you should wear it today." You smirk, pushing it back towards him.

"I wear it every day though." He laughed, such a precious sound.

"Mhm, but you don't wear ropes everyday."

Geto ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Dom leaning Switch. Likes to be in charge most of the time but is fine switching it up every now and then. He looks pretty in rope after all

"What do you want today Angel?" Geto hummed, scanning through the wall of toys.

"How about you bring out the ropes and the flog?" You bite your lip, pulling him closer by his robes.

"Aren't you a naughty little thing."

Nanami ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Soft Dom. Very comforting and you won't even realize you're being dominated until he tells you how good you did

"You did so good, you behaved so well." Nanami cooed, kissing the top of your head.

"Did I?" You ask, still slightly dazed.

"You did the best darling."

Toji ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Pleasure Dom. Froths on getting you off over, and over, and over again

"Come on, you can give me one more, right?" Toji urged you, his fingers still going at their relentless pace.

"C-can't." You cry out. But that was a lie and both you and him knew it.

"Hmm, I think i can get one more."

Sukuna ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Sadistic Dom. Loves to inflict pain but you'll always be well cared for after

"Count out loud each time I strike you or I'll make you start over." Sukuna warned, his dark, sadistic smile on his lips.

"Got it." You huffed out.

"Good minx."

Choso ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: The subbiest Sub that ever subbed. Just wants to be told what to do and have things done to him.

"Please, please, please please." The words fell from Choso like a chant, the only word he knew.

"Three. Two. One." You count down to his release.

"T-thank you!"

Ino ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Sub leaning Switch. Is a natural born sub but has no problems taking control every now and then

"Soooo, wanna sit on my face until I can't breath?" Ino hummed.

"If I ever say no to that, kill me." You giggle back, grabbing his hand to drag him to the bedroom.

"Score!"

Shiu ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Dom (Brat Tamer). Docile in the streets, Dominant in the sheets, you'll be in his control in no time

"Sit." Shiu instructed you, patting the space on his lap.

"Make me." You purred, famous last words.

"If you insist."

Uraume ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Sub. They always have to make decisions and likes being able to let go and give up control in the bedroom

"Move your hands, I want to see you." You urged them.

"This is embarrassing." Uraume pouted, red cheeks.

"You never have to be embarrassed with me Snowflake."

Yuki ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Hard Dom (Dommy Mommy). Absolutely would rather die than give up control

"Arch your back more babe." Yuki chuckled, slapping your ass.

"I'm not a contortionist." You bite back, though you do arch more

"Mhm, yet you still listened."

Shoko ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Switch. Like most thing she's pretty indifferent and is just happy to be apart of it

"Should I be on top today, or you?" Shoko hummed with a smile.

"You, I was on top yesterday." You laughed.

"Fine by me."

Mahito ~

Dom, Sub, Switch: Sub. Just wants to do ANYTHING you say and to keep you happy

"Please tell me what you want. What can I do? Please tell me." Mahito desperately plead, hugging your thigh and looking up at you.

"Will you be a good boy and listen?" You ask, playing with his hair.

"Yes! I'll be the best boy!"

#jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #ryomen sukuna #choso #ino takuma #shiu kong #uraume #yuki tsukumo #shoko ieiri #mahito #jjk headcanons #jjk drabbles

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formulafics · 1 year ago

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VALENTINES DAY

Scenario: a peak into some of the grids Valentine’s Day with yn. <;3

Includes: charles leclerc, alex albon, lando norris, george russel, mick shumacher, yuki tsunoda, and logan sargeant.

A/N: this is another super short post, BUT AT LEAST ITS A POST 🙌🏻 as always, shoutout to my beloved @renarots for fueling ideas that go into these fics 🥰

charles_leclerc and ynln

liked by ynln, georgerussel63, alex_albon, landonorris, and 432,651 others

charles_leclerc Happy Valentines Day - Mr & Mrs. Leclerc ❤️💍

view all 5,631 comments

ynln obssesed with you for life 😚

⤷ formulaleclerc SOBBING I LOVE YN AND CHARLES

arthur_leclerc ❤️❤️

lovelyleclerc CHARLES AND YN ENGAGEMENT WAS NOT ON MY 2024 BINGO CARD WHAT THE FUCK

alex_albon and ynln

liked by georgerussel63, logansargeant, landonorris, and 245,672 others

alex_albon valen-time for a valentines dump

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ynln were literally so cool 😎

⤷ logansargeant the coolest 💯

⤷ formulaoneoneone logan is NEVER beating the yn and alex are his parents allegations

lando.jpg and ynln

liked by ynln, georgerussel63, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 653,762 others

lando.jpg 4 years down, forever to go. 😚

view all 4,372 comments

ynln I love you forever my sweet boy

⤷ ynln and happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! 🥰

norriswrld their anniversary being on Valentine’s Day may just be the most devastating thing in the world

⤷ ln4nation LITERALLY.

ynln and georgerussel63

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, charles_leclerc, mercedesamgf1, and 234,563 others

ynln my forever valentine. ❤️

view all 3,567 comments

georgerussel63 love you to the moon and back. 🌙❤️

⤷ amgr63 this is so sick and twisted george 😭

mickshumacher and ynln

liked by georgerussel63, estebanocon31, and 241,892 others

mickshumacher my favorite girls for life. happy valentines day ❤️

view all 2,532 comments

ynln micky, the people want to know - do you love me or Angie more?

⤷ mickshumacher yes.

⤷ shumishumi THIS IS SUCH A CUTE RESPONSE IM ON THE FLOOR

yukitsunoda0511 and ynln

liked by lando.jpg, liamlawson40, and 212,432 others

yukitsunoda0511 happy valentines ❤️

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ynln you’re my favorite human 🥹

cryingoverf1 what do y’all know about yn and yuki being the best couple on the paddock? NOTHING.

yukisgirl these are my parents btw guys (yn and yuki adopt me challenge)

logansargeant and ynln

liked by alex_albon, mickshumacher, oscarpiastri, and 214,567 others

logansargeant happiest man in the world 🫶🏻

view all 2,721 comments

ynln happiest girl in the world 🥰

⤷ formulasargeant GOD THEYRE SO CUTE

taglist | @renarots @treehouse-mouse @jsjcue @piasstrisblog @vellicora @leclercvsx @sadieurlady @motorsp0rt @marshmummy @lovstappen @illicitverstappen @spidersophie @lokietro @arkhammaid @stopeatread @vroomvroomverstappen @kortneej81 @fastcarsandshit @elliegrey2803 @i-love-ptv @pretty-little-bunny382728

thank you for reading! <3

#formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #formula one social media au #formula one smau #charles leclerc x reader #alex albon x reader #lando norris x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #george russel x reader #logan sargeant x reader #mick shumacher x reader

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wethotcrazy · 6 months ago

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Parallel Lines

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Olympic Figure Skater! Reader

word count: 6638

i've had this marinating in my brain for a bit. i just think that racing and skating have such interesting juxtaposition so here it is.

Sagamihara always had a sleepy kind of charm, but Yuki and YN felt something else in the quiet mornings and late nights, the stillness only broken by the hum of dreams in motion. Growing up here meant routines and rituals, like early morning alarms and empty streets, the cold air pinching at their cheeks as they walked out to different but parallel paths.

They’d seen each other countless times over the years: two kids with big dreams crossing paths by chance, brushing against each other’s lives without ever truly touching. YN was always the girl with the figure skates slung over her shoulder, eyes bright and posture poised even at dawn. Yuki, in contrast, was the scrappy boy with an endless supply of karting posters and racing memorabilia, always dashing toward the next practice with the fierce focus of a kid who already knew his path.

When they passed each other, there was always a nod, a polite “Good morning” or “Good night,” exchanged in those shared spaces—two people who understood the solitude of dreams.

The first time Yuki saw her was on his way home after a long day at the track, dirt and oil streaked across his cheek. YN was on her way to the rink, her skates glittering in her hands, her hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail. She looked ready to take on the world, and he couldn’t help but admire that, even as he ducked his head slightly, embarrassed by his own disheveled state. She’d simply smiled, nodding in that small, knowing way, and gone on her way.

Yuki didn’t know it at the time, but that look—the look of someone fully consumed by a dream—was something he’d come to recognize again and again over the years.

