I WAS ALL OVER HER PT.2 O.P.

I WAS ALL OVER HER PT.2 — O.P.

pairings: oscar piastri x reader (romantic/platonic) | lando norris x reader (romantic)

part two of three, link to part one here

summary: lando and y/n relationship is on the rocks. y/n either makes the worst or best decision of her life. oscar is losing it and has a secret habit of street racing? (listen to empathy while he races).

warnings: pining, missed opportunities, cheating (mentioned), cheating towards the end, 18+ smut, jealous!oscar, toxic!lando, mirror sex, fingering + oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex sorta (stay safe), technically a HEA for oscar x yn? bumpy road to get there, though.

word count: 4.9k

dedicated to: @theonottsbxtch

authors note: this in no way speaks on my opinion of lando and what his personality may be like, i love him this is purely for the plot <3

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You stood in the doorway of Lando’s bedroom in his flat in Monaco, sighing as he went through your phone. His eyes scrunched and a scowl on his lips as he held up the phone for you to see. “Who the hell is that?”

Narrowing your eyes to look, it was another comment some stranger left underneath one of your posts, calling you beautiful. The issue, to Lando at least, was that the stranger was a guy. “I don’t know.”

Lando scoffed and pulled your phone back towards him. “Yeah well, he’s also in your DM’s.”

You tried not to roll your eyes, knowing that would only annoy him further. He was weirdly obsessed with any male attention you received, not that you ever entertained it but he always made it seem like you were the one doing something. “And how many girls are in your comments and your DM’s? It’s not like I ever reply, unlike you.”

It wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise, even with Oscar and all the girls reaching out to him it never bothered you, you knew that’s simply how it was with fame. But the fact Lando would actually reply to them made you uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to care as he waved you off again. “I’m just engaging with my fans, what excuse do you have?”

You baulked at him. “I don’t talk to them.”

“I’m sure you just deleted the chats.” He practically threw your phone at you before turning around to go back to his game.

You wished you could say this was the first and last time you had this conversation with him, but it was beginning to feel like a weekly occurrence. You didn’t understand, he even had the audacity to flirt with girls in front of you but would say he was just being friendly. And who were you to question him, anyway?

You felt lost, lonely. Thrown into the world of dating a celebrity who gave no reassurance and it was like everyone you cared about suddenly wasn’t available to talk anymore. Either because of time zones, work, et cetera. And Oscar… you had always felt like he was someone to lean on without feeling like a burden but even now he felt like a stranger.

Events were beyond awkward, he’d mutter a hello before practically running away from you. Anytime you tried to talk to him, there was an excuse to leave. Your daily texts came to a halt besides a Happy Birthday message and a bouquet of flowers that Lando had thrown away before you even had a chance to hold them.

You’d still sometimes catch him staring at you though, and it kept a little flame of hope alive in your heart that he didn’t hate you. That your friendship maybe was salvageable, it just needed time.

At a club following a relatively successful qualifying for McLaren one night, you had just walked away from the bar with a new drink and weaved between the crowd of people. You weren’t sure where Lando was, and part of you said you probably didn’t want to know. Worrying about all the what if’s was going to kill you. Taking a sip of your drink, you decided you wanted a bit of fresh air and moved towards the large balcony the club had. It was still crowded, but not nearly as much and you found a seat at an empty table.

You mostly people-watched for a while, letting the alcohol create a comforting blanket over your nerves when someone sat down across from you.

Oscar was looking at you, eyes a bit bloodshot and his hair a mess as he held a glass of what might’ve been whiskey. Your shock made you sit there stupidly for a moment and stare at him. Surprised he made the first move to initiate some sort of interaction, anxious to talk to him, angry he had been avoiding you, and mad at yourself for not trying harder to fix things.

“Hi.” He said, his voice a bit rough around the edges.

Apparently words were lost on you as you continued to stare at him.

He sighed, his breath shaking as he messed with his glass tumbler. “Are you happy?”

Pursing your lips, you finally pulled your eyes away from him to look at the city skyline. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re not answering.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Oscar.” Not when he was intoxicated, at least.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Please, I need to- are you happy?”

Dammit, your eyes began to water. Why was he always able to pull such reactions out of you so easily? “You don’t always have to try and save me, Oscar. I’m a grown woman.”

“The most remarkable people in the world still might want help sometimes.”

You looked away from him, biting at the inside of your cheek in a weak attempt to keep your breathing even and wiped a tear away. You missed him, you really did. And maybe this rift was your own doing. You knew you couldn’t blame yourself for Lando’s behaviour but sometimes it felt like everything would’ve been easier, better for Oscar, if you weren’t in the picture. If you had just stayed home and not agreed to come to that first race last season.

Standing up, you offered a tense smile. “I’ll see you at the race tomorrow.” And you walked away.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Oscar had never truly hated anyone before, but with each passing day he came dangerously close to yanking Lando by the collar of his shirt and punching him. The way his teammate so blatantly flirted with other girls while doing media events was beginning to lose its shock value on Oscar, but his anger just kept reaching a boiling point. Maybe he needed to be more level headed and mature about the whole situation, but knowing how much Lando was disrespecting you started to affect how Oscar raced. It wasn’t a hindrance by any means, but people were starting to notice how much more aggressive he was being on track.

A few days before a race weekend, teams were allowed to go out and walk the track to get a feel for it. Which was necessary on all accounts because the upcoming circuit had recently been resurfaced. Oscar had his hands in his pockets as he walked, paying close attention to the curves and the changes in elevation when a familiar waft of perfume caught his attention. It took him off guard, not expecting to find you out here but there you were, walking with Charles’ girlfriend Alex, who was taking their dog Leo for a stroll.

Your eyes immediately caught his, muttering something to Alex before heading in his direction.

He stood there like a deer caught in headlights as you approached, messing with your nails nervously the closer you got. Finally, stopping a few feet away you gave him a small smile. In an instant it was like all the ice that had built up over his heart the past few months began to melt.

“Walk with me?” You offered, extending an olive branch and he nodded, letting a small smile tug at his own lips as he began to walk again, you by his side.

It was quiet for a little while, the air a bit tense but nowhere near what it had been lately.

“I still don’t understand how you aren’t scared shitless when you get in those cars. The turns are so sharp and you come at them so quickly.” You muttered, gnawing at your lip and he couldn’t help but stare at the soft look of them before he forced himself to look away.

“Over time the fear goes away. There’s a thrill to it, I think. An adrenaline rush. Corners are the best part sometimes.” He offered, looking at you again only to find you already staring at him.

“Is that why you hold on to the door handle for dear life when I drive? For the thrill of it?” You joked and he found himself laughing, forgetting how easy it was.

“I think that’s my body going into fight or flight mode when you’re behind the wheel.”

You shoved him playfully, shaking your head with a grin on your face. The brief physical contact made his head spin and butterflies erupt in his stomach. He desperately wanted to touch you, hug you, something… he didn’t know. “I miss you. This.” The words were out before he could think more on it but he didn’t regret them either.

Coming to a stop in front of Oscar’s garage, you looked up at him and smiled softly. “Me too.”

Your eyes locked onto his, feeling like the world had stopped spinning and it was just the pair of you. Oscar didn’t have to think about anything else as you stood there in front of him. His best friend and the girl he knew had his heart. Slowly, he lifted his hand as your hair got tossed around by the breeze and he brushed it away from your eyes. Taking in the soft feel of your skin and an electric shock went from his fingertips and tore apart each of his nerves.

Pulling away, you turned to go meet your boyfriend and the world started to move again.

He flipped over in his hotel bed, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other found leverage on the mattress. Your soft and shaky breath sent shivers down his body, feeling your soft skin slide against his as he moved down the bed.

“Oscar,” you whimpered out, hands tugging at his hair as desperation began to control your movements. You were so beautiful, no matter where or how he saw you. But there was something akin to holiness as he looked at you spread out on his sheets beneath him. Naked and wanting. Wanting him.

“Relax for me, angel.” He pressed a kiss to your hip before moving down, licking a long stripe up your wet—

He shot up, sweat drenching his skin and a painful erection showing a tent in his sheets. Oscar groaned as reality caught up with him, pressing his palms into his eyes. “What is wrong with me?” He whispered to his empty hotel room, still wishing you could somehow be there next to him.

The sex dreams had always been a common occurrence the moment he realised he liked you. Years of built up sexual frustration and he always felt guilty about them afterward. You were his best friend yet every other night he fantasised about fucking you. The dreams never stopped, even when you were in a relationship. Even when he was in one.

His hands dropped as he stared out the window, depressed and frustrated. “I am awful,” he muttered. But Oscar knew he’d have one again. Part of him didn’t want them to stop, and he’d tell himself he could live with the guilt.

Later that day, maybe it was the lack of sleep or the constant pain of knowing you were with Lando, but when he caught his teammate slipping a girl his number he snapped.

Once they rounded a corner and no one was around, Oscar grabbed onto his shirt and slammed him into the wall, pinning him there with an arm against Lando’s chest. “You are such a joke.” He bit out.

Lando blinked at him in surprise before shaking away his shock, trying to shove Oscar off of him but the Aussie didn’t budge. “What is your problem, mate? Get the hell off me.”

“Does she know you’re out here messing around or do you like rubbing it in her face so blatantly?” Oscar was three seconds away from punching him before Lando shoved him more roughly, finally managing to break free from the wall.

He narrowed his eyes at Oscar before laughing, the sound of it dry and lacking all amusement. “Since when did you start giving a fuck about her again?”

Clenching just jaw, Oscar walked up to his teammate, his own eyes narrowed and his voice low. “Quit playing with her or I’ll run you off the damn track.” With that, he patted Lando’s shoulder once before walking away.

The Dutch Grand Prix was approaching and Oscar felt like he was losing it. You were everywhere. Plaguing his thoughts. In all his dreams. All he could think about. Him and Lando had hit a stand still in their working relationship and the friendship they had built came crumbling down when Oscar realised how much of an arse he truly was to you.

There was a small get together with a decent amount of the drivers and some friends at a townhouse Max had. The grill was now cool from the earlier barbecue and most of the crowd had moved inside as the night air grew chilled and rain was approaching.

Oscar felt suffocated inside the house, though. Everything was too bright and too close. You were everywhere yet nowhere at once and Lando was being a smug bastard, acting like a saint when he was really a devil in disguise. No matter how hard Oscar tried, he couldn’t stop looking at you. Wishing he was Lando and hating himself for it. Wishing he was the one who got to fall asleep next to you at night, knowing he could love you properly. Then Lando disappeared, and so did you and he felt his brain shatter into a million pieces. Knowing it wasn’t him made his chest physically hurt and he stumbled towards the back yard, not being able to breathe until the door was shut behind him and all the voices became muted.

He froze the moment he saw you laying in the grass, staring up at the moon.

“Hey,” you said, hearing his footsteps approach before he laid down next to you. The grass was damp from earlier rain but he didn’t care. You were there next to him, that’s all that mattered.

