sometimes i remember that in my fav f1 discord, we all had to come out to each other as rpf readers and writers because we all pretended that it was weird for so long because we were scared. we spent an entire day using the confessions channel to anonymously admit to reading and writing rpf just to end it with a writing channel and a bunch of recs being traded and truly, thats friendship
alexander albon/oscar piastri, post canada gp 2026, established relationship, slice of life; not actually the dinner date but what comes before
(864 words)
***
Oscar has the decency to look sheepish as he closes the door to Alex's home behind him. The lock clicks resolutely shut. Stuck with the lion now, Alex thinks morbidly. It's only been three weeks since he's given Oscar a copy of his key. Oscar had looked up at him, mid chewing his sandwich while watching the cricket or whatever he put on TV, and smiled so softly at Alex that a whole New Year's sparkler went off in Alex's stomach. Stray salad leaf hanging from the corner of his mouth or whatever. Alex had been ready to give him everything, at that moment. Stuck with the lion for life, if you want.
So now Oscar is using his new key to come grovelling for ramming into Alex and ending his race. No matter that he already apologized right after the race, via text but only for lack of opportunity. By the time Oscar had finished his own Sunday - pointless as well - Alex had already been done with media and barricaded himself in his driver's room, busy leaving Oscar on read.
So, that's how they get here: Monday evening. Oscar, lingering sheepishly in the entry way. Alex, on his back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, feeling all sorts of conflicting things.
“Is it alright that I used the key?” Oscar says.
Alex shrugs. “Sure. I didn't say it was for emergencies only or anything.”
“Feels like an emergency anyways.” Oscar's voice is closer now. Alex can see him moving closer out of the corner of his eye.
“Me being mad at you is an emergency?” Alex says. It's supposed to be a joke, mostly, but-
“Yes,” Oscar says plainly and Alex finally squints against the overhead light to look at him. There's a smile tugging at the corner of Oscar's mouth, but his eyes are serious.
“I'm not actually mad at you. You know that, right?”
Oscar shrugs. “Figured it was worth checking.”
Alex sighs. Honestly, what is he supposed to do with this guy. “Come ‘ere,” he tucks at the corner of Oscar's shirt until Oscar lays down half on top of him, half squished between the couch cushions and Alex's hipbone.
“Ouch,” Oscar huffs and wriggles until he likes his spot, starfished and one leg between Alex's. He's like a dog sometimes, like this.
Alex lets his hand card through Oscar's hair. It's dry and knotted. Airport hair, surely.
“Did you come straight here?”
“Mhm,” Oscar hums in confirmation. He's halfway to dozing already, for sure, switch turned from guarded to cozy. Like a dog.
“You know, I already told Sky that it was an unfortunate mistake. And that I don't blame you. I mean, you could've saved yourself the trip.”
Oscar's breath is tickling Alex's collarbone where he's tucked Oscar into his armpit. Slow and steady. Cool, calm and collected.
“Yeah no, I saw that,” Oscar says. “Still had to- you know. Had to make sure you weren't chatting shit.”
“Do you always check up on someone when you crash into them?” Alex gasps, fake horrified, fully over it now. “Don't tell me you turned up on Lando's doorstep like this last year.”
Oscar lifts his head, disgruntled. The hair on the side of his head that Alex has been teasing is already a mess. One of these days Alex'll get it to stand like a Mohawk, no products.
“Like what?” Oscar says and loses half the sentence in his battle with the Australian accent.
“Looking lost and apologetic and, like. Hm. Submissive and breedable?” Alex tries and gets a whack to the chest for his efforts.
“Rude,” Alex says and catches Oscar's hand in his. “First on track abuse and now, what. Domestic abuse?”
“I like the domestic part of that,” Oscar murmurs and curls his hand inside Alex's. “Sounds kinda nice.”
“He likes the domestic part of domestic abuse,” Alex whispers to the ceiling, incredulous. “Can you believe this guy?”
Oscar shakes in his arms with silent laughter. “Christ, not like that. You know what I mean.” Then he's quiet for a moment and Alex feels Oscar's hand leave his to sneak up his ribs. Splayed, possessive. He gets it. Sometimes those words shake him too, for a second. Domestic, boyfriend, emergency contact, home.
“I wouldn't, by the way. Follow up with anyone else.” Oscar's lips press to Alex's collarbone, dry and light. “For some reason I care more when it's you.”
“Jury's still out on why,” Alex says but Oscar shakes his head.
“Nah. Jury's pretty sure they figured it out.”
It's too much to do this so soon. Christ, they haven't even turned off the big light. Everything is bare and open.
Alex brings his hand back up to Oscar's head and squints against the light. “You owe me dinner,” he whispers. “I'll choose where.” Monaco is always pricey, but if Alex plays his cards right, he can really make Oscar's wallet hurt. Or at least make him pretend it does. He'll know the right moment to ask.
“Okay,” Oscar murmurs and even like this he manages to sound deadpan. “‘s a date.” And then he's asleep, just like that. Big light on and everything.
man i hate couples sometimes bc one of them be walking around with that fat of an ass and the other be walking around with that tiny of a waist like fuck off
so i’m on vacation in alaska and i have been for 10 days and im so tired but im so desperate to edit again. i havent had time so theres like 4 audios sitting in vsp untouched and i feel like im going crazy because wdym i haven’t edited loscar in over a week… ellyraeken, remember who you are
Summary: During a design meeting about his special helmet design for the Monaco GP, Oscar Piastri is shown a specific shade of blue that ties back to one person. One person who hasn’t spoken to him since the night he lost the 2025 WDC for reasons Oscar doesn’t know. After six months of unanswered texts and missed phone calls, where the only proof of life he had from Logan was the evidence of him liking Oscar’s social media posts, he hopes an orange-and-blue helmet will send the message he wants. And that it will be enough to break whatever silence has formed between himself and Logan Sargeant.
so what if a fic author wrote a little oneshot or something about oscar’s monaco helmet. and what if the idea was that logan hasn’t really spoken to oscar in a while for reason’s unbeknownst to oscar but logan’s been active on social media and liking oscar’s posts. and nothing this season is going right with all the DNS’s and how this was supposed to be his year after lando won the championship last year but the car isn’t there and he’s losing hope and oscar just wants to talk to his friend who borders on the edge of something more than friends but for some reason logan just won’t talk to him. so oscar makes his monaco helmet half orange and half blue, hoping to some higher entity that logan will see it and know it was for him. and what if the reason logan won’t talk to oscar is because the last time they talked, their friendship got to close to being something more and it freaked logan out because he’s had a thing for oscar since the prema days that he buried deep a long time ago and thought he was over but whatever moment they had dragged it back out and now he’s trying to take space to bury it again because logan thinks there’s no way oscar thinks of him like that and that he’ll lose oscar completely. what if someone wrote that and then posted it so i could read it…
everyone acting as if pialbon got divorced after canada as if alex wasn’t practically giggling and kicking his feet defending oscar in his post-race interview
I WISH YOU COULD KNOW ME AND I WISH I COULD KNOW YOU MUCH MORE SOMETIMES. I WISH I COULD DO NOTHING WITH YOU. SIT IN THE YARD WHILE THE DAY DIES, LEAVE IT ALL ON THE TABLE. AND ILL SAY I LOVE YOU AND MEAN IT THIS TIME. SAY IM SORRY FOR EVERYTHING ELSE. IF WE FOUND A WAY TO THE OTHER SIDE, ID BE WILLING AND ABLE.