As they grew older, they kept moving in the same direction: toward ambition, toward something beyond Sagamihara. But they’d drifted apart in other ways. Yuki’s weekends became filled with karting, and then, one day, with plans for Europe—his sights set on Formula 1. YN’s weekends were consumed by rink hours, the constant, punishing quest to perfect each routine, each jump, each spin. They still crossed paths, sometimes outside the ice rink or the train station, exchanging those same fleeting nods.

It was strange—Sagamihara wasn’t large, yet somehow, they’d managed to orbit each other like planets, moving along parallel paths that never seemed to converge.

One summer evening, just after dusk, they crossed paths again, older now, YN carrying a gym bag and wearing a jacket from the national team, Yuki carrying a helmet, his clothes scuffed from a day of karting. They stood there, paused on the quiet street, and he couldn’t help but break the usual silence.

“You’re still skating, then?”

She nodded, her eyes warm with a familiar determination. “And you’re still racing.”

“Planning to stop anytime soon?” he teased.

Her smile was small, but it held a kind of fierceness. “Not until I make it.”

“Same here.”

The weight of their dreams hung in the air between them, the invisible wall that had always been there but that they’d learned to accept. There wasn’t any need for explanation, just that shared understanding. They were alike, but separate, and they knew the sacrifices and loneliness that came with chasing something so big.

Years passed like that, each of them watching the other only in passing—Yuki catching glimpses of her in news clips, her routines sharpened with an artistry that almost seemed untouchable, while she’d see photos of him in magazines and on TV, headlines proclaiming his meteoric rise through the ranks of motorsport. Every success felt like a nod to each other, a reminder of the dreams that had been born back in Sagamihara.

One winter, when Yuki was back in Japan for the off-season, he found himself walking through their old neighborhood, a rare moment of quiet for him. Snow had settled on the streets, muffling the sounds of the city and creating that same early-morning hush that he remembered from childhood.

At the ice rink, he spotted her just coming off practice. She noticed him, her eyes widening a bit in surprise, then softening in recognition.

“Yuki,” she said, her voice warm in a way that held their shared history, even if they’d never shared much more than a nod. “You’re here.”

“Just for a bit. Off-season,” he replied, feeling that same familiar ease, as though they’d just picked up an old, comfortable habit.

They didn’t need to say much; that was the thing about two people who’d been chasing dreams their whole lives—they’d run out of words long ago. Instead, they sat side by side on the cold metal bench outside the rink, their breaths visible in the chilly air. For a moment, it felt as if they were kids again, those same two quiet strangers in the early hours of Sagamihara, bound by something unspoken but unmistakable.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Yuki murmured finally, glancing over at her. “How we’ve always been here, but never really…here.”

YN nodded, looking out at the snowy street, her skates resting by her side. “Maybe we’ll always be a little like that. Parallel. Just…passing each other.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Maybe. But I think I’m okay with that.”

And in that moment, they both knew it was true. They’d never really needed each other to understand. Their connection was there, solid but silent, like the hum of the early morning streets of Sagamihara that had once seen them both grow and rise, side by side.

As Yuki settled into his off-season routine, blissfully unaware, an unexpected storm was brewing on the internet. It began when a fan account posted an old, grainy yearbook photo that seemed to have no apparent significance—just two kids from Sagamihara, tucked into a corner of the page. Yuki Tsunoda, grinning with that familiar spark in his eyes even at a young age, and right beside him, YN, with a shy, focused look that hinted at the grace she’d later bring to the rink.

The photo alone might have gone unnoticed. But within hours, more yearbook photos appeared, retweeted and reshared by fans who’d pieced together the fact that these two seemingly unrelated athletes had shared more than just a hometown.

One especially dedicated fan managed to dig up an old article from a Sagamihara newspaper, “The Rising Stars of Sagamihara,” a feature highlighting young, local talents. In it was a tiny column dedicated to a 10-year-old Yuki Tsunoda, “the lightning-fast karting prodigy,” and a paragraph further down, highlighting YN, “the local ice princess.” The two write-ups were paired with side-by-side photos: Yuki in a helmet, hands on his karting wheel with that mischievous grin, and YN in her skating attire, her posture proud and determined even at such a young age.

Fans started to piece it together: the fact that they’d grown up in the same neighborhood, gone to the same schools, and even shared the same early mornings and late nights, each in their own world yet strangely intertwined. And it wasn’t long before the discovery of an old, archived video from a local TV broadcast surfaced online—a brief segment from years ago that fans began to pass around excitedly.

In the clip, the young, wide-eyed Yuki stood outside his local karting track, excitedly describing his dream of one day becoming a Formula 1 driver. The interviewer had asked him, “What’s the best part of racing?” Yuki had grinned, eyes lighting up in a way that was still familiar to his fans today. “Going fast,” he’d said simply. “And getting better each time. I want to be the fastest in the world.”

The video then cut to the local ice rink, where a young YN was carefully lacing up her skates, so focused on the task that she barely noticed the camera. When the interviewer asked her what drove her to skate, she’d answered with quiet conviction, “I just love it. I want to make it to the Olympics someday. It’s…where I need to be.”

The segment was barely two minutes long, but it captured two kids with dreams that stretched far beyond Sagamihara, two kids who, even back then, had an uncanny sense of direction and drive. Fans, both of Yuki and of the Olympic skating world, couldn’t help but feel like they’d uncovered a rare glimpse into a shared story—two kids from the same neighborhood, their paths woven together by dreams, even if only in the way they passed each other.

Social media blew up with fan theories, speculating on how often their lives must have intersected, how many times they might have passed each other on their way to training. Photos surfaced, sent in by locals who had watched them both grow up in Sagamihara—some just vague, fleeting memories: “I remember seeing them both at the train station on winter mornings!” or “I used to watch Yuki at the track and YN at the rink. They were both so intense, so dedicated, even as kids.”

Yuki had been mostly offline during his break, enjoying a rare stretch of quiet, until one of his friends finally texted him about it. Amused, he clicked through the screenshots and articles, surprised by how far fans had gone to piece together these memories. He hadn’t even remembered half of them himself. One of the photos, an old class trip snapshot, brought a small smile to his face—YN and him standing near each other, neither of them smiling for the camera, both distracted, probably thinking about their next practice.

Meanwhile, YN caught wind of it from one of her friends, who sent her a link with a message: “Look! You’re practically trending!”

She’d laughed at first, scrolling through tweets and posts, memories flashing back like scenes from an old movie: her hurried mornings at the train station, those late-night practice sessions when she’d sometimes catch a glimpse of Yuki heading home from the karting track, their nods and polite hellos. She couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic��she hadn’t realized how much those quiet moments had mattered to her, how they’d become part of the story of her dream.

One night, not long after, Yuki texted her.

“Have you seen the whole internet making us childhood rivals or something? Lol”

She smirked, fingers tapping quickly to reply.

“Or ‘childhood sweethearts,’ depending on who you ask.”

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed with his reply:

“They’re not totally wrong. Not the rivals part, anyway.”

She chuckled at that, surprised by the warmth the message brought. There was a comfort in knowing that he remembered those early days too, that those moments of passing each other had meant something, even if it had been unspoken.

“Maybe they’ll call us ‘parallel dreamers’ next,” she replied.

And as she lay back on her couch, scrolling through the old photos and shared memories, she realized something: maybe their paths had been parallel, and maybe they’d drifted apart in pursuit of those dreams, but Sagamihara had left its mark on both of them. It was their shared starting line, the place where they’d both learned to dream and to fight, even if their paths had rarely converged.

A few days later, Yuki was in Tokyo for a media event, and on an impulse, he texted her again.

“Coffee? For old times’ sake?”

When they met at a small, tucked-away café in the city, there was an ease between them, as if the years and distance hadn’t changed a thing. They laughed over the fan theories, traded stories about the yearbook photos and old video clips, and shared some of the strange, wonderful feeling of seeing their quiet little corner of Sagamihara suddenly brought to light.

“I always thought you were so intense back then,” Yuki teased, raising an eyebrow. “Every time I saw you, you looked like you were going into battle.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Formula 1,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “I’d see you at the track, looking like you were in some kind of racing trance. You know, you used to scare me a little.”

He laughed, a sound that was so warm and familiar. “Guess we were both a little intense. Guess we still are.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the bustling street outside, each of them thinking back to those early mornings and late nights in Sagamihara, to the unspoken connection that had somehow brought them back together, even in the vastness of their separate worlds.

“Do you ever miss it?” she asked quietly, her gaze softening. “Sagamihara, I mean. Those early days?”