It was quiet for a while. The only noise was from the house and crickets, sometimes thunder from the distance. His mind was moving quickly, yet sluggishly, and still everything felt strangely clear all the sudden as he star gazed with you.

“Break up with him.”

You were silent, but he heard you take in a sharp breath before you whispered the next word. “What?”

“Break up with him.”

“Oscar—“

Turning to you and perching himself up by his elbow, he continued. “I know I waited too long. I know I didn’t communicate with you. I know I’m an arse for ignoring you. I’m sorry, I am, but— he is horrible to you. You’re not happy, I know you aren’t.”

You looked up at him, still laying down and the moonlight painted a heavenly sight before him as your brows furrowed. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“Why not? I know you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you—“

You finally sat up, eyes narrowed. “And what? You do? All this time you’ve apparently loved me but would tell me you weren’t interested and would go off dating other girls. What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Oscar?”

He quickly stood up to follow you as you also got up and began to walk away from him.

“Why put yourself through hell for him?” He bit out.

“I have spent years putting myself through hell waiting for you! I can handle him.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle him!”

You whipped around to yell something at him when the back door suddenly opened and Logan stepped out, eyeing the scene wearily. “Am I interrupting something?”

Before Oscar could say anything, you bit out a “Nope,” and stormed past the two drivers, disappearing into the house.

Logan quietly shut the door and raised a brow at Oscar. “Trouble in paradise?”

Oscar fell heavily onto a porch chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Something like that.”

Looking at his friend for a moment, Logan sat down across from him. “You know,” he started, “I’ve known you two for a long time and you’ve always seemed to work something out.”

Sighing, Oscar leaned back in the chair and thought about the last few months. Thought about that fateful night a few years ago. Logan must’ve been thinking about it, too.

“I know how messy it was the first time and how much you beat yourself up over it, but it worked out didn't it?”

“Did it?” Oscar asked. “I feel like we just kept pushing off the inevitable and now it’s blown up in my face.”

“Look, I know it sucked but you did the right thing not getting into a relationship with her back then. That would’ve blown up in your face. But now, man, you have the world at your fingertips.” He paused for a moment and rubbed at his chin. “Why’d you invite her in the first place?”

Oscar frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. You never invited her to your old races. You knew how busy you’d be once you started in Formula One, you wanted her here.”

He shrugged. “I mean yeah, but—“

“And now Lando is in the way?”

Oscar sighed, “yeah.”

The long time friends looked at each other, not sure whether or not to mention they both knew Lando was cheating on you. Logan caught him with some girl in a hotel bar, Carlos yelled at him a few weeks ago when he caught him with someone, and the list went on.

Oscar had a feeling you knew as well, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why you wouldn’t just leave the bastard.

As if reading his thoughts, Logan spoke again. “She might feel trapped, you know? Despite even the worst circumstances, it’s hard to leave relationships sometimes.”

“When did you get wise?”

Logan laughed and shook his head, standing up to pat his friend on the shoulder. “I always have been. Now, you have two options. One, run after her and try to fix this no matter what or else you’re going to go through the rest of your life wondering what if you had tried harder. Or two, you try to let go of it. Let go of her, and move on.”

Oscar licked at his dry lips and looked down at his hands, noticing the calluses he got from racing. “I can’t forget about her.”

“Then get off your ass and go after her.”

Logan didn’t have to tell him again. He patted the American on the back in thanks and took off into the house, only you were nowhere to be seen.

He caught sight of Charles and pulled him to the side. “Have you seen her?”

His friend looked at him knowingly, the Monegasque had a weird sixth sense on reading people and on more than one occasion he had offered Oscar some friendly advice on the matter of a broken heart. “She left, mate. Not with Lando though, if that helps.”

It did, and if Oscar wasn’t in such a rush he would’ve hugged the man.

He muttered a thanks before grabbing his keys and running out the door. He wasn’t sure where she was, but the first place he would assume is the hotel the McLaren team was staying at.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You shivered as you walked, your anger at everything beginning to fizzle away. Adrenaline had kept you warm for the most part as you got deeper into the city but now that it was fading you grew a bit nervous. A woman walking alone at night was never the safest or smartest decision.

But you had been so pissed off at Lando and angry that Oscar had been right. Right about everything. Lando was bad news but you were so desperate for attention you let a man start to slowly pick at you in ways he knew would make you crumble. He knew all your insecurities and would point them out to make a statement or if he got bored.

If you would’ve just been smart and waited a bit longer you could’ve been happy with Oscar. But… you had waited for years and you were tired. You knew it wasn’t your fault that he didn’t communicate how he had actually felt about you. That still didn’t solve any of the raging emotions going off inside you.

You heard a car approaching and kept your head down, hoping they would shoot past you. Much to your horror, the car with a strong sounding engine began to slow down. The deep rumble from it made your bones tremble, or maybe that was your fear.

Then a window rolled down and a familiar voice called out. “Get in the car.”

You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were being irrational, surely. But you kept walking, “go away.”

The car halted to a stop, a door opening and slamming shut and not a moment later Oscar was standing in front of you. Angry. “Get in the fucking car.”

You blinked at him. You knew he swore during races but hardly ever at you. You were about to argue with him, being fueled by pure stubbornness at this point when there was a loud crack of lightning and it began to rain.

“Fine,” you bit out, getting into the expensive car and at that moment you didn’t care if your wet clothes ruined the leather. Oscar didn’t seem to care either as he slammed his door shut.

He started driving once you buckled and you wanted to roll your eyes. He was clearly pissed at you, though you couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t like you did anything to him. What made it clear he was mad was the increasing speed of the car. He was always careful, always put together. Besides when racing, you weren’t sure you had ever actually seen him speed before.

Although you trusted him with your life, your mouth felt dry as you went around a wide corner, your body being pushed to the side by the force of it. “Oscar—“

“What the hell is wrong with you? Walking out here alone at night in a country you’ve never been in?”

“We both know that’s not why you’re mad right now.”

Oscar laughed, the sound rough on your ears as he whipped around another turn, the tyres losing a bit of traction from the rain but he manoeuvred into a drift and easily corrected the car with a complicated turning of the wheel and doing lord knows what with the gear shift.

This was absolutely not the time to be thinking such things but you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he looked breaking who knows how many traffic laws. Your thoughts only annoyed you though, not understanding why you had to like him. Not understanding why you let yourself get into the current position you were now in. Not understanding why you let Lando treat you like shit.

“So your driving isn’t any better off the track, either.” The cruel words slipped out on their own accord. You didn’t mean it. Maybe it was Lando rubbing off on you, maybe you were just making excuses.

Oscar didn’t say anything, his knuckles turned white on the steering and sped up, going well over the speed limit now and drifting, the back of the car swinging much too close to poles and buildings. It was reckless yet controlled all at once. Maybe this was his outlet. He wasn’t a big drinker, obviously didn’t dabble in drugs, he wasn’t violent, and a Formula One car was worth millions of dollars and too risky to take frustrations out on. Maybe he did this often, maybe that’s why he did it with expert precision as he raced through the streets of Zandvoort.

You didn’t know why, but when police sirens and flashing lights started to follow the car, you laughed. It was strangely liberating, watching Oscar let go of everything for once and for you to let go of fear.

Your eyes met his, red and blue lights gleaming off them and you two shared a smile before he raced off, evading law enforcement with a surprising ease and you wondered what other surprises Oscar still had in store for you after all these years.

He pulled into a dark alleyway between two buildings, quickly shutting the car off and turning out the lights. He lightly placed a hand on your back and pushed you down so you both weren’t in view from the back window. A few seconds later the police whipped by, neither of you moved till the sirens faded.

You were quiet for a minute, the only sound was your heavy breathing mixed with Oscar’s and you could just barely catch the gleam of his eyes in the dark as he looked at you. Sitting up, you messed with the hem of your shirt, a cold wave of reality hitting you. This felt like some sort of event horizon. Whatever happened in this car would determine if and how he’ll be in your life.

“Oscar,” you started quietly. He sat up as well, looking at you in the dark and hummed, patient. “Please tell me this all isn’t because I’m now something you feel like you can’t have.” The words were out, one of your biggest fears. Insecurities. Terrified he was only interested because suddenly you weren’t an option anymore. An option he’d always had.

“Angel, there was never anyone else.” His voice was so quiet you barely heard him, or maybe your heart was beating too loudly over his words. “I’m done for.”

You sucked in a breath, forgetting how to breathe as you looked at him. Your best friend. The man you’ve been in love with for years. The way he was looking at you, it wasn’t any different than how he usually did. You had just apparently been naïve to the sheer desperation in it.

“Oscar—“

His lips crashed against yours, your back hitting the door and his hands cupped your face, holding him to you.

You froze, only for a moment as your stomach dropped from the surprise. Then it came rushing back up to you and your fingers buried themselves in his hair, kissing him back with such ferocity you weren’t aware you were capable of.

One of his hands held the nape of your neck while his other hand quickly undid your seat belt, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He was so warm, soft yet rough at the same time and he tasted like heaven. As his tongue slid past your lips, dancing against yours you let out a moan that had him trembling against you.

Years. You had waited years to kiss him. You’ve dreamt about it. God, you even cried about it a couple of times. The pure longing you had been harbouring all this time had reached criticality and now you were just about to explode. His hands were all over you, exploring every inch as if he was a crazed man who found the holy grail and couldn’t quite believe it.

His tongue explored the inside of your mouth, hot and wet and he was practically breathing you in. Your nails raked through his hair, wanting so much more it felt maddening.

His teeth tugged at your bottom lip as he pulled away, his eyes heavy lidded and before you could utter a complaint his mouth latched onto your neck, just below your jaw. The sound that left your mouth was embarrassing but he seemed to love it, a moan leaving his mouth and vibrating through you as he left a wet trail of open mouth kisses down your throat, sucking and biting as he went.

You tugged on his hair, a whimper leaving his mouth but it was swallowed up by your mouth as you kissed him again. With one hand snaking up underneath your shirt, his other hand grabbed your wrist and placed it on—

Your brain short circuited by how hard his cock was. Not only that, but you were touching him. There. You could faint.

“Angel, please.” It was practically a whine as he kept kissing you, his hips pushing up into your hand. As if the sounds leaving his mouth commanded you, you squeezed his erection through his pants.

Oscar shuddered violently, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “Fuck.”