He nodded, his expression wistful. “Sometimes. I think I miss the simplicity of it. The way it felt to just…dream.”

She looked at him, and in that moment, she felt the weight of all those years, of all the mornings and nights they’d shared in passing, two strangers who had never truly been strangers at all.

“Me too,” she said softly. And for the first time, it felt like they weren’t just passing by—they were here, in this moment, together.

The whole thing still felt surreal to YN. Figure skating had always been a quiet pursuit, one that seemed to exist in the background of mainstream attention—until the Winter Olympics came around, when suddenly, the whole world seemed to tune in. But this recent surge of attention felt different. It wasn’t just about her skating career anymore; it was as if her whole childhood was being reexamined through this strange, nostalgic lens. Fans couldn’t seem to get enough of the idea that she and Yuki had spent their earliest years unknowingly sharing the same road.

And, somehow, the more the fans uncovered, the more it actually brought her and Yuki together.

They began to message each other regularly, trading stories from their childhood that they hadn’t even realized they shared. YN would find herself laughing as she read Yuki’s late-night messages, recounting moments she’d almost forgotten—like the time they’d both been late for school on the same day because they’d each missed the early train, or the little neighborhood shop where they’d each spent their allowances on sports magazines and energy drinks, practically standing side-by-side without knowing it.

One evening, YN received a message from Yuki that included an old photo she had completely forgotten about. It was a group photo from a school field day, and there they were, standing a few feet apart in their gym uniforms, each of them looking off in different directions, probably already thinking about the next practice, the next goal. The caption he’d written was simple:

“Look at us, already daydreaming.”

She found herself smiling, typing back:

“I think we were both always somewhere else.”

To her surprise, Yuki replied almost immediately.

“Maybe we were just waiting to catch up.”

Something about that made her pause, her heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. She hadn’t expected this sudden closeness—hadn’t expected to find herself confiding in him so naturally, like they were picking up a conversation they’d started years ago but never quite finished.

The fans, meanwhile, were relentless. More photos and old stories kept surfacing, and every new discovery seemed to send the internet into a frenzy. Some old classmates even came forward with their own memories, adding to the charm of it all. One of the most popular was a story from a girl who remembered how Yuki and YN would always be the first ones out the school gates after the last bell, each headed in different directions, both of them racing the clock to get to their practices on time. “They looked like they were in some kind of secret competition,” the girl had written with a laugh. “They never even knew they were competing.”

The two of them found it all endlessly amusing, and they often texted each other late into the night, reminiscing and teasing each other about the memories fans kept unearthing.

Then one night, YN found herself scrolling through her messages with Yuki, reading back through the familiar exchanges that had slowly become part of her days. She felt a pang of nostalgia, and on a whim, she texted him:

“Hey, do you remember that old café near the train station? The one with the melon soda floats?”

He texted back almost instantly.

“The one where I spilled a whole soda on myself? Yeah, I remember. Want to meet up there?”

The next afternoon, they found themselves back in that cozy, faded café, sitting across from each other with melon soda floats, just like they had years ago. She watched as Yuki took a sip, and they both burst into laughter as he wrinkled his nose, clearly not used to the sweetness anymore.

“Wow, it tastes exactly the same,” he said, putting the glass down with a mock grimace. “How did we drink these all the time?”

YN laughed. “Guess we didn’t know any better.”

They sat there, talking easily about their childhood routines, each one of them filling in gaps in the other’s memories. Yuki told her about the hours he’d spent working on his kart at the local track, about the old man who used to stop by and offer him tips, and she found herself captivated, imagining the younger Yuki she’d only ever seen in glimpses.

She told him about the hours at the rink, practicing spins until her legs shook, the evenings when she’d watch the last of the sunlight filter through the windows and think about what it would feel like to one day skate for an audience that stretched far beyond Sagamihara.

As she talked, Yuki looked at her with a softness she hadn’t quite seen before. “I remember,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of awe. “I remember seeing you after practice, with your skates hanging over your shoulder. You always looked…so focused, like you were in a world of your own.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth blossom in her chest. “I always thought you looked like you were ready to take on the world.”

They sat there, a comfortable silence settling between them, and for a moment, it felt as if they were back in Sagamihara, just two kids chasing their dreams, both of them trying to make sense of a feeling they hadn’t quite had words for back then.

But this time, it was different. This time, they were here, and the world wasn’t pulling them in opposite directions.

That night, after they’d said their goodbyes and gone their separate ways, YN found herself thinking about Yuki long after she got home. She scrolled through her messages, re-reading the conversations they’d shared over the past few weeks, the memories they’d uncovered together, the fragments of their shared past that had slowly pulled them closer.

And as she lay in bed, her phone buzzed with one last message from him.

“Thanks for today. It was…good to be back. With you.”

She smiled, her heart warm with a quiet happiness she hadn’t quite felt before. She typed a quick reply:

“Good to be back, too. And hey—don’t forget, I beat you to practice every time back then.”

The next morning, as she headed to practice, she found herself smiling as she passed by familiar streets and old buildings. For the first time in a long time, she felt a kind of peace settle over her, a sense that maybe, just maybe, she’d finally found a piece of home in the most unexpected of places.

And perhaps, she thought with a quiet hope, this time their paths wouldn’t just cross—they might actually find themselves walking side by side, together.

At first, it was subtle, almost like a game of hide-and-seek played by two people who didn’t really want to hide. YN’s posts were usually quiet, focused on her routines, her performances, the ice rink early in the morning or late at night when it was empty and calm. But lately, fans had noticed a difference. There were little hints—a second coffee cup on the table, a shadow beside her in the mirror at the rink, a half-smile that seemed directed at someone just out of view.

And then, there was Yuki. His own fans, well-attuned to his habits, noticed he was a little more active online than usual, sharing bits and pieces of his days that were uncharacteristically… soft. He’d always had a down-to-earth presence, but now there was something more thoughtful to it—a kind of quiet happiness that seemed to radiate from even the simplest posts. A casual photo of him at a cafe would have a book next to his coffee, open to some obscure passage about ambition and the journey to reach it. In another post, he was on a quiet Tokyo street at dusk, the caption a single kanji: “帰” (home).

Most fans brushed it off as coincidence—until the first fan sighting happened. It was a quiet Tuesday, and Yuki and YN had snuck away to a tiny ramen shop tucked into one of the side streets of Tokyo, hoping to escape the city’s usual rush. They were deep in conversation, heads bent close together, laughing at some shared joke as they slurped noodles. Neither noticed the two fans a few tables over, both of whom sat in stunned silence, glancing at each other with wide eyes.

Photos surfaced on social media within hours. The fandom went into an instant, thrilled frenzy as fans dissected every detail—the relaxed way they seemed to sit together, the way Yuki had looked at her while she laughed, the unmistakable ease and familiarity that only came with years of shared history. And as more fans pieced together the clues that had been scattered across their social media, the internet’s interest in “the childhood rivals” reignited in a big way.

Some fans were quick to pull out old screenshots, examining the places YN had been posting about recently, pointing out landmarks that seemed to match up with places Yuki had been seen as well. Others dissected old interviews and clips, spotting the subtle changes in their expressions whenever their respective childhoods in Sagamihara were brought up. It was as if, now that fans knew what to look for, the hints were everywhere, woven quietly through both of their lives.

One day, YN’s manager pulled her aside, gently asking if she’d seen the fan reaction. She had, of course, though she’d tried not to look too closely, letting herself stay in the bubble of their quiet, everyday moments. But curiosity got the better of her, and that night, she found herself scrolling through post after post, watching fans piece together their shared past like some kind of romantic detective story.

There was one thread in particular that made her pause, an almost absurdly thorough breakdown of all the times YN and Yuki had likely crossed paths as kids. It included everything from their school schedules to their practice times, even a speculative timeline of when they might have seen each other at the train station.

One of the fans had written, “I think what I love most about this whole thing is that they were just… there, for each other, all those years. Even if they didn’t realize it. It’s like they were connected without ever needing to say anything.”

As she read, she found herself smiling, remembering those long, quiet mornings, those nods exchanged across empty streets. And when her phone buzzed with a new message from Yuki, she almost laughed at the timing.

“Guess they’re onto us, huh?”

She typed back, fingers moving almost without thinking.

“I think they like it. Us. All those years we kept passing each other.”

A few seconds later, his reply appeared.

“It’s kind of nice, actually. I didn’t know it’d mean this much to people.”