“Oscar.” You sounded needy. You didn’t care. And for a whole list of fucked up reasons, you didn’t care that you had a boyfriend.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, f1, maxverstappen1 and 1,926,378 others

landonorris yup 🏆 more like it

*tap to load more comments*

userone: LESGOOOOO

usertwo: twowinssss

userthree: anyone notice how tense lando & oscar were?

| userfour: yea… and landos gf. super weird

| userfive: neither of them liked this either

usersix: y’all see those dm’s some girl leaked???

| userseven: YEAAA lando has been lurkinggg

| usereight: embarrassing honestly

usernine: y’all see that video of oscar drifting through the city? wild

| userten: I KNOWWW it was sick. didn’t know he was like that

| usereleven: who do you think the girl was in the passenger seat?

usertweleve: MORE DM’S GOT LEAKED

userthirteen: lando is quite literally for the streets

userfourteen: is this why oscar has been racing dirtier? his teammate fucks over his best friend? yikes

comments have been disabled

part three found here

WISHFUL THINKING | KA4

pairings: kimi antonelli x unnamed fem! character

summary: kimi has had a bit of a thing for ollie’s best friend for a while now, only issue is, is that she’s under the impression he hates her guts.

song inspo; drive by halsey

warnings: a sprinkle of angst

wc: 2.7k

request; maybe Kimi antonelli, but just like fluff, maybe a bit of angst

It was hard to keep his eyes off her when she came to racing events. No matter what could be going on, no matter what chaos that may be ensuing— she stood out. Not to sound cliche, but Kimi often compared her presence to how rays of sunshine cut through clouds. People couldn’t help but stop and admire her.

It was no surprise that Ollie had been friends with her for so long. When getting into professional racing, it was like friends trickled through a filter. It wasn’t through any fault of their own, really. Life gets busy, schedules don’t match up, and the calls or texts eventually stop.

No matter what life had thrown at Ollie, she was by his side. There was that annoying little feeling buried deep in his chest, just below his heart that felt a bit envious at their relationship. Although Kimi was technically friends with her, it didn’t feel like enough.

He wanted more, and he knew he shouldn’t.

For a whole array of reasons. The obvious being she was Ollie’s best friend. The second, though he might be getting ambitious, is that maintaining relationships is hard in this line of work. Not impossible, that was proven on numerous occasions. But what had also been proven is that they could get messy.

Plus, he wasn’t exactly sure what the full depth of Ollie’s feelings were. He knew the English man cared for her deeply, he knew they hung out all the time, Ollie invited her to races, she would even stay at his house sometimes.

God, those nights where Kimi was invited were the worst.

He could still recall the first night he realised he was done for. Kimi had an early morning the next day so he had called it a night before anyone else, crashing in a spare room Ollie had set up for him. He had found himself looking at her throughout the night. Sure, he had always found her attractive but his throughts typically didn’t expand beyond that. It was such a simple moment, it wasn’t anything to shout at the stars in reckless abandon. Everyone had been out in the back garden for dinner when a bunny had appeared. The way her eyes had lit up, carefully walking towards it. Everyone had expected the bunny to run off at any sudden movement, but it sniffed her hand with its pink nose before cuddling into the scoop of her palm. She refused to move for two hours as everyone talked, not caring her trousers were getting stained by the damp grass. The bunny keeping her company all the while and Kimi watched as the rest of the world faded away from her.

He laid in that bed wide awake for what seemed like hours. Her laugh echoing down the hallway from the kitchen, almost taunting him and he felt his chest constrict with the sound. It was strange, like he was breathing for the first time and his chest had been hallow up until that point.

Ever since then he had looked for her everywhere, sought out the sound of her voice. Part of himself hating that Ollie was the one to make her laugh like that. It was devasting, confusing, and pathetic.

The first day of a race weekend was wrapping up and sweat seemed to cling to him stubbornly no matter how many times he dumped water over his head. His eyes, as always stuck on her and how she smiled up at his friend. He didn’t know what made him ask when Ollie walked up to him, maybe it was the heat or the exhaustion but the words slipped out regardless.

“Do you like her?”

Ollie blinked at him, his cheeks red from the heat. “What?”

Kimi felt childish. They weren’t in primary school but the way his stomach was erupting in butterflies at the mere thought of even holding her hand made him feel like a kid. “You know,” he gestured to her.

Looking over his shoulder in confusion, Ollie spotted who Kimi was talking about and his eyes widened before whipping back around. “No, ew. I mean, she’s lovely. But no.” He then narrowed his eyes as he caught Kimi smile faintly. “Hang on a minute.”

The Italian’s face dropped, not realising he was grinning slightly but he couldn’t help the surge of relief he felt. “What?”

“Do you like her?”

Kimi laughed, trying to brush off the claim but his friend saw through the rouse easily and he wasn’t sure he liked the look that bloomed on Ollie’s face. Not a moment later, Ollie called her over and Kimi felt his stomach drop.

“Wait what—“

“I’m having to do some extra interviews after this, some stuff for Haas. Are you okay if Kimi gives you a ride back to the hotel?”

She nodded, patting Ollie on the arm. “Yeah, that’s fine. Go have fun.”

With a wink in Kimi’s direction, Ollie took off, leaving Kimi to fend for himself. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank him or kill him for throwing such an opportunity at him. But opportunity for what? He couldn’t just assume she was interested.

There were small moments he considered, but he was sure he was just being delusional. That she was just being nice. It would be presumptuous of him to think anything could take place, but that small voice in his head urged him to at least try.

Rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, he met her eyes once before looking away. It wasn’t like she was necessarily intimidating, but he felt overwhelmed when he got to be close to her. “Let me get changed and then we can go, is that alright?”

She shrugged a shoulder impartiality, casual as ever and he wondered what mental training she went through to always be so calm. No matter what seemed to happen, she kept a level head. She was just…calm. Maybe that’s why the bunny walked up to her so easily, he saw somewhere that animals were really good at reading people and he knew she must’ve had a heart of gold.

“I’ll be quick.” He muttered, turning away and immediately kicking himself. Really? Was that all that he had? He had flirted with girls numerous times with a sense of ease that often surprised himself but he was suddenly robbed of all his language capabilities when it came to her.

She watched him walk away, feeling her heartbeat in her ears and every nerve ending felt on fire. If it weren’t for the wall she was leaning against, she was sure she would’ve fell to the floor.

Panic. She was panicking. And she was going to kill Ollie next time she saw him. The bastard knew she’s had a small crush on Kimi for the past year and then he goes and does this? No warning? Ollie was fully aware how she needed time to prep for things or else she would spiral.

Kimi was going to be giving her a ride back to the hotel. Her mind spun with hopeless longing and all the what if’s, not that there would likely be any. Any time her and Kimi were alone together he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He wouldn't look at her, he’d barely utter a word, just…nothing. No inkling of interest beyond kindness and being friends by default through Ollie.

And it killed her. Even now, he seemed less than thrilled at the prospect of driving her. It was confusing, he didn’t used to be like this. He used to joke with her, be more carefree, let her in a little. Then one day she blinked and it was as if she was this thing he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried. His texts became few and far between, he never called on a whim anymore, he just stopped. She tended to over think in general but it sent her down a rabbit hole of what did i do wrong?

No matter how many times she thought over their interactions, she couldn't think of anything to make him take such a big step back like that. Her mind would wander; maybe she was being too annoying, maybe she was too much, maybe she was too loud, maybe she was too pushy, all these maybes and she felt like she was going insane.

She really shouldn’t be surprised though, she wasn’t necessarily his type. Which, as much as she told herself not to, she compared herself to all the girls he had dated. Having to ground herself in reality that of course it wouldn’t be her. Because why on earth would it be?

Snapping out of her depressing line of thoughts, she watched Kimi approach. Freshly showered and in a new set of clothes with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He met her eyes once before looking away, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, suddenly not overly thrilled by the turn of events. Hopefully the car ride would be quick and the silence not too awkward. She wanted this over with so she could burrow in her hotel room to watch a rom-com and cry.

She followed Kimi to the car he had driven to the track that day, a nice sports car that she couldn’t even begin to fathom the cost of. It didn’t matter how long she had been friends with Ollie, she would never get used to the sheer show of wealth at these events.

Reaching for the door handle, she paused as another hand beat her to it instead, staring at Kimi dumbfounded as he opened the passenger side door for her. He still wasn’t looking at her, but he did gesture with his head for her to get in.

She reality checked the butterflies in her stomach quickly. He could not like her and still be a gentleman, there was no reason to look too deep into it. The leather was clearly expensive and the smell of Kimi’s cologne invaded her senses, smelling warm with a bit of spice and the way it made her head dizzy was a little concerning. No one should smell that good.

Sitting with bated breath, she watched as Kimi walked to the other side before sliding into his own seat. Not sparing her a glance as he got settled and the engine roared to life. Usually she was good with silence but for some reason when it came to the Italian race car driver, the quietness felt suffocating and the air was heavy,

Barely five minutes into the drive she tapped her knees and cleared her throat. Kimi didn’t do anything but raise a brow at her and kept his eyes on the road.

“Kimi?” He hummed in response. “Did I do something to make you hate me all the sudden?”

The way his eyes widened as he turned to look at her for a moment would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the way she felt nauseous as she asked.

“Che? I don’t hate you, why would you say that?”

Despite trying not to, the laugh that left her was painfully dry. “You act like you can’t stand me.”

“Why would you—“

“Kimi, this is the most you’ve spoken to me in months.”

His lips pressed together in a line as he drove, looking at her for another moment before forcing his eyes back on the road. After a moment he sighed, his voice coming out quiet. “I thought distancing myself would help.”

She stared at him, her mind not registering the words properly as she watched the street lights flicker over his face every few seconds. “Help?” Her own voice was a whisper, her heart beating too loudly in her ears and she barely heard herself. Kimi clenched his jaw, seeming to debate with himself as he thought about what to say next and she would’ve given anything to know what was going on in his head.

“Getting into things here is complicated,” he began, struggling a bit to communicate properly what he meant as if he was trying to tiptoe around something bigger. “And with Ollie I just thought it would be messy.”

“So you’ve been ignoring me because of Ollie?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” The look she gave him screamed otherwise and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. “No, non è quello che intendevo. Perché è così difficile?” He mumbled to himself before finally turning to look at her. He took a deep breath and she steeled herself for the potential blow to heart he might be about to deliver.

“I like you, tesoro. A lot, but with Ollie being your best mate and the way schedules work I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”

It was as if the world had been yanked from under her feet before the ground came rushing back again, her heart stumbling over itself at the confession. The pure shock of adrenaline and joy mixed with something akin to annoyance bubbled in her throat and she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “Why would Ollie have anything to do with whether or not you could be with me? I like you too, Kimi. But I’ve been sitting here for months thinking you couldn’t stand me. Even if it was just as friends, that hurt.”

The look on his face made her want to take back all of her words but she knew she meant them. He looked in anguish, hating himself for putting up the walls he had been so keen on keeping in place. Taking it upon himself to protect everyone from any potential emotional damage. She understood the complexities of getting into a relationship with a friend, and how if they go wrong it could blow up in everyone's face. But to not even try? And to just drop off the face of the earth? It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, tesoro.” Before she could register her next thought, Kim’s hand reached up and cradled the side of her face, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone as he looked her over like he was trying to memorise every detail. “I love being around you but it felt like torture knowing I couldn’t do anything.”

Leaning into his touch, she shook her head. “Who said you couldn’t?”

“Cara Mia,” his voice was low, as if in warning and he looked at her pointedly.