“To me, either,” she replied, pausing, feeling the weight of those words. “But I think they see it now—how we’ve been part of each other’s lives, all this time. Even if it was just little things.”

And that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? She’d grown up knowing his silhouette from across the street, his familiar nod, the way he’d look at her with a small, tired smile after a long day, as if they were acknowledging the quiet cost of their dreams. Those small gestures had added up, building something she hadn’t fully realized until now.

A few weeks later, when the off-season was almost over, Yuki suggested they meet at the old track in Sagamihara. She was surprised—after all, they’d both moved on, their worlds much larger than they’d been as kids, but something about the idea felt perfect.

When she arrived, Yuki was already there, leaning against a guardrail with a nostalgic grin on his face. The track was empty, just as it had been in their childhood, and he waved her over, his smile widening as she approached.

“Welcome back,” he said, his voice soft, filled with a quiet happiness she’d grown to recognize.

They walked around the track, sharing stories from their childhood that felt both old and new. Yuki told her about his first time racing there, how he’d stayed up all night the day before, too excited to sleep. She laughed, admitting she’d once done the same thing before her first competition, spending the entire night pacing around her room, practicing jumps she’d already perfected a hundred times.

They ended up sitting side by side in the stands, looking out at the track, lost in memories. After a while, YN spoke up, her voice barely a whisper.

“Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d actually been friends back then?”

Yuki tilted his head, considering her question. “Maybe we were, in a way. I mean, we were there for each other, right? Even if we didn’t talk much.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “I think we were, too.”

He looked over at her, a gentle warmth in his eyes. “Well, we’ve got all the time in the world to catch up now.”

The simplicity of his words settled over her, filling a space she hadn’t realized was empty. She smiled, reaching out to lightly nudge his shoulder. “Guess we do.”

The fans, of course, noticed the Sagamihara track photo she posted later that night—a wide shot of the track at dusk, golden sunlight pooling over the asphalt. No sign of Yuki in the frame, no hints in her caption, just a simple line: “Sometimes, going back means moving forward.”

But to her, it felt like a quiet declaration—a way of honoring the years they’d spent running toward their dreams, passing each other like strangers on a shared road. And even if the whole world knew about them now, it didn’t change the fact that this was, at its heart, theirs alone: two kids from Sagamihara, two dreams that had always run parallel, finally side by side.

The end of the break came faster than either of them expected, and with it, a quiet sense of loss that lingered as Yuki prepared to leave for Europe. For years, leaving home had been easy, almost routine. But this time, Sagamihara felt different. It was as if his small hometown was charged with a new kind of energy—one that came from having someone there who felt like home in a way he hadn’t fully expected.

But, even though they couldn’t be in the same place, Yuki and YN settled into a rhythm of staying close despite the distance. Texts flew back and forth, little jokes and stories from their days. The hours spent on FaceTime became a kind of ritual, each call bringing with it a familiar warmth and comfort that reminded them both of those shared streets and the quiet dreams of Sagamihara.

One evening, on a call, Yuki mentioned an idea that had been buzzing in his mind for a while.

“You should come to a race,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes bright. “I mean, if you’re interested. It’s not exactly like a skating competition, but… it’s something you’ve got to experience live.”

Her face lit up on the screen. “Are you serious? I mean, I’ve watched some races since we started talking, but I’ve never seen it in person.”

He grinned. “Oh, it’s totally different live. The sound, the atmosphere… it’s like nothing else.” He paused, then added, “Besides, it’d mean we get to see each other again.”

It didn’t take long for her to say yes.

The day of the Grand Prix arrived, and as YN stepped into the bustling paddock, she was hit by a mix of excitement and nerves. She’d seen glimpses of this world through Yuki’s stories and posts, but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer intensity of it—the colors, the noise, the energy crackling through every inch of the place. There was a sense of purpose everywhere, a buzzing energy that felt so different from the serene calm of an ice rink but somehow familiar, too. It was the feeling of athletes chasing something, pouring themselves into every detail, every second, every breath.

And then, there he was. Yuki spotted her from across the paddock, weaving through the crowd with a wide grin, looking more animated than she’d ever seen him. They met with an easy hug, as if no time had passed since they’d last seen each other. She couldn’t help but laugh, taking in his racing suit, his excitement radiating off him in waves.

“It’s even crazier in person,” she said, glancing around, trying to absorb everything at once. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

He laughed, looking both proud and a little sheepish. “Yeah, it’s… it’s a lot. But you’ll get used to it. I wanted you to see it, though. This is… well, it’s my version of the rink, I guess.”

They walked through the paddock, with Yuki explaining everything from the intense setup behind each car to the team’s relentless preparation. She could see the pride in his eyes, the way he moved around his car with a sense of ownership, a reflection of the countless hours he’d spent on tracks, working toward this dream. And she could feel it—this was where he belonged, where every step and sacrifice from their childhood had led him.

He introduced her to a few members of his team, laughing as they teased him about finally bringing a friend to a race. She watched as he interacted with his team, realizing for the first time just how much responsibility he carried. The boy she remembered from Sagamihara had grown into someone steady and sharp, someone whose determination had molded him into a presence that filled the space around him.

When the race started, she was in awe. The sheer speed, the roar of the engines, the crowd’s cheers—all of it combined into a visceral thrill that went beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She found herself gripping the railing, watching Yuki’s car flash past, feeling every twist and turn like it was happening to her. She hadn’t expected to be so captivated, but here she was, heart pounding as if she were skating a program of her own.

After the race, when things quieted down, Yuki found her in the paddock again. He was exhausted, his face flushed, but his eyes sparkled with the high of it all. She threw her arms around him, feeling a surge of pride she hadn’t expected.

“That was incredible,” she said, still breathless from the excitement. “I didn’t know racing could feel like that.”

He grinned, a little bashful. “It’s different when you’re here, right?”

They spent the rest of the evening wandering through the emptying paddock, the buzz of the race still lingering in the air around them. As they walked, she told him about her own competitions—the nervous energy that would settle over her before she stepped onto the ice, the strange kind of stillness that would take over the rink just before she launched into her first jump.

And for a moment, they were just two kids from Sagamihara again, two dreamers who’d spent their lives working tirelessly toward something that felt bigger than themselves.

She looked over at him, her heart warming at the honesty in his expression. “I get that. I always felt the same way about skating. But I think… I think it makes a difference, knowing someone else understands it.”

They found a quiet spot near the track, sitting on a low wall overlooking the grandstands. The stadium lights cast long shadows over the empty space, and for a while, they just sat there, letting the silence fill the spaces between them. It was a kind of peace they hadn’t realized they’d been looking for.

“You know,” YN said, her voice soft, “when I was younger, I always wondered what it’d be like to actually talk to you. To know you, beyond just passing each other on the way to practice.”

Yuki looked over at her, his gaze steady. “Guess we’re finally getting that chance now.”

They sat in silence again, a comfortable warmth settling between them. And in that moment, with the empty track stretching out before them, they both felt it—the quiet realization that they’d found something here, something that had always been there, waiting for them to finally catch up.

As they sat there, Yuki reached out, a small, tentative movement that spoke volumes. She took his hand without hesitation, their fingers lacing together easily, naturally. It was a small gesture, one that felt both familiar and thrillingly new, like finding home in a place they’d both thought they’d left behind.

And in that quiet, empty paddock, with the echoes of the race still hanging in the air, they found a kind of peace they hadn’t known they were looking for—a sense that, no matter where their paths led, they’d always be able to find each other, side by side.

By now, Yuki and YN were inseparable, no matter how many miles lay between them. It was a connection that felt both effortless and profound, the sort of bond that didn’t need big declarations or elaborate plans to make sense. They’d found something in each other that went beyond their childhood familiarity and beyond the worlds of figure skating and racing—something that was uniquely theirs, a relationship that had grown quietly and steadily, almost as if it had been waiting for them all along.

Anyone who spent time with them could see it. Fans had a field day piecing together every time YN was spotted near a racetrack or every time Yuki happened to be in the audience at one of her competitions. There were moments when fans speculated wildly, building romantic theories out of mere glimpses, but Yuki and YN never fed into it. For them, what they had was too precious to make a spectacle of; this was theirs alone, and they were happy to keep it that way.

Friends and family saw it too, though their reaction was less of a surprise and more of a quiet understanding. For years, everyone who knew them had seen that glimmer of connection, the kind that didn’t fade with distance or time. Their friends laughed about it sometimes, joking that Sagamihara must have woven their destinies together before they even knew it themselves.

Even other drivers, those who saw Yuki at his best and his most vulnerable, couldn’t miss the subtle shift in him. There was a calmness to him now, a steadiness that came from having someone who understood the cost of his world, someone who’d been chasing dreams just as big. In the garage, Yuki would occasionally have a little grin on his face as he read a text, or he’d walk into the paddock with a quiet happiness that his team members hadn’t seen before.

“You’re different these days, you know?” one of the drivers remarked one afternoon, a teasing smile on his face as they sat together after a race. “You’ve got that… settled look. Like someone who finally knows where he’s going.”

Yuki didn’t deny it. Instead, he just shrugged with a slight smile. “Guess I do.”

And then, there were moments when they found themselves together in the same place, and it felt like the whole world disappeared. No matter how loud the roar of the crowd or how many people surrounded them, they had this ability to turn everything else into background noise.

One weekend, after one of Yuki’s races, they found themselves in a quiet corner of the paddock, hidden away from the bustling crowds. They had little moments like these, stolen pockets of time when the rest of the world felt a million miles away. YN leaned against the wall, watching Yuki as he recounted moments from the race, his eyes bright with excitement. She knew she’d never tire of seeing him like this, his passion shining through every word.

“It’s funny,” she said, smiling as he paused to catch his breath. “When we were kids, I’d see you after a long practice, and you’d look just as exhausted but never as happy.”

“Back then, we were both just pushing, you know?” he replied, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. “We were both fighting so hard to get somewhere, to make something of ourselves. I think we both forgot it could be this… good.”

She nodded, understanding completely. There was something different now—a balance, a kind of peace that came from knowing they’d reached the places they’d fought for, and that they had someone to share it with.

He reached out, his fingers finding hers, lacing together in a way that had come to feel so natural. “Do you ever think about how many times we must have passed each other? Back in Sagamihara, at the train station, or even just walking down the street?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly, a smile playing at her lips. “It’s like we were both so focused on our own paths that we didn’t even realize we were following the same one.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the moment, their hands still intertwined. There was a quiet magic to these moments that no audience could ever see, a depth of understanding that went beyond words. In each other, they’d found a quiet kind of solace, a shared understanding that had blossomed into something more, something as vast and unshakable as the dreams they’d chased all their lives.

When she finally had to return to Tokyo, they shared a hug that lingered a little longer than usual, the unspoken promises between them clear. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, his voice soft but sure.

“Soon,” she echoed, knowing that, wherever they were in the world, they’d always have this unbreakable thread tying them back to each other.

As she walked away, he stood there for a moment, watching her go, a feeling of certainty settling over him. What they had was beyond the limitations of time zones and stadiums. It was something far bigger than Sagamihara, beyond racing circuits and skating rinks. It was something timeless, something that was just theirs, waiting patiently for them all these years.

And as Yuki turned to head back to the track, a quiet smile on his face, he knew that whatever twists and turns lay ahead, he’d always have this piece of home with him—something that had started long ago, on quiet mornings and late nights in Sagamihara, and had grown into something far more beautiful than he’d ever expected.

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 3 months ago

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I wanna be yours

Tags: Shiu Kong x fem!Reader, smau, (dad’s) best friend to lovers, AGE GAP (reader is 21. Shiu is 36), probably definitely taboo, cursing, joke about suicide, violence mentioned, mdni

An: I hope you all like Yuki as a girl best friend in this series. It kinda feels weird having her here, but i think you need a friend in this series! Also, do you guys fw the twitter posts?

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. | Part four.

Taglist: @maddies-still-trying @loveyislost @midnightry @collectionofdolls @exquisitenesss

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

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PowerPointless

Part II

Part I

Formula 1 x Russell!Reader

Summary: you decide to throw your brother a birthday party based on the thing he loves most in the world: PowerPoint

#16 - Charles Leclerc

#18 - Lance Stroll

#20 - Kevin Magnusen

#22 - Yuki Tsunoda

#23 - Alex Albon

#24 - Zhou Guanyu

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multicohn · 6 months ago

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summary: while waiting for the outcome of qualifying, the cameras capture a precious moment between yuki and his girlfriend

warnings: none

pairing: fem! reader x yuki tsunoda

genre: drabble, fluff, short smau at the end

author note: i swear i have other drivers in my drafts but i just love yuki 😭😭

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

y/n didn’t attend many of yuki’s races because of her studies. he didn’t mind, but would get rather giddy upon having her with him. people suspected that yuki is in a relationship, but they lack proper proof. y/n didn’t really care if they went public, yuki would most likely go all keyboard warrior if someone disrespected her or their relationship — she feels bad for his manager who will have to face the consequences of yuki’s future actions.

“hey” yuki pressed a kiss to her cheeks as y/n typed away on her laptop

she had decided on staying in hospitality while yuki raced for three reasons: not to distract him, to do her course work, and worry in peace.

“you almost done?” qualifying has been delayed due to the rain, which frustrated y/n as the internet was absolutely trash

“just gotta some stuff, why?”

“wanna come down to the garage? i’m bored and the rain doesn’t look like it’ll clear up soon” y/n shrugged, she didn’t have any reason to deny his request

yuki smiled brightly and went to grab his jacket while y/n packed up. she softly laced her fingers with his together before they made their way back to the garage.

the vcarb crew members knew that y/n is someone important to their driver, but seeing them holding hands made everyone in his garage do a double take.

“where do you want to sit?” y/n looked around silently before plopping down onto the ground

“it’s cold!” she exclaimed immediately making yuki laugh

“of course it’s going to be cold” he playfully rolled his eyes before sitting down

y/n opened her laptop and started where she left off while yuki busied himself by talking with his race engineer.

“i’ll leave you two alone for a bit” yuki glanced over at his girlfriend who was laser-focused on her work

he let out a small hum before leaning onto her shoulder, y/n instantly rested her own on top of his without taking her eyes off the screen.

“hey, that reminds me of a song” he pointed to the strange word in her document

“what’s it called?”

“i’ll sing it to you” he lifted his shoulder off her head and y/n momentarily took her eyes off the screen

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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tsunodaradio · 3 days ago

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love on track ⛐ 𝐘𝐓𝟐𝟐

you wish, of course, that you could have accounted for yuki tsunoda. (or: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.)

ꔮ starring: yuki tsunoda x graduate student!reader. ꔮ word count: 5.4k. ꔮ includes: romance. profanity. reader is studying something statistics-adjacent, a bit of numbers talk, isack is a plot device again, idiots in love. highly recommended that you read love at first flight before this one! ꔮ commentary box: the tsunodaradio yuki transportation verse expands! writing this sequel to my first ever yuki fic as a birthday gift for the man, the myth, the legend 🚆 without further ado.. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

♫ take a chance with me, niki. oh shit...are we in love?, the valley. ? (who do you think of), any name's okay. me & you, honne & tom misch. maybe?, radi. happy accidents, saint motel.

The statistical probability of running into a stranger twice in your lifetime depends on a range of variables.

There’s location to consider. Frequency of interaction. Shared activities or interests. The probability may be low, but it is never zero. Even a 1 in 100,000 chance is still a chance.

So, in some ways, are you really that surprised to find a familiar face on this train?

It’s your second trip to Japan. The first one had gone by in a blur, and that was why you came back. You hadn’t felt like you were able to sufficiently enjoy yourself and you figured a country as beautiful as this one deserved a little more respect. A longer stay. More touristy commitments.

The Sunrise Izumo Express gave you that chance. A sleeper train route of 12 hours, boasting Pinterest-worthy views of the country’s mountains and lakes within the range of Tokyo to Izumo. You had timed your vacation specifically around the snowy season.

Do you wish you could have gotten a private room on the train? Of course.

Did you cheap out a bit so you could buy more wagyu? Definitely.

You find yourself on the top berth of a double-deck sleeper. It’s not much. Curtains for privacy, a reading light, an overhead fan. A barely-there wooden separator will keep you from being shoulder-to-shoulder with whoever sits—or lays—next to you.

As you squeeze yourself into the small space, you try to think of comparably positive experiences. It feels like… summer camp. Sure. That’ll work.

The train is set to depart at 10 PM on the dot. You glance at your watch. Half past nine, and the space next to yours is still empty. If you’re lucky, it will stay that way.

Unfortunately, luck has never been as good to you as numbers have.