“Kimi you can’t focus on all the possible negatives, would it really kill you if we kissed?” At her words, his eyes flicked down to her mouth as his hand slid lower to cup the side of her neck, just slightly bringing her closer. She reached her own hand up to gently take hold of his wrist, eyes meeting his and they seemed to glow in the night. “Ti voglio, Kimi.”

His mouth met hers with such urgency one would think he was a man starved for her touch. The feeling of his soft but slightly chapped lips was enough to drive her to insanity and she could cry at the relief she felt. Finally. Finally, they were giving in. He didn’t need to be scared. All they had to do was take it day by day and she was willing to fight for this with him through the fires of hell if it came to that.

The kiss was messy, fueled by months of longing and miscommunication. Missed opportunities and second guesses. Two lonely, young people who wanted to find a sense of security in one another and they were finally getting a taste of what heaven was like. Teeth colliding and the feeling of his mouth against hers, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth and her hands dug in his hair. Desperate and devastating and neither would ever get enough. They never wanted to. Each touch was electric and they kept chasing that high, shedding any restraints previously held.

It would be hell to deal with sometimes, but they’d make it work.

“Vita mia,” he said it against her mouth, against her neck, he’d pepper it between each breath and kiss as if she was the air that sustained life. “Mi dispiace, I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, I know.” She kissed him again, expressing everything she wasn’t capable of saying effectively. Wishing she could talk to him freely in his native tongue. Ever since the first night she met him she started to practise. He was everything and more to her.

“Vita mio,” the words barely had time to swim in the air before he was all over her.

tag list; @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @hearts4acemyluv

pls let me know if you’d like to be tagged in further work!

the butterfliessssss

hey! please could you write a 🔥 charles leclerc

7 MINUTES | CL16

an: this celeb really has me writing for people i've never written for but here you go! rushed and not proof read lol i wanna go to bed

summary: 7 minutes in heaven, max's sister, what could possibly go wrong?

warnings: heavy make out session

wc: 3k

You were sitting on the edge of the couch, legs tucked under you, watching as the last of the sunlight fades beyond the horizon. The air still smells like autumn — damp leaves, bonfires, that kind of thing — and you can hear the muffled voices of the boys from the kitchen. They’d been drinking for hours, celebrating the end of the season. Your brother, Max , the life of every gathering, was at the centre of it all, recounting the race from last weekend like a war story for those who had missed his and Lando’s close race.

Inside the living room, the atmosphere was cosy but charged, the kind of energy that only came when the season was over and there was nothing left to lose. Someone had opened a second bottle of whiskey, and you were pretty sure it was Charles. He was sprawled out on the recliner, arm dangling over the side, his laugh loud and carefree. Across from him, Lando and Daniel were huddled together on the floor, passing around a bowl of chips like they were planning something.

Then it happened. Daniel’s eyes lit up, his smirk growing wider as he sat up straighter. "You know what we haven’t done in ages?" he said, voice slick with mischief. "Seven minutes in heaven."

You laughed, and so did a few others, but there was  that undeniable flicker of curiosity that ran through the group of you that were in the room. This was a game you used to play in secondary school, maybe year nine if you were brave, but you’d all grown up since then. Still, the alcohol had loosened everyone’s reservations, and you could see the suggestion hanging in the air, waiting to catch fire.

“Oh, come on, we’re not twelve,” Max groaned, walking in at the perfect time but even you could see a spark in his eyes that said he was not really protesting.

Daniel shrugged, still grinning. "Exactly, we’re not twelve. So why not make it interesting?"

You could feel a ripple of unease and excitement in your chest as you glanced around the room. People were starting to perk up now, their curiosity mirroring yours. And before you knew it, Carlos’ empty beer bottle was in the middle of the floor, everyone forming a loose circle around it like it was an unspoken agreement.

Your close friend Lu, had chosen to go first, the bottle spun lazily, catching the dim light from the string of bulbs hanging above the living room. The room felt smaller now, more intimate, as if everyone’s breath was synchronised, waiting for fate to land on someone. Your stomach twisted, a mix of nerves and excitement, and you wonder if anyone else felt the same fluttering tension.

It slowed, dragging the moment out. The neck wobbled a few times, then finally came to rest, pointing directly at Lando.

She grinned, all too pleased with the outcome. “Guess I’m first,” she said, pushing herself up from the floor with the grace of someone who was not nearly as drunk as the rest of them. She casted a sideways glance at Lando, who just smirked and shrugged, ready for whatever came next.

You felt Max’s eyes on you from across the circle, and you shot him a quick look — the kind that said, This is ridiculous, right? But he just smirked, raising his beer in mock salute, clearly enjoying the chaos that was about to unfold.

“Okay, Lando,” Lu teaseed, leaning toward him with a playful tilt of her head. “I think you’re my lucky partner.”

Lando let out a fake groan, but there was a spark in his eyes as he got up. “You sure? I mean, I could take a rain check…”

Everyone laughed, the tension breaking slightly as Lando and Lu disappeared into the hallway, heading for the coat closet like this is still some high school party. But the tension crept right back in as the door closed behind them.

It had only been thirty seconds, but it felt like the room was holding its breath. You sat there, heart racing even though it was not your turn, and wondered what happened next. You’d known these people for years — grown up alongside a few of them, watched your brother and his friends live out their reckless racing dreams — but now the whole vibe had shifted. It was almost like you were all teetering on the edge of something new, something dangerous.

The minutes dragged on. The muffled laughter from behind the door made everyone exchange knowing looks, but no one said anything. Then Lu’d voice called out, “Time’s up!” and the door swung open.

Lu stepped out first, her hair slightly tousled, a grin on her face like she’d gotten away with something. Lando followed, looking slightly flushed but otherwise composed. “Well,” he said, glancing around the room, “that was... enlightening.”

Everyone laughed again, a little louder this time, but you could feel the anticipation growing. Lu took her seat, and Daniel leaned forward, reaching for the bottle with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Your turn, mini Verstappen,” he said, and suddenly all eyes were on you. When Daniel had offered this game, you briefly had the idea that he was trying to pester Max, making him watch his little sister go into a small room with one of the guys of the paddock. In a room where he couldn’t do anything to stop anyone. So when Daniel passed you the bottle, you knew exactly that was his intention.

You froze for half a second, trying to brush off the nervous thrill that shot through you. “Oh no, not me,” you started to protest, but you knew it was too late. The game had a life of its own now.

The bottle clinked as you gave it a half arsed spin, and you swore it felt like the world slowed down again. The air was thick with curiosity, everyone waiting to see who fate would pick this time.

And then it stopped. Right on Charles.

You glanced up, locking eyes with him. Charles Leclerc, your brother’s biggest rival, the one who you definitely should never get with, the one who’s always wound up your brother, who knew more than he let on. His brow quirked up, just slightly, and his lips curled into a soft, unreadable smile.

For a moment, the world felt too small, the air too warm. Daniel chuckled, almost as if he had planned it. “Well, this should be interesting.”

Charles stood up, and before you even realised it, you were on your feet too, heart pounding in your throat. You forced a laugh, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the weight of every gaze on your back as you followed him toward the hallway.

Then Max shot up, “She can’t go in there with him, come on mate.” He said looking at Charles then at the rest of the group whose eyes were too locked on you and Charles. “That’s my little sister.” 

As you opened your mouth to reply, Lando stood up and looked at Max. “The rules are the rules, and unfortunately for you the rules mean your sister needs to go into that closet with Charles.” Lando then towards Max and pushed him back down onto the floor where he was previously sat. A small laugh went through the group as they looked back at you and reminded you to go towards the closet.

The door was barely closed when the silence hit. Charles leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his green eyes scanning your face. "So," he said softly, his voice cutting through the stillness, making sure no one could hear, "seven minutes."

You swallowed, leaning against the opposite wall, unsure of what to say. It felt like the world outside had faded, the only sound was the steady thrum of your pulse in your ears. There was something unspoken hanging in the air between you, a tension that had been there for longer than you’d like to admit, but neither of you had ever dared to acknowledge it. Until now.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper, “what do we do with them?”

The air inside the closet felt thicker than it should, the dim light from the hallway casting just enough of a glow under the door to catch the intensity in Charles’ eyes. Your back pressed against the wall, and you could hear your own breath coming a little too fast, the silence between you loaded with all the things neither of you had said until now.

Charles took a slow step forward, closing the distance, his presence filling the small space. He was not touching you yet, but it felt like he was everywhere, the heat radiating from him making your pulse race. His eyes flickered over your face, searching for any sign of hesitation, but you didn’t give him one. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the game, or maybe it was something you’d been pretending not to feel for a long time.

His hand came up, brushing lightly against your arm, sending a shiver through you. Then, in a sudden, fluid motion, he cupped your face, pulling you toward him. His lips crashed against yours, firm but not forceful, and it was like every thought in your head vanished, replaced by the sheer intensity of the moment.

You responded immediately, fingers threading through his hair as you kissed him back, your whole body pressing against his as if you were trying to make up for lost time. The world outside the closet didn’t exist anymore — it was just the two of you, tangled up in each other. His lips are soft but urgent, like he’d been holding this back for far too long.

He pulled back just enough for a sharp breath, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was rough, low, like he’d barely be able to keep it together. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, mon ange” he murmured, his lips brushing yours again, making your heart skip a beat.

You smiled against his mouth, your voice barely a whisper. “Then why didn’t you?”

His hands slid down your waist, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he leant in again, his lips tracing a path along your jaw. “Didn’t think it was a good idea,” he admitted softly between kisses, his mouth now teasing the skin just beneath your ear, sending a jolt of heat down your spine. “Still don’t,” he added with a soft chuckle, but there was no trace of hesitation in the way he was kissing you now.

“Why?” you whispered, trying to suppress a moan as you tugged him closer, lost in the moment, your mind spinning, body pressed tight against his. The feel of his hands, the taste of whiskey on his lips, the way your bodies fit together in this impossibly small space—it was all overwhelming, intoxicating. Every kiss was hungrier than the last, his fingers gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away, but neither of you were going anywhere.

“Because now I’ve had you once, I’m going to want you forever.” He replied in a raspy voice.

The sound of footsteps passing in the hallway broke through the haze for just a moment, but Charles didn’t stop, his kisses trailing down your neck as his hands tightened their hold on you, and you realised how badly you’d wanted this too.

The footsteps faded, but the sound barely registered. All you could focus on was Charles — the way his lips moved against your skin, the heat of his hands gripping your waist like he’d been starving for this. Each kiss felt more urgent, more desperate, and you let yourself fall into it, the thrill of finally crossing a line you didn’t know you’d been tiptoeing around for so long.

Your fingers slid under his shirt, grazing the smooth skin of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as his breath hitched. That small reaction sent a surge of confidence through you, and you pulled him even closer, wanting more, needing more. He groaned softly, his hands travelling up your sides, fingers digging in as if he was trying to ground himself in the reality of this moment.

“I didn’t think you—” His words were cut off by another kiss, deeper this time, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in. You weren’t sure what he was going to say, but it didn't matter. The way his body was pressed against yours told you everything.