At approximately 9:22 PM, the Familiar Stranger climbs on to the berth next to yours. He grunts when his head hits the top of the train. He falls onto the thin mattress with an incoherent cuss. You offer him a rueful smile.

He grins back.

Then does a double take.

“Wait,” he says, words garbled with an accent you can’t quite place yet. “I know you.”

You nearly start sprouting numbers about this being only your second time in Japan, about the low likelihood of you recognizing anyone in this foreign land. You hold back just enough to evenly say, “I don’t think so.”

“No, no,” the stranger insists. “I know you. I know you from somewhere.”

The thought is laughable. You’re a tourist, for God’s sake. Nobody—most especially the person you’re supposed to sit-slash-sleep next to for the next 12 hours—should know you.

Despite your growing irritation, you stand your ground. “I’m sorry,” you say firmly,, “but I think you have the wrong girl.”

You try to pull the curtain close. The stranger’s hand darts out, stopping you at the very last moment. You’re already contemplating how to flag a conductor down for potential harassment.

The man opposite you opens his mouth, ready to push, when a voice rings out. “Hadjar? Is something wrong?”

Your head snaps up.

Again, we go back to the plain and simple fact: 1 in 100,000 is still a chance. Today, that 0.001 percent glares up at you like a neon sign in a dive bar. Bright, oppressive, unavoidable.

Yuki Tsunoda is standing at the foot of your bunk.

He looks a little different than you remember. To be fair, it’s been over half a year.

Six months ago, on your first flight to Japan—your first flight ever—happenstance had put you in the seat next to Yuki. You chatted. Fell asleep on each other.

Held hands throughout turbulence.

And, at the end of it all, he had slipped you his number on a scrap of tissue, asking for the statistical probability of a text.

“You,” Yuki chokes out, eyes widening almost comically.

He says your name afterwards, and you wince. He doesn’t say it like a curse or an insult. It comes out more like a suspension of disbelief, like he’s just seen someone come back from the dead. At this rate, maybe he has.

“Airplane crush!” the stranger next to you—Hadjar, right, that’d been his name—announces triumphantly. “You are Yuki’s airplane crush!”

That doesn’t help. At all.

Yuki shoots Hadjar a withering glare before turning back to look at you. “What are you doing here?” Yuki demands. He’s gripping the edges of the bunk so tightly that his knuckles have gone white.

“Vacationing,” you say defensively. “What are you doing here?”

“This is literally my home country!”

“I mean,” you stammer, “this is the cheapest option on this train. Couldn’t you, like, afford a compartment or something?!”

“Yuki insisted on the regular seats,” Hadjar interjects. “He wants me to get the authentic Japan experience.”

Oddly enough, it’s the way Hadjar says those two words—regular and experience—that finally clues you to his accent. French. Your seatmate is French.

You have bigger fish to fry, though, because Yuki is still staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real. Before you can decide if you should apologize or brush the whole thing off, Hadjar is already making an executive decision that is determinedly bad for everybody’s welfare.

“Let’s switch, Yuki!” Hadjar says, enthusiastic in the way only a wingman could be. “I will take the bottom bunk!”

No, you mean to say, but you don’t know how you’d manage that without sounding rude. Yuki has a little less tact. He immediately tries to refuse, stuttering words like don’t and Isack and I am going to kill you.

Hadjar only gathers his things and begins to scramble away, completely ignoring Yuki’s protests. Hadjar even throws you a conspiratorial wink over his shoulder, like he’s doing you a favor. Like your heart hasn’t sunk to your ass at the prospect of what the next 12 hours is going to be.

You hear them bickering below you, just out of sight. Low voices, curt exchanges. A lot of the hissing seems to be coming from Yuki.

You lay down on your side, facing away from the berth that’s either going to be an overzealous Frenchman or a guy you ghosted after a long-haul flight. You find yourself facing what seems to be an elderly Japanese woman, already setting up her nighttime skincare routine. It’s not the worst of sights.

The bunk you’re pointedly trying to avoid creaks under the weight of a body. You hold your breath, lying in wait. And then—

“Why didn’t you text me?”

You have to give it to Yuki. Getting the hard question out of the way, right off the bat, is admirable.

You keep on holding your breath. Maybe if you don’t move an inch, he’ll leave you alone. Wishful thinking.

“I know you’re still awake,” Yuki says, tone caught halfway between amusement and exasperation. “The train has just left the station.”

With a sigh, you turn. Yuki is seated upright, leaning against the window. You hate to admit it, but he’s still as attractive as you remember. The mop of black hair, the faint five o’clock shadow.

In the dimming lights of the train, you zero in on things you hadn’t noticed before. His stack of chrome jewelry, his designer wristwatch, his muscles rippling with every small movement he makes.

You blink. Woah. Where did that last thought come from?

Anyway.

You clear your throat. He speaks up again, his gaze fixed on some nondescript point in the berth across from him.

“I gave you my number,” he says matter-of-factly.

You sit up, leaning your own back against the window. This doesn’t feel like a conversation to have while you’re curled up over the mattress, ready for sleep. Now both you and Yuki are glaring into the distance if it’ll mean you don’t have to look at each other.

“I didn’t think you’d actually be waiting for a text,” you confess as you pick at a loose strand of the train-issued blanket.

When you found out who Yuki was—really was—it made no sense to act on the number entrusted to you. On the plane, he had just been a nice seatmate who you thought you could spin into a story. A tidbit for future Two Truths and a Lie games.

But then you landed in Tokyo, and you found out he was a racecar driver, and suddenly reaching out to him was out of the cards.

“Besides,” you add, aiming for levity, “I’m pretty sure you do that all the time.”

“Do what?”

“Give out your number.”

A beat. One long enough to make you realize your mistake before Yuki points it out himself.

“I don’t,” he says, voice so soft and hurt that you can only pray, with every fibre of your being, that the ground might swallow you whole.

It doesn’t. You reach for the second best thing. “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely, turning your head so you’re looking straight at Yuki.

To your surprise, he mimics the move. You’re both looking at each other as the train rumbles out of Tokyo station, starting what will undoubtedly be a long journey.

“Are you sorry for not texting?” Yuki asks, and it strikes you what kind of person he is.

You recognize the lightheartedness in his tone. He’s probably still offended, but he’s trying to tease you right now. Trying to make light of the situation.

“I’m sorry for assuming you have bitches in every city,” you offer in return.

Yuki laughs. It’s a bark of a surprise sound, jolted out of him like he hadn’t expected it. But you had. You had wanted to get that exact reaction out of him.

It eases some of the tension in his shoulders, makes him look at you with a little less of the flight instinct. It’s not absolution just yet; you know you’re not out of the dog house.

But you decide you’ll take it. This small win, this break in the surface pressure. What was the statistical probability of having another 12 hours with Yuki ahead of you?

The very least you could do was try and make it tolerable.

You had a plan.

This whole thing about sleeping during the first hour and waking up for the sunrise. You had stayed up during the day for it, eager to make sure you wouldn’t miss anything that would justify the trip or the price tag on it.

But you don’t realize how difficult it is to fall asleep here.

It doesn’t even have anything to do with Yuki. Okay, well, that’s a lie. It’s not entirely about Yuki. He’s part of the reason, though he’s mostly out of your hair as he tries to feign interest in whatever manga he’s reading.

Your shared history—or lack thereof—exists in the negligible space between you. He’s so close that you can hear the music leaking through his AirPods.

You’re intent on falling asleep. On keeping your back turned to Yuki, fixed instead on the snoozing grandma across you.

Someone is snoring like a chainsaw below you. Hadjar, probably.

Yuki steals the thoughts right out of your head. “You’re lucky you’re not next to him,” he says dryly, making you jump a bit.

You’re still hopeful you’ll fall asleep, so you stay curled up in your bunk as the train hurtles past the sights of Japan. It’s too dark to see anything but shadows of buildings and trees.

“Does he snore like that all the time?” you ask quietly, not wanting to wake up the woman next to you.

“Unfortunately,” Yuki chirps from behind you. “I’m a bit jealous. He’s the type to fall asleep anywhere, at any time.”

“Are you two teammates?”

There’s a moment’s pause. “You know, I thought you would be a little more invested in F1 after getting a driver’s number,” he says, that hint of amusement back in his tone.

A snort of laughter escapes you. Your F1-obsessed best friend had gone ballistic over the knowledge you sat next to Yuki the entire flight; you withheld the fact his number was now in your phone, knowing full well that it would become a whole thing.