It was electric — the feeling of his lips parting against yours, his breath mixing with yours as the kiss deepened, growing more intense, more heated. You lost track of time in the tangle of it all, your bodies moving together like they’d been waiting for this, like this is what they were meant for. Every second felt like it was teetering on the edge of control, the space between you disappearing as if it had never existed in the first place.

Charles broke away, panting, his forehead pressed against yours again. His voice is ragged, low and strained with want. “You... really have no idea how hard it’s been, pretending like this wasn’t... exactly what I’ve wanted.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the heat rise in your chest as his words sank in. You reached up, tracing the edge of his jaw with your thumb, heart pounding in your ears. “Then stop pretending.”

Something shifted in his gaze, something raw and powerful. His lips crashed back against yours with renewed intensity, a fire now blazing between you, the last of any hesitation burned away. His hands roamed freely now, gripping, pulling, like he was making up for all the times he’d held back. Your back pressed harder into the wall, but you didn’t care. You were lost in the feel of him, in the way his lips trailed down to your collarbone, in the sound of his breath ragged against your skin.

Your name left his lips in a whisper, like a prayer, like it had been waiting there for years, and hearing it sent a thrill through you. You pulled him closer, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, wanting to feel every inch of him. His hands slipped under your shirt, his touch scorching as his fingers trail up your back, sending sparks down your spine as he played with your bra.

“You are heavenly,” he breathed against your neck, and you could feel the heat of his words, the truth of them, in every kiss, every touch. “Utterly heavenly.”

He’d said you hadn’t known how long he’d needed this but you did. Because now that you were here, with him, you realise you’d been wanting it too — maybe even longer than he had.

Just as his lips found yours again, there was a sharp knock on the closet door, startling you both. Daniel’s voice, muffled but unmistakable, cut through the haze. “Time’s up, lovebirds. Don’t make me open this door.”

You froze, breath caught, the spell broken for a split second. Charles chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours again, his breathing still heavy. “Guess we’ll have to hit pause.”

Your heart raced as you untangled yourselves, but before you could step back, he pulled you in for one last lingering kiss, softer this time, like a promise.

“Don’t think this is over, mon ange,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “Not even close.”

You grinned, your pulse still pounding as you tried to pull yourself together. “I’m counting on it.”

Charles let out a soft chuckle, his voice low and husky. "You should probably go first."

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

His eyes flickered down to himself, and he smirks, a little sheepishly. "Because if I walk out there like this..." He gestured toward his jeans, and you couldn’t help but notice the tension brewing once more. "Let’s just say it’s gonna be obvious what we were doing in here, and Max might not be too happy."

Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you bit back a smile. “Right.”

Charles stepped forward again, fingers brushing lightly against your arm, his gaze locked on yours. "Give me a minute, and I’ll meet you out there."

You nodded, still feeling the lingering heat between you, but you straightened your shirt and smoothed your hair as best you can, trying to act like you weren’t just tangled up with him in the small, dark closet. When you felt composed enough, you opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Immediately, all eyes were on you. Lando was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a grin on his face. “Well, well, look who’s back from heaven,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he took in your slightly dishevelled appearance. His eyes narrowed as he studied you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You look... flustered, mini Verstappen.”

Your face burned, and you weren't too sure if it was from the kiss or from the fact that your brother’s friends could read you way too well. “Shut up, Lando,” you muttered, pushing past him, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

Just as you make it to the edge of the living room, Max’s voice cuts through, louder than anyone else in the room, as if he was just realising something. "Wait a minute. Where’s Charles? Why are you coming out first?"

You froze, and everyone turned to look toward the hallway. As if on cue, Charles stepped out a beat later, looking a little too composed compared to you, though he quickly raked a hand through his hair as if to play it off. His shirt was untucked at the back, and there was a slight flush to his face, but he managed to pull himself together.

Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking between the two of you, arms still crossed. "You two weren’t... actually doing anything, were you?" He tilted his head, trying to sound casual but clearly fishing for answers.

Charles shot you a quick glance, his lips twitching like he was holding back a grin. "Don’t worry, man," he said, walking past your brother and clapping him on the shoulder. "We were just... getting to know each other better."

the end.

I WAS ALL OVER HER PT. 3 — O.P.

pairings: oscar piastri x reader (romantic/platonic) | lando norris x reader (romantic)

part three of three, link to part one and two here

summary: tensions are at an all time high between the mclaren drivers. y/n makes a choice. lando gets punched, both by reality and a friend.

warnings: pining, missed opportunities, cheating (mentioned), cheating towards the end, 18+ smut, jealous!oscar, toxic!lando, mirror sex, fingering + oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex sorta (stay safe), technically a HEA for oscar x yn? bumpy road to get there, though. lando, i apologise.

word count: 5.5k

authors note: this in no way speaks on my opinion of lando and what his personality may be like, i love him this is purely for the plot <3

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The Italian sun was warm and for the most part, all you could see was a sea of Ferrari red in the crowd. Not a surprise given it was Monza. The last twenty four hours had been a bit chaotic. Lando got on pole position, and despite everything you were still happy for him. That annoying part of yourself that was a touch too sentimental. Of course it wasn’t that simple, though. McLaren locked out the front row, Oscar starting on P2.

It was obvious to anyone he was hungry. For more, like any other driver but there was simply something different about the way Oscar had been carrying himself lately. After the complicated first win he had in Hungary, the world knew he still felt like he had to prove himself. That wins didn’t have to be handed to him.

You watched, nervous and hands sweating with the heavy headphones over your ears. The drivers had just finished their warm up lap, filing into position. Your eyes flicked between the two McLaren’s, a whole range of complex emotions eating you up inside over the pair of them.

Those red lights lit up one by one, then pouring out of the headphones the infamous words “It’s lights out and away we go!” Engines roared, your jaw fell open.

Oscar overtook Lando’s lead into turn one.

Charles had won, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy for him. A Ferrari driver on top of the podium in Monza was always a sight to behold.

Your breath was held tightly in your lungs however as you watched the Tifosi flood onto the track because there was a bit of commotion going on after the initial post-race interviews of the top three drivers. Oscar finished P2, Lando finished about six seconds behind him and landed P3.

The two McLaren drivers had come to an abrupt stop in the hallway that lead up to the cool down room, their shouting could be heard in the garage despite the roar of the crowd outside. Your stomach dropped, you could barely see them but that didn’t matter. Lando was the main one yelling, Oscar on the other hand had a calm rage about him, his voice sounding more cold than you had ever thought him capable of.

The team looked around awkwardly for a few moments before someone ran to go get Andrea Stella. Not a moment later the team principal threw off his headphones and ran to try and diffuse the situation.

You stood there against the wall, acutely aware of all the cameras that may be filming into the garage. Knowing Netflix was about to have a field day with this. The season had been so messy, and that wasn’t even in regard to your own issues with the drivers but the grid in total.

Messy. What a simple word for such fucked up situations.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

A WEEK AGO, ZANDVOORT

He couldn’t keep his hands off you. Not as he had recklessly driven back to the hotel, not as you rode up the elevator, not as you two stumbled down the hallway to his hotel room. The moment it was in sight he had pushed you against the door, forgetting he was supposed to unlock it first but his mind was on other things.

The feeling of your mouth against his, your nails dragging against his scalp, the way your chest pushed against his in an attempt to get closer. He was consumed by you, not quite believing this was real. Years, he had dreamed about this moment for years. The longing he had felt about getting to touch you like this had driven him to the brink of insanity. He was terrified if he took his hands off you, you’d disappear. That he would wake up alone again in bed, hating what his life had come to despite the building success of his career.

Oscar pressed your body onto the door further, completely covering you with his own body, every nerve ending on fire with a desperate need to be close to you. His hips pressed into yours, a hand cupping your throat while the other tugged at your shirt in a fit of desperation to get at your skin.

Call it demented or sick, but at that moment he wanted to consume you. And he wanted you to do the same to him, to devour him in any way you so pleased.

His tongue danced against yours, teeth hitting and the sounds being made were vulgar but only sent him into a further frenzy. You were right here, giving in as well and he felt like his heart was about to explode.

“Bed,” you gasped out in between kisses barely finding a moment for air.

He didn’t take his mouth off you as he haphazardly dug in his pocket for his wallet, shoving it against the sensor and hoping it would pick up on the hotel key. Not a moment later there was a click and he pushed the door open, one arm wrapping around your waist as he backed you into his room, kicking the door shut behind him. He picked you up, a surprised gasp leaving your lips as he did so. Instead of depositing you on the bed, he sat you down on the desk, arm swiping out and not caring what he knocked over.

His strong hands grabbed at your waist, yanking you to the edge of the bed and his erection pressed snuggly into you. He shuddered at the contact, feeling delirious.

Oscar needed to see you, all of you. Now. His fingers found the hem of your shirt and began to lift. “Arms up,” his voice was soft but commanding, and the blush dusting your face was something he wanted imprinted in his mind for forever.

You did as told, the fabric sliding up and over your head. The shirt fell to the floor soundlessly, his hands resting on your hips as he marvelled at you. Your bra was white cotton, no padding and due to the rain the fabric was practically see through. Hiding nothing and making your hardened nipples stand out. He groaned, not being able to help himself as he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to each one.

“Oscar,” your voice was shy, timid and shaky. He looked up at you, watching with apt attention how you bit your lip and your hands came to rest on his shoulders. “Listen, I know I might not look like a lot of the other-“

He cut you off, grabbing hold of your chin and forcing you to meet his eyes. His expression was stern. “There’s no one else I want this with. Okay? No one, not even as I’m rotting in the earth will there ever be anyone else.” His calloused hands cupped your face, his thumb wiping away a tear that slipped out of your pretty eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, taking in every minuscule detail that made up your face.

You tugged on his shirt this time and he quickly rid himself of it for you, the cool air of the hotel room hitting his skin. He watched as your eyes raked over him, every line of muscle that adorned his stomach, to his neck, then his face.

“This is wrong.” You said quietly, even as your fingers hooked into his belt loops and tugged him into you again.

“Probably,” he said in return, sliding the straps of your bra off your shoulders before undoing the clasp at the back, watching in adoration as it fell away from you. “But I’ve dreamt of this for years and it’s going to take a nuclear bomb to stop me from fucking you, Angel. I hope you know that.”

Your breath hitched and he blinked before you were pulling him down to meet your wanting mouth again, moaning into the kiss as he began to undo the button and zipper on your pants. The moment felt so surreal. If this did turn out to be a dream, when he woke up he was genuinely considering killing himself. He wouldn’t be able to live with the torment any longer.

He smacked your ass lightly and you yelped, getting the hint and lifting your hips for him so he could slide your pants off. Oscar fell to knees and he tugged off your shoes, then your pants, looking up at you like a deprived man seeking salvation at the altar. You chest was heaving and he watched in fascination the way your breast moved and your ribs expanded. Your pupils were blown wide and hungry.

He placed a hand on each of your knees, slowly pulling them apart as he kept eye contact. Oscar placed hot, open mouthed kisses as he danced up your thigh, closer and closer to where he knew you needed him most. The white cotton of your panties giving off a twisted sense of innocence that made him even more hard, if possible. The white fabric made it easy to tell how wet you were and he could hear his heart beat pounding in his ears knowing that it was all for him. Moving closer, he pressed a warm kiss on your navel, taking in the sweet smell of your perfume and he knew he would die a happy man after this.

Next, he placed a kiss right onto your clit, finding it blindly through your underwear.

You yelped at the contact, hips thrusting up into his face and he couldn’t help but smile. His grin surely wicked as he looked up at you through heavy lidded, lust filled eyes.

You swallowed roughly, “Oscar, please.”

He kissed you again, savouring the taste of you and how drenched your panties were, working you through the thin cotton as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Oh my god,” your voice was a whine, your nails digging into his scalp. The pain of it quickly fizzled into pleasure though as he moaned into you, mouth following along with your desperate thrusts.

“Please.” You panted, “I need you, Oscar.”

He pulled back, feeling hazy and in utter bliss. “How badly?”

“So fucking much.”

Oscar ripped your underwear off you, leaving red marks where the fabric had snagged against your skin. With one hand splaying against your stomach, he pushed you backward until your back hit the window, neither of you caring who saw. Fuck, you were stunning. Swollen and glistening for him, practically dripping out into his lap with how wet you were.

He could feel your heart beat as he got closer before looking up at you, watching to see your face when he finally tasted you. Lowering himself, he licked long and flat up your cunt, moaning along with you as you trembled violently, your hands digging into his hair to pull him closer.

One arm reached around your thigh, fingers dancing across your hip before he pulled the skin above your pussy taught, exposing you to him fully to get unobstructed access to your clit. With his other hand, he pushed your other knee up and out, wanting you as exposed as possible. He knew there was a mirror behind him, so before he dove back in like a man starved, his rough voice carried out around the room. “Look at yourself.”

You shook your head, clearly embarrassed. “Oscar—“

“If you stop or if you close your eyes, I’ll stop.”

You pouted, the sight devastatingly adorable and he wanted to bite at your lip but he had other things on his list first. He didn’t move until your eyes hesitantly moved to the mirror behind him, breath hitching at the sight of him kneeling between your thighs.

Oscar’s mouth latched onto your clit, sucking harshly but slowly, the paired strokes of his tongue deliberate, and without warrant a shout left your lips. You had smacked a hand over your mouth, but he quickly tugged your hand away, he wanted to hear you.

Hands returning back to his hair, he watched you as you watched yourself come undone against his mouth. Your jaw falling open as two of his thick fingers sunk into your pussy, instantly clenching around him. He must really have amazing self control because he felt like he could cum in his pants then and there.

“So fucking warm,” he said against you, lapping at your clit as your thighs trembled. “And tight, for me.” His fingers set an unrelenting pace, curling up in a come hither motion and he knew he was dragging the pads of his fingers against your g-spot with the way you were screaming his name.

“Oscar!” You threw your head back against the window, still obeying him and keeping your eyes on the mirror. Your hips rutting into his mouth and fingers, desperate for a release.

Your voice sounded like church bells to him and he added another finger, three digits fucking you at a relentless pace. He felt your stomach tighten, fingers clenching around him. You were breathless as you forced the words out, there was even some drool starting to leak from your lips. “I’m— I’m going—“

“Come for me, Angel. Give me all of it.” He didn’t stop, not even as liquid started to spurt out of your pussy, coating his lips and chin as he continued his relentless licking and sucking on your clit, not stopping the thrusting of his fingers and you screamed and clamped your thighs around his head, being sent into absolute overdrive as you twitched against him. Your orgasm was violent, and he wasn’t letting up.

“Oscar, oh my god.” Your voice was hoarse and rough, followed by another orgasm that completely shattered you as you convulsed against him. He was a moaning mess, pre-cum soaking through his boxers and trousers. You yanked his head back by his hair and he let go of your clit with a resounding pop.

“Greedy.” You teased through panting breaths, a delirious smile on your face and he couldn’t help but share it.

“You taste like heaven.” He leaned in again, gently licking a long stripe up your entrance, collecting whatever wasn’t on his face or on the floor. You shuddered against him as he placed a light kiss against your clit.

He watched as you stood up on trembling legs, his hands coming up to rest on the back of your thighs as he stared up at you from where he was, still on his knees. Your fingers brushed his hair back from his eyes, taking in his face and swollen lips, but his brows started to furrow as your eyes began to water.

“What’s wrong?” He said quietly, pulling you to him so he was hugging you around your legs, resting his chin on your stomach as he looked up at you.

Shaking your head, you wiped the tears away and smiled. “I’m happy. And I’m mad we waited so long.”

“Yeah,” Oscar said softly, giving you a warm smile as he slowly stood up, his fingers dragging up your body as he went. He cupped your throat with both hands as he got to his feet, pressing his thumbs up under your chin to tilt your face to him. He kissed you gently, yet there was still a rough desperation underlined in it. “It’s a good thing I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Your eyes glowed, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, turning you and backing you up slowly till the back of your knees hit the bed and he lightly shoved you onto the mattress. He watched you carefully as he began to undo his belt, watching as your eyes traced down his toned stomach, down his happy trail, and to the obvious bulge in his trousers.

“What do you have in mind?” Your voice was timid, but clearly excited as you then sucked in a sharp breath as he took off his trousers and boxers in one go, his cock twitching at the cool air in the room and the tip was glistening and red.

“Oh, Angel.” He walked forward, slowly climbing over you and parted your thighs with his knee. He lowered his face, nipping at your neck gently before his hot breath danced over your ear. “I’m going to ruin you.”

He took hold of himself, dragging the tip up and down your entrance and he just about came undone there and then. This had to last, he needed it to last.

Oscar’s eyes locked onto yours before he sunk in, burying himself to the hilt and a loud groan left him while you moaned, throwing your head back against the sheets. You were devine. Warm, wet, already spasming around him. He was losing his hold on his sanity as he slowly pulled back out, then slammed back into you with a brutal thrust.

“I hate that he got to fucking touch you.” The words had slipped out before he realised what he had said. But he meant every syllable.

“I know,” you gasped out, nails dragging against his back, surely leaving red streak marks but he didn’t care.

Oscar had driven himself mad knowing that Lando got to see you like this. Got to feel what it was like to have you wrapped around his cock. Haunted by the thought of his teammate making you cum. Horrified by the thought of you screaming Lando’s name.

He didn’t realise it, but a hand had wrapped around your throat, choking you as he fucked you with next to no gentleness. Bottoming out each time, his other hand taking hold of one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, needing to go deeper.

You cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure as he hit your cervix over and over again.

“I thought of you every time he touched me,” the cruel admission left your lips. Both of you were horrible, awful people. Yet neither seemed to care as your teeth sunk into his forearm that was next to your head, tears slipping out of your eyes as you screamed. His pace was brutal, unrelentless. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room and an animalistic groan left him and you clenched around his cock.

Oscar turned you both so you were facing the mirror, his hand that was choking you tilting your head back so you could watch him fuck you upside down. “I’ve gotten myself off every week to thought of fucking you like this. Anywhere. Of bending you over the sink. Fucking you in the shower. In my driver’s room before a race. I’d fuck you in front of the whole paddock if I could.”

You choked out a cry, blood rushing to your head from the lack of oxygen. He knew you liked the filth he was muttering due how hard you were clenching around him, your hips going up to meet his thrusts.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Coming around my cock as everyone watched. Knowing Lando would be watching as I made a mess of you.”

“I’m going to come,” you cried, coughing violently afterward. He may have gotten ahead of himself as he pulled his hand away, noticing a red hand mark on your throat. But the sight only spurred him on further, his hand dancing between your bodies before finding your clit, rubbing tight circles into it.

He felt your orgasm before he heard you. Your cunt clamped down onto his cock, screaming his name as you convulsed. God, you were ethereal.

His thrusts became sloppy and unorganised, one hand holding your hip and yanking you down onto him as the other continued its agonising circled on your clit.

Oscar cried out your name as he came, yanking you all the way down on his cock as his cum spilled hotly into you, filling you up in such a primal way it made another wave of pleasure shoot through him.

He collapsed on top of you, both your bodies sweaty and he began peppering kisses across your face. Kissing your tears away and muttering mine between each.

Oscar was still buried deep inside you, holding his release in and he never wanted to move. Your chest heaved, slowly coming down from your high. He felt your arms move before your hands gently took hold of his face, bringing his eyes up to meet yours.

Messy trails of mascara ran down your cheeks, painting a beautiful picture of ruin in front of him. If his muscles weren’t so tired, he would’ve reached for his phone to take a picture.

“Oscar,” your voice was a whisper.

He hummed, lifting a hand up to gently tug at your bottom lip with his thumb. You seemed hesitant, searching his gaze for something. But he didn’t need to be given any hints.

“I love you,” he said the words against your lips. He said them again against your forehead. Again as he kissed each of your eye lids. Your nose.

You started to cry again, a grin stretching at your lips as you spoke the words that sealed his fate, “I love you.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

MONZA

You shut the door softly behind you, looking at his back as he leaned over to untie his shoes.

Clearing your throat, Lando sat up and turned, raising a brow at you. “Yeah?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you considered how there was no hello. No smile, though you weren’t expecting much of one. Sure, he scored a podium, but it wasn’t enough.

You stood there and stared at him for a moment. Genuinely wondering why he had even asked you out in the first place. What was the point? Then again, you shouldn’t have said yes in the first place.

Sighing, you brought out your keys and took off the one he gave you to his flat in Monaco.

His eyes widened, realising quickly what was happening and he stood up, crossing the room and taking hold of your hands to halt the finality of your actions. “Hey, what’s going on?” Lando cupped your chin, bringing your eyes up to his. “Talk to me, baby.”

Despite everything, you still felt guilty. Your mind couldn’t help but wander over all of his sweet moments with you. Because he could be, he could be really fucking sweet. Romantic even. But he was also really fucking awful sometimes. Mean, even.

Your brows furrowed, taking hold of his wrist. “We both know I’m not what you want.” You looked at his eyes, how stunningly green they were and curious how he was able to look at you in such adoration sometimes. “And we both know I know about the other girls.”

Lando clenched his jaw, his eyes flickering shut as the words were finally out. Sure, he may actually want you. He just didn’t only want you. Besides, you knew you were in no place to pass judgement anymore. With your other hand, you brushed a thumb over his cheek bone, his eyes then opening. Looking at you in confusion, not understanding why you weren’t angry. Not understanding why you were being so… understanding.

With a small sigh, you kissed him softly on the cheek before dropping his key into his hands. He didn’t stop looking at you, and maybe you were reading too much into it, but he nearly looked sad.

“Bye, Lando.”