Maybe you had resisted the urge to Google ‘Yuki Tsunoda’ once or twice. Maybe you were a little more tuned in with your best friend’s ramblings over the championship standings. But it was never enough to truly get you into the sport, to see what all the hype was about.

Besides— “You told me you were a chauffeur,” you point out, still speaking to the divider.

“You assumed I was a chauffeur,” he amends. “It was too funny to deny.”

“You could have corrected me.”

He pauses. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Would it have changed anything? If I told you I drove cars in circles?”

Well, when he puts it that way. You try to think of what that plane ride would have looked like if you knew from the get-go that he was a racecar driver, that he was revered in a sport you didn’t really understand. You like to think you might’ve just rattled off more car statistics—effectively scaring him off.

But would it have changed anything, like the way you catalogued his laugh, the way you blushed when he flirted with you, the way you napped in his side like it was somewhere you belong?

“No,” you say quietly. “Probably not.”

“Exactly.” The way Yuki says the word is loaded with implication. He sounds smug and sad all at once.

You try to unpack it, try to make sense of it the same way that you navigate numbers. But there is no equation to this, no logic. This is emotion, and sentiment, and the held breath of a situation neither of you thought you would be in.

After a beat too long, you hear him ask, voice softer now, “Is that why?”

“Why—what?”

“Why you didn’t text me.”

He’s asking if it’s because he lied. Because he omitted facts of the story, twisted the narrative like he was hoping to make the medicine go down easier.

You knew from the get-go that some white lies were being told. That was always the case with strangers, anyway. You could be whoever you wanted to be for a few precious hours, cosplay as an ideal self or somebody even far worse. You figured it was always going to be black and white with chance encounters like the one you shared.

You weren’t meant to find each other again. Except Yuki had wanted to, maybe, with his stunt of his scribbled-down phone number, and you decide you can at least afford him a little bit of honesty.

“Kind of,” you breathe. Him lying about being a chauffeur was only partly the reason why you never reached out.

He picks up on the hesitance almost immediately. “There’s more to it?”

A corner of your lip twitches upwards. Yuki doesn’t see, and so you let the little smile tug. Just for a second. Just enough.

“There’s always more to it,” you say vaguely.

“Come on, then,” he urges. “We’ve got time.”

You laugh. Soundlessly, because you don’t want to bother any other passengers. Your shoulders shake all the same as you try to dismiss him with a firm, “Good night, Yuki.”

You’re still not looking at Yuki, but you can hear the grin on his face when he says good night back.

You dream of race cars made of sushi, cherry blossoms with numbered petals, and the sound of Yuki’s smile.

When you wake up to the gentle vibrations of your phone alarm, you’re surprised to find Yuki is still seated upright.

He has his back to the window, his eyes still trained to his phone. It’s attached to a power bank now, and he’s scrolling through what seems to be the same manga he had been reading earlier. You glance at your phone—confirming you had about seven hours of sleep—before properly curling in on yourself to look to Yuki.

“You didn’t sleep?” you ask, voice raspy with drowsiness.

He looks up from his phone, offers you a one-shouldered shrug. “Nah,” he says, though he doesn’t really go on to explain why.

You try to wipe out the bleariness in your eyes. With a yawn and a pathetic excuse for a stretch, you roll over. A pinkish dawn is beginning to creep in outside the train window.

You left no part of your itinerary up to chance, so you’d noted everything from the time of the day’s sunrise to which berths had the best view.

You wish, of course, that you could have accounted for Yuki Tsunoda. Yuki, who pockets his earbuds and locks his phone. Yuki, who awkwardly maneuvers so that he’s lying down on the bunk next to yours.

Yuki, who just outright copies you. Stomach flat to the thin mattress, gaze fixed on the countryside roaring past. You’re not about to escape him, you realize. Not today.

“Do you have another race in Japan?” You hear yourself ask. Your voice is still pitched low, not wanting to rouse the other passengers who are all still getting up themselves. “Is that why you’re here?”

“There’s only one Japan race per season,” Yuki answers patiently. “The season just ended.”

“Ah.”

So, that time you’d seen him—that had been his only home race. You don’t know how any of the sport works, and it’s beginning to frustrate you a bit. Was it just a matter of who finished first? Did he have to drive any particular way? Were him and Hadjar in the same car or something?

All those questions seem inconsequential to the one on the tip of your tongue. You stammer through it, not wanting to ask Did you win as much as, “Did you… do well?”

A flicker of an expression on his face seems to indicate the topic is a touchy one. But your question fully sinks into him, and he does that thing again. The one where he’s not-quite smiling; the corners of his mouth, lifting just so.

“I drove safe,” he says, and it nearly takes the wind out of you.

“That’s good,” you manage.

And, just in case you forgot, he adds, “Because you told me to.”

Your parting words, blurted out in place of goodbye. Yuki, turning in the line of moving people on the plane, with damning hope on his face. When you had called his name, he had probably thought you might say something else. Ask for his number, maybe.

Instead, you’d just said Drive safe, and now the words haunt you.

“You’re just saying that,” you groan, burying your face in one hand. You’re trying to hide the way your own expression has betrayed you, the way you’ve cracked a grin.

Peeking through your fingers, you see the way that Yuki has started to beam. It crinkles the crow’s feet on his face, shows off a gap between his two front teeth. He keeps his eyes on the scenery even as he glows like the day that’s just about to begin.

“You’re right,” he agrees, words measured and slow. “Guess I just wanted to see you smile.”

Outside, dawn breaks. You lift your head, your chin over your folded arms, to watch it happen.

The December snow blankets Japan’s countryside in sheets of white, reflecting the orange and the yellow of the rising sun. It’s a stunning panorama, a postcard for halcyon days. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of words that could probably describe just how breathtaking the view is.

All that comes out of you is a dazed murmur of “Pretty.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Yuki stealing a glance at you. You hadn’t grown up on a diet of romantic comedies, hadn’t read fanfiction or watched as much TV as you might have liked. So how could you have known?

How could you have known he would respond, voice barley above a whisper—like he’s saying it to himself—”Yeah. Pretty,” while still looking at you?

How was your heart supposed to stand a chance?

“Talk numbers with me.”

You glance up from the Japanese city maps spread open on your lap. Yuki has abandoned his manga-reading and has also abandoned feigning disinterest in you.

“Numbers?” you repeat dumbly.

“Numbers,” he confirms.

You’re a little surprised he remembers. In hindsight, he’s remembered everything else; your obsession with statistics was probably much more defining than, say, the last thing you’d said to him.

“What kind of numbers?” you ask. A little defensive, a little suspicious.

“I don’t know,” he says. “How much of Japan uses trains?”

“69 million people daily,” you answer instinctively, knee-jerk in your admission.

“69. Nice.”

“Seriously?”

Yuki shrugs, something glinting in his eyes as he continues to sit cross-legged across from you. You try not to mistake the glimmer for affection. “What else?” he prompts.

You blow a strand of hair out of your face. “I don’t know what you want to hear,” you shoot back, a hint of annoyance finding home in your tone. “The railway system operates around 26,000 trains daily. You have great punctuality rates. Average delay of just 1.6 minutes per train. The model share’s at 72.2 percent, and—why are you laughing?”

“I’m not laughing,” Yuki says in between laughter.

You resist the urge to chuck a map at him. You only glare, waiting for him to calm down before you speak. “You asked for the numbers, man,” you grumble.

Surely you can’t be blamed for sounding a little hurt. You’re not about to get into it with Yuki Tsunoda, of all people, but there’s a lot of history behind the sting. Years of getting made fun of for different interests. Grating laughter, scraped knees, side eyes.

Yuki sobers instantly. “I’m not… not laughing at you,” he offers apologetically, pulling his criss-crossed legs a little tighter around his body.

The skeptical look on your face urges him to go on. “It makes me happy,” he says, “hearing you talk about numbers.”

“It’s just me nerding out,” you deadpan.

“It’s you lighting up,” he interjects. “It’s a good look.”

“What is this, Yuki?”

Record scratch. Freeze frame. Yuki stares at you, unblinking, unmoving. You stare back. The train chugs along. Your words hang in delicate balance. You wish, for a moment, that the maps in your hands could guide you through the next four hours, looming over you like a guillotine.

“What’s what?” he asks. It’s his turn to sound wary, to try and build up walls.

You chip at them anyway. “What are you doing?” you press.