And you left.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

AZERBAIJAN, BAKU

The thick rug that ran down the middle of the hallway muted your footsteps as you walked. You had flown home during the small break between the last race and the one that’s tomorrow. You hadn’t been able to see Oscar, though you had texted a few times.

You came to a stop outside of his door, you hadn’t told him when you were coming back. He understood you needed a break.

Stealing your breath, you knocked on the door once. The sharp sound echoing down the long hallway. Muffled sounds came from the other side of the door before it opened, Oscar blinking at you in surprise before he grinned at you.

He was so effortlessly handsome, wearing a white t-shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly and a pair of grey sweats. You licked your lips, mouth feeling dry and looked down at your shoes.

“Angel?”

“I broke up with Lando.”

There was a moment of silence before you heard him step forward, his warm and rough hands holding your face, tilting your face up to his. The look on his face, it was hard to put distinct words to it but the look of hope in his eyes made your knees weak.

“What?”

“I broke up with him.” Your breathing was uneven, and despite everything, doubts still lingered in your brain. “And you’re under no obligation to—“

Oscar pulled you to him, kissing you with such urgency your head spun.

You smiled into his mouth, “I’m all yours.”

He picked you up, looking at you with heaven in his eyes, carrying you into the room and shutting the door behind him.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Lando watched as champagne sprayed out and over the podium, watching Oscar laugh and smile as he got drenched with the Australian flag glowing above the top step. Despite his annoyance, he couldn’t hate him. His teammate was a good driver and a good person.

All of Lando’s karma was finally catching up to him, but he clapped anyway. Smiled for photos. Patted Oscar on the shoulder in congratulations, who in turn looked at him sceptically before eventually giving him a small smile.

A tiny truce.

After the crowd had died down, Lando had grappled with his consciousness for a while before forcing himself to go to Oscar’s room. He could at least try to make some sort of amends. They were going to be teammates for a while; they might as well try and get along. Water under the bridge.

He knocked on the door, he didn’t hear a response but slight muffled shuffling. He rolled his eyes, they needed to get this conversation out of the way or else Lando wasn’t sure he’d pluck up the courage again. Plus, he was sure Oscar was in a good mood after a win.

Testing the handle, the door clicked and he pushed it open, mouth opening to say something when he suddenly froze at the sight before him.

You were sitting up on the dresser, Oscar standing between your legs and his hands under your shirt, kissing you as if his life depended on it. Your desperation was palpable, hands buried in the Aussie’s hair and moaning into his mouth.

Lando blinked a few times, his mouth dry and feeling as if he’d vomit. Quickly and quietly, he shut the door and started to walk away. His pace brisk, trying not to cause a scene and run.

He knew he was in absolutely no position to feel upset over this, but he couldn’t help it. He did. He knew he had fucked up. Fucked up a wonderful opportunity you had given him. You were perfect in every sense of the word, but he had been too caught up in his ego to give a shit if he fumbled one of the best things life had tried to offer him. Right after you left his hotel room in Monza, he sat there staring at the key he had given you for a pathetically long time as a cold wave of reality slammed into him.

Not sure why, but his feet brought him to Red Bull’s section of the paddock, eyes searching desperately for Max. He was always someone he could talk to, even in the worst circumstances the Dutch man somehow always knew what to say.

After a few frantic minutes of searching, he finally found Max and called out to him. His friend turned, raising a brow at the look on Lando’s face. He probably looked insane. Max crossed his arms as he approached, not looking all too thrilled at seeing him. Which wasn’t a surprise. The entire grid wasn’t a fan of his behaviour in regards to women, Max especially given everything that had happened with Kelly and Daniil.

“Can we talk?” He asked.

Max eyed him over for a moment before nodding, guiding him back to his room. He sat on the edge of the counter, not saying anything but looked at Lando expectantly.

Lando bit the side of his cheek, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I fucked up.”

Max let out a long breath through his nose, his eye brows rising. “You’re realising this now?”

Sighing, Lando considered how to move forward. “Look I know it was dumb but can you really blame—Fuck!” His eyes began to water and his hand went up to cover his now bleeding nose. Staring at his friend in bewilderment as his head began to pound with pain.

Max had just punched him.

“You are such a fucking dumbass, Lando.” Max was practically yelling at him, not caring that the sound hurt the Brit’s head.

“I just walked in on her and Oscar practically fucking! They’ve probably been doing it behind my back all this time, anyway—“

Max looked like he wanted to deck him again. “Get over yourself! How does that even begin to justify the countless women you were screwing around with behind her back all these months.” Lando went to open his mouth but Max held up his hand. “I have never in all my years even considered doing that to someone, let alone Kelly.”

Lando grew quiet, slumping against the wall, not caring that blood was dripping down his face and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes till stars appeared. “I know, I fucked up,” his voice cracked as he spoke. “I can’t justify it. And I can’t explain it, but I really feel like I’ve had a wake up call, mate.” He laughed ruefully, looking up at the ceiling. “She’s so perfect and I just— I fucked her over.”

Max considered his friend for a long moment. He hated him for what he did to you, but he still cared about him. “I’m not saying you can fix this, nor do I think there is anything to even fix. But you need to apologise to her. But I need you to understand this,” he stepped towards Lando, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She doesn’t need to forgive you. I don’t even think she should. But she deserves a proper apology from you. Get down on your knees and cry for all I care.” With one last pointed look, Max walked over to his door and gestured an arm out. “Now get the fuck out of my room.”

That night at the club the team had picked to celebrate Oscar’s win, Lando couldn’t take his eyes off you. He held his drink, still full and ice long ago melted as he watched you dance. The multicolour lights painting you in a beautiful image.

He waved off multiple girls who approached, not even an inkling of interest igniting in his chest. His heart for some reason set on torturing himself as he watching how Oscar held onto you possessively, never letting you go and with stars in his eyes.

He had known the whole time Oscar was in love with you, and it gave him a screwed up thrill to know you were with him instead. He didn’t know what was wrong with him sometimes, but he regretted everything. Not like it mattered. You looked properly happy for once and Lando realised you had never looked at him that way.

Another girl came up to him, resting her hand on his shoulder and smiling seductively.

All he could see was you, though. Looking at him one last time before kissing him on the cheek and leaving. Shrugging the girl off, he called it an early night and left.

Despite everything, how he treated you, Lando came to a crushing realisation and he felt his lungs stop working.

He was in love with you.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

liked by youruser, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,436,097 others

landonorris smile. 🏆

*tap to load more comments*

userone: LESGOOO

usertwo: singapore looks good on you!

userthree: anyone find it odd how unhappy he’s looked lately? even when he wins

userfour: anyone see those leaked photos of oscar and lando’s ex?

| userfive: YESS they were making out in front of some pub in london

| usersix: WILLDDDD

youruser: congratulations lando 🥳

❤️ by author

landonorris: thank you, love ❤️

| userseven: i’m so lost 😭

they should both reach for the gun and pop her ass

CHICAGO PT.3 | OP81

an: I LIED IT'LL BE FOUR PARTS IM HOOKED ON WRITING THIS STORY RAHHHH. POSTING THIS BEFORE BED TIME AND IM SO AHHHHHHHHHH!

wc: 6k

warnings: panic attack

part one | part two |

Oscar sat in the half-lit quiet of his apartment, a glass of whiskey in hand, its amber warmth forgotten in his grip. His laptop sat open on the coffee table, displaying emails he hadn’t touched in hours, their urgency faded into the background noise of his thoughts. It had been weeks since the conversation with Lando in the driver’s room, but the memory of it lingered in his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

He’d done everything he could to bury the unsettling thoughts since then. Her voice, her soft reassurances, had done their job—at least temporarily. She had always known how to pull him back, how to soothe the churning inside him with just a few words. But now, in the stillness of his apartment, with no race day adrenaline to distract him, the questions began to rise again, clawing at the back of his mind.

A sharp knock on the door broke his spiral of thoughts. Oscar blinked, dragging himself back into the present. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and for a brief moment, a flicker of irritation sparked. He wasn’t in the mood for company. But then he heard Logan’s familiar voice from the other side, jovial and carefree.

“Oscar, buddy, open up!”

With a reluctant sigh, Oscar stood up, downing the rest of his whiskey in one swallow before heading to the door. He opened it to find Logan grinning, holding a six-pack of beer in one hand.

“Thought I’d drop by, see what you’ve been up to,” Logan said as he strolled inside without waiting for an invitation, clearly comfortable in the space. “Figured you’d be brooding alone in here.”

“Is that what people think of me now?” Oscar asked with a wry smile, trying to keep the mood light. He closed the door behind Logan, though his earlier unease hadn’t fully left him.

Logan plopped down on the couch, dropping the beer on the table and cracking one open for himself. “Well, you’ve been a bit... distant since Chicago, haven’t you?” He took a long swig of his beer, then set it down. “But that’s why I’m here. Thought I’d snap you out of it.”

Oscar forced a laugh and sat down next to him, trying to ignore the twist in his gut. “Yeah, just a lot on my plate lately.”

Logan nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I get it. The season’s brutal this year. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Feels like it,” Oscar muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

There was a brief silence, broken only by the quiet hum of the city outside, and for a moment, it felt almost comfortable—almost. Oscar reached for another drink, but Logan spoke up before he could get lost in his thoughts again.

“Oh, right. Meant to tell you,” Logan started, his tone casual but carrying that hint of intrigue that meant he was about to drop something interesting. “I overheard something at the paddock the other day. Lando and Max were having a chat.”

The mention of Lando’s name made Oscar tense, though he hid it behind a quick sip of his drink. He hadn’t seen much of Lando since that conversation about his girlfriend. He’d avoided him, telling himself it was just the busyness of the season, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

“What about?” Oscar asked, trying to sound casual, though his pulse had quickened.

“They were talking about their girlfriends,” Logan said, leaning back on the couch with a grin, clearly amused by the gossip. “Apparently, Lando’s thinking of bringing his girlfriend to the track on Thursday. You know, letting her kid meet Max’s girlfriend’s kid.”

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat. Her kid. He hadn’t realised Lando had gotten serious enough with his girlfriend to talk about bringing her child to the paddock. The idea of it—a girlfriend and her child, meeting other drivers’ families—felt like something out of a life he couldn’t quite touch.

“Her kid?” Oscar repeated, forcing his voice to stay even.

“Yeah,” Logan continued, seemingly oblivious to the shift in Oscar’s mood. “Lando’s girlfriend has a son. Seven years old, I think he said. Leo.”

The name hit Oscar like a punch to the gut, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air thicker. Leo. Too close. Too close to Lea. The same age, too. His mind reeled as he tried to process the information.

Leo and Lea. Two names that were now spiralling around his mind, refusing to leave him alone.

“Leo?” Oscar echoed, his throat tight, his hands suddenly clammy.

“Yeah, that’s what Lando said,” Logan confirmed, oblivious to Oscar’s growing panic. “Funny coincidence, huh? I thought of your girl when I heard it. Her daughter’s name is Lea, right?”