“I’m talking with you.”

“You’re flirting with me.”

“I am,” he agrees without missing a beat. “I thought I’ve made it very clear that I’m interested in you.”

“Why?” Your fingers are curled around the paper maps; your voice, surprisingly level amid the din of noise in the train car. “Why want someone you barely even know?”

Yuki opens his mouth.

“Yukino!”

Hadjar’s head pops up at the foot of the berth. He has a shit-eating grin on his face, which means he’s probably blissfully unaware of what he just interrupted. “I am going to try the noodle vending machine,” the Frenchman announces excitedly. “Coming with?”

The moment between you and Yuki goes flat like a soda left out for too long. You glance away, angling your face back towards the window. The views are all still stunning, but the pang in your chest makes them feel a little less enjoyable.

Yuki’s gaze lingers on you. When he finds nothing he can cling to, he gives a jerky nod to Hadjar and reaches for his wallet.

As he steps down from the top bunk, ready to follow his friend to the mythical vending machine, Yuki calls out a question that jolts you out of your moping.

“Do you know the statistical probability of love at first sight?”

You look back at him. There’s no teasing on his face now. There’s nothing there but the serious set of his jaw, the purse of his lips that makes your heart thump, thump, thump beneath your ribs. It’s the kind of look you imagine he would sport before getting behind a wheel.

“1 in 5 people,” he answers for you. “I looked it up the moment we got off our flight.”

You’re half expecting Yuki to spend the last couple of hours with Hadjar. Out of sight, out of mind. Running from what was probably a love confession, all things considered.

To his credit, Yuki doesn’t hide. He comes back an hour later, sure, but he still comes back. Climbs up the berth, settles into the bunk next to yours.

Suddenly, it all feels so insufficient. The sheer curtain you could pull between you. The sorry excuse for a wooden divider that barely comes up to your knees. The one hour you have left to figure out what to do.

What you want.

You’re gnawing your lower lip, pretending to be very interested in the quaint prefectures flying by. Yuki, whether he’s conscious or not, mimics your stance again.

For a couple of beats, all you two do is stare out the window. Then, simultaneously—

Your voice is remorseful; Yuki’s, contemplative. “I’m sorry.”

You both start. You both laugh. It’s an awkward sound, but it makes things a little easier.

“You first,” you say, and Yuki concedes without resistance.

“I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that,” he says. “You don’t owe me anything. I—I don’t know much, just that I left that plane really hoping to hear from you.”

There’s a twinge in your chest, put there by the sincerity in Yuki’s words. “I know,” you say, and he shoots you a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Do you know how bad I was?”

“How bad?”

“I spent an entire night looking up academic conferences in Tokyo.” He laughs, self-deprecating but unyielding. It’s just a fact to him, just a story being pressed into your palm. “I tried to find the one you might be at.”

But it’s not just a fact or a story to you. You try to imagine Yuki, folded over in some Tokyo hotel, scrolling through SNS page after page of conferences in hopes of finding you. Finding you. “That’s crazy,” you say through the ringing in your ears.

“Well, I’ve always been a little crazy,” he says casually, as if he hasn’t just tilted your world on its axis.

The conversation lulls as the train speakers crackle. There’s an announcement, first, in Japanese, then heavily accented English. We will be arriving at Izumo station in thirty minutes.

A ticking time bomb. Half an hour of honesty.

“Your turn,” Yuki urges gently. Like he, too, might detonate the time bomb by dissecting what’s still unsaid between you two. “What are you sorry for?”

A lot of things, you think, but you decide on the most glaring one. “That I didn’t text.”

Yuki doesn’t smile, but it’s a close thing. Something on his face seems to ask, We’re still stuck on that?

You are, very much so. You’ll be stuck on it until it’s out of your system, until Yuki understands.

“Are you about to tell me why you didn’t?” he challenges.

You hedge him with a taunt. “If you ask nicely.”

He chuckles. It sounds far too fond to be mistaken for anything outside affection. You’re not expecting him to actually take you up on it; you half-pray he lets it go. Because what business did Yuki Tsunoda have begging you for—

“Please.”

There’s no shame on his face. Just an earnest sort of thing, a reverence you don’t deserve. It makes you burn from the inside.

Yuki is asking you. Not commanding, not demanding. Asking, testing, seeing how much you’ll give and how much you’ll hold back.

And maybe you’re tired of holding back.

You take a deep breath. Steel your nerves.

“It’s not because I found out you’re Japan’s golden child,” you mumble. “It’s—it’s the numbers.”

“The numbers.” You feel the tips of your ears flare at the way Yuki repeats the words. That heady mix of amusement, confusion, disappointment. Here we go again, he’s probably thinking, because he knows you but doesn’t know you.

He knows you enough to recognize that numbers matter to you, but he doesn’t know what numbers you’re talking about just yet.

So you let him fucking know.

Inhale.

“40% of couples in long-distance relationships break up,” you blurt out, ignoring the way his eyes widen imperceptibly. “Usually, they already start seeing cracks four months in—”

He says your name as a low laugh escapes him. That burns, too. How your name sounds on his lips. How you’ve liked the sound of it since that very first time, months and months ago.

You go on, “—and I looked it up too. Love at first sight has happened to about 60% of people. That may seem like a big number, but the results are inconclusive—”

He says your name again. A little more perplexed, this time.

You ignore him again. Breathless, red-faced, with your heart at your damn feet, you keep going. “—and I don’t know how to do this,” you say, that damn helplessness rearing its head. “Numbers don’t hurt you. People do. I don’t want us to end up as a statistic in some grad student’s study about why Formula One drivers can’t date.”

Exhale.

He stares at you. You stare at him. Japan flies by; the world spins on.

The time bomb ticks, ticks, ticks.

His next words are a statement, not a question. “You didn’t text me.”

It’s your turn to look at him like he’s beating a dead horse. “We’ve established that,” you say dryly.

“That means the statistical probability of you texting me was zero,” he says before you’ve even finished your sentence. “Is that right?”

You wince. There’s a lot of things you could say about hypotheses, about sample sizes, about his gross misuse of the term ‘probability’, but you’ll let him have this. It’s a callback to the scribbled note, the one you answered with your silence.

“Right,” you respond.

He changes the whole equation with his next question. “How much of you wanted to text me?” he asks, his eyes a little wild, his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

Because this—this is the question that mattered.

Not why didn’t you text, not what would have happened if I had. He’s asking about the nights you spent staring at the newly saved contact, about the moments you typed out something only to hit backspace. That Google search you made about How to text first. That one evening you got drunk and contemplated outright calling, just to see if he would pick.

Countless variables. Endless numbers.

How much of you wanted to text Yuki?

“A hundred percent,” you answer, and he melts.

Not in an obvious way. His shoulders slouch forward; his hands stop fidgeting. He takes in a shaky breath, the sound of it rattling in his chest, and then he stares straight at you like it’s the last time he’s going to get to do it.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he confesses. Your heart damn near stops in your chest.

“What’s stopping you?”

If it’s a matter of distance, you’ll close it. You’ll climb into his bunk and kiss him senseless if you have to. You mean to say all that, except Yuki’s laughing, his head thrown back and his brow scrunched, and you don’t want to miss a moment of that joy.

You watch. You wait. You crack a grin when he manages, voice tinged with frustration, “Fucking Isack had me trying all these crazy ramen flavors. I think you deserve more than a garlic-flavored kiss.”

And now you’re giggling, too, because Hadjar had tried to set you up but was also ultimately the one blocking your paths. You and Yuki probably look insane—weathering this laughing fit as the overhead speaker announces you’ll be at the end station shortly.

You have an itinerary. Plans. Bookings. You’re not about to rearrange that for Yuki, just as much as you don’t want him to ditch his friend for your sake. You give the boy the next best thing.

“Okay,” you say. “Next time, then.”

Yuki chokes on air mid-laugh. “Next time?” he repeats, and, oh.

The hope in his tone is enough to make you think garlic-flavored first kiss be damned. You’ll do it. You just want to see if his smile tastes as good as it looks, as good as it sounds.

You hold yourself back. Barely.

You’ll take your chances instead. Any chance you have with Yuki—no matter how small it may be—you’ll take it.

You fish out your phone from your pocket. Yuki watches, bewildered, until you show him your screen. A text, sent mere seconds ago, starting a conversation thread with a contact named Yuki 🐮✈️🚗—

next time. ⛐

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