Oscar’s stomach churned, the whiskey doing nothing to steady his nerves now. The resemblance between the names—between their situations—was too striking to ignore. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his mind was racing.

“Yeah... Lea,” he muttered, barely able to get the word out.

Logan leaned forward, reaching for another beer, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside Oscar. “Weird how those names are so close, isn’t it? Leo and Lea. Both seven. But hey, probably just one of those things, right? What are the chances?”

What are the chances? Oscar’s mind latched onto that phrase, replaying it over and over as the conversation with Lando echoed in his head. The pieces were there, and now they were beginning to slot into place, no matter how much he wanted to resist it.

Lando had mentioned meeting her a year ago—in America. She had told him about her life in Chicago, about her daughter Lea, seven years old, and raising her alone. But Lando had spoken about Leo, not Lea. A son, not a daughter. That had been the difference that had made Oscar dismiss the thought when Lando first talked about it. But now, with that name echoing in his mind, Oscar could no longer ignore the similarities.

His grip tightened around his glass, fingers digging into the smooth surface as he fought to keep his composure. Could it be her? Could she be Lando’s girlfriend?

The idea seemed absurd, but the doubt was already there, a seed that had been planted and was now sprouting, twisting its roots deep into his mind.

He replayed every moment he’d spent with her, every conversation, every look, every touch. She’d been so convincing, so sincere—or at least, that’s what he had wanted to believe. But now, with this new information, everything felt tainted. Every memory of her seemed to carry an undertone of manipulation, of deception.

He could feel the ground beneath him shifting, the stability he’d clung to for weeks slipping away. His thoughts spiralled, racing between disbelief and bitter realisation.

Logan seemed to sense something off now, watching Oscar with a puzzled expression. “You alright, mate? You’ve gone quiet.”

Oscar forced a tight smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”

Logan shrugged, unfazed, as he stood up and stretched. “Well, don’t think too hard. Could be nothing, just me connecting dots that aren’t there. I mean, you and Lando have different types. Probably just a coincidence.”

“Yeah... probably,” Oscar said, his voice strained.

Logan gave him a friendly pat on the back. “Alright, I’ll head out. You should come out with us tomorrow night, clear your head. Don’t let all this racing stuff get to you.”

Oscar nodded absently, barely hearing him. “Yeah, maybe.”

Logan grabbed his jacket and headed to the door, giving Oscar one last wave before disappearing down the hallway.

The moment the door closed, Oscar was left alone with his thoughts, the silence of the apartment now feeling oppressive. He sank back down onto the couch, his head swimming with a confusion he couldn’t shake.

Could it really be her? Could she have been playing him all this time?

He glanced down at his phone, which lay on the coffee table next to the empty whiskey glass. His fingers itched to pick it up, to call her, to ask her outright if she was lying to him. But what would he even say? He couldn’t just accuse her out of the blue, not without sounding paranoid. And yet, the thought gnawed at him, relentless.

Oscar grabbed his phone, staring at her name in his contacts, his thumb hovering over the screen. Leo. Lea. His head spun with the possibilities, the connections that seemed too close to ignore.

But even as the doubt filled his mind, there was still a part of him that resisted it, clinging to the version of her he knew. The woman he had fallen for. The woman who had whispered sweet promises into his ear, made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t in years. Could that all have been a lie?

His thumb hovered over her name, the phone feeling heavier in his hand than ever before.

For the first time since meeting her, Oscar didn’t press call.

The hours had come and gone and Oscar couldn’t remember getting into bed, but he could remember ever minute he’d spent staring up at his ceiling. It was well past midnight, but sleep had evaded him completely. He hadn't been able to shake the conversation with Logan earlier that evening—the way the name Leo had echoed in his mind, digging into his subconscious, unsettling everything he thought he knew about her.

Leo. Too close to Lea. Too close to her.

He picked up his phone from the nightstand, his fingers moving almost without thought. The list of contacts blurred slightly as his thumb hovered over Lando’s name. He hadn’t spoken to him since their conversation weeks ago unless he had to for work, and despite every instinct telling him not to, Oscar needed answers. He couldn’t let this nagging doubt fester any longer. He needed to know if his suspicions—wild as they seemed—held any weight.

Hey mate, need to talk before the race. You free tomorrow?

He stared at the message, hesitating for a moment before pressing send. The little blue bubble appeared, sitting in the chat like an uncomfortable reminder that he was waiting for something—anything—to help ease his mind. But the longer he waited, the more the silence gnawed at him. Minutes passed, the absence of a response amplifying his anxiety.

Oscar sighed, his thumb tapping on the screen again, this time scrolling down to her name. He stared at her name for a long moment, remembering the way her voice had soothed him so many times before. She'll tell me I'm being ridiculous. She’d laugh softly, maybe tease him for worrying over nothing. She always knew how to calm him down, how to make him forget everything else. He could almost hear her voice in his head.

He typed quickly.

I miss your voice. Can we talk?

He pressed send, staring at the screen as if willing the message to deliver. Seconds ticked by, then a minute, and his heart began to pound when he realised the message hadn’t gone through. Message not delivered. He frowned, watching the error sign blink back at him.

That’s strange.

Oscar tried again, but the message still didn’t deliver. His mind raced through possible explanations. Maybe her phone was off, or she was somewhere without service. She did mention a work trip soon, he thought, trying to rationalise it. It wasn’t the first time her phone had been out of reach for a few hours. He could almost hear her brushing it off when she eventually called him back, laughing about poor reception or how busy she had been.

Still, something about it didn’t sit right with him. He stared at his phone, a sinking feeling growing in his chest. Lando wasn’t responding either. The creeping doubt Logan had stirred earlier began to crawl its way back, more persistent now, digging deeper into his thoughts.

What if...

Oscar quickly shut that thought down. He wasn’t going to drive himself insane with these suspicions. He’d seen this before—the paranoia that came with the pressure of the sport, the constant overthinking. This was just another bout of that, amplified by stress. He was exhausted, running on fumes, and his mind was playing tricks on him. He just needed rest.

I’m overthinking it, he told himself, forcing the words into the forefront of his mind like a mantra. I’m just tired, and everything looks worse when you’re this exhausted.

He set his phone down, determined to let it go. He’d see Lando tomorrow anyway, and she would probably call him back when she was free. There was no point in losing sleep over this, not when he had a full day of media obligations ahead of him. He’d wake up, do what needed to be done, and this would all seem ridiculous in the light of day.

With a heavy sigh, Oscar pulled the duvet over himself and closed his eyes. The cool fabric of the pillow pressed against his cheek as he tried to settle into the bed, but his mind wouldn’t stop buzzing with a million thoughts.

It’s nothing. Stop overthinking it.

But as he lay there, the city’s hum outside his window, the quiet tick of the clock on the wall, and the nagging unease in his gut refused to go away. Every now and then, his eyes would flicker open, glancing at the phone on the nightstand. Every time, it stayed still. Silent. No messages from her. No response from Lando.

Oscar swallowed hard, turning over again, trying to focus on anything else. Tomorrow will clear everything up. He just had to make it to tomorrow.

Eventually, sleep found him, though it was a restless, uneasy kind of sleep, filled with fractured dreams and half-formed thoughts he couldn’t quite remember when he woke up. But the feeling lingered, hanging over him like a storm cloud.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it brought no comfort. He reached for his phone the moment he opened his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping to find some kind of response waiting for him.

But there was nothing.

No reply from Lando. No message from her.

Oscar exhaled sharply, pushing himself out of bed. It’s just one of those things. He had a long day ahead of him, and there was no use in letting his thoughts run wild. He had to focus, get his head back in the game. Just keep going.

He threw on his clothes and readied himself for the day ahead, steeling his nerves for what he hoped would be just another ordinary day. I’ll see them both soon, he thought as he left his apartment, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that followed him like a shadow.

By the time Oscar got to the paddock it was already buzzing with activity as Oscar arrived, the hum of engines, conversations, and the occasional clatter of tools filling the air. He should’ve felt at home here—among the smell of burning rubber, the organised chaos of race day preparations. But today, it all felt distant. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in an unsettling fog of thoughts he’d been trying to shake since the night before.

He adjusted the collar of his team jacket, trying to focus, but the weight of the unease from the night before lingered. No message from her. No word from Lando. He hadn’t been able to ignore the growing knot of doubt, but he had convinced himself this morning that it was nothing. Just a coincidence. It had to be.

As he walked down the main paddock lane, making his way toward the media zone, his phone buzzed in his pocket. His heart leapt for a moment—maybe it was her—but when he glanced down, it was just another email, something about the team briefing later. He sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket, forcing himself to focus on the day ahead.

But then, something caught his eye.

At first, it was nothing more than a flash of red—the colour of a jacket, a familiar silhouette standing just on the edge of the paddock near the Mclaren Hospitality Tent. His eyes narrowed, and his breath caught in his throat as his gaze sharpened. Even from this distance, he could recognize the way she stood, her posture, the easy grace with which she moved. It was her.

She was here.

For a moment, a wave of relief washed over him, a soft smile tugging at his lips. His heart quickened—not with the anxiety of the past few days but with the warmth he always felt when he thought of her. She’s here. Maybe she had come to surprise him. Maybe everything would finally make sense.

His pace quickened as he moved toward her, anticipation swelling in his chest. But as he got closer, something shifted. His smile faltered when he saw someone else approaching her—a man.

Lando.

Oscar  stopped dead in his tracks, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He watched as Lando strode up to her with that same casual confidence he always had, his face lighting up when he saw her. And then, as if the universe was mocking him, Lando leaned down and kissed her.

Oscar  felt the world tilt beneath him.

It wasn’t just a casual kiss, not the kind you give in passing. It was intimate, familiar. The kind of kiss shared by lovers, by people who had spent more than fleeting moments together. Oscar 's breath hitched in his throat as the truth hit him all at once—hard and unforgiving.

Lando's girlfriend. Lando's Leo.

She wasn’t just some distant thought anymore, someone he could call and pretend everything was fine with. She was standing right here, in front of him, in this world that had always belonged to him—and Lando.

Oscar ’s mouth went dry, his pulse hammering in his ears, but it wasn’t over. As if the universe wasn’t done ripping apart the fragile web he had tried to spin for himself, he saw a small boy run toward Lando, his laugh carrying on the wind.

The boy was maybe seven, with light brown hair, bright eyes, and a familiar lilt to his voice. Leo. The name thundered in Oscar ’s mind, each syllable more brutal than the last.

Oscar ’s world stopped.

He watched, frozen, as the boy ran to Lando, and Lando crouched down to scoop him up in an embrace, grinning widely. Lando ruffled the boy’s hair, saying something Oscar  couldn’t hear from where he stood, but it didn’t matter. He could see everything he needed to know. Lando wasn’t just playing the role of a stand-in or a casual boyfriend—he was in this, fully, deeply. This was a life. Their life.

Oscar ’s breath came in shallow, ragged bursts as the full weight of it all crashed down on him. She wasn’t just with Lando. She had a whole other life with him. A life that included a child—a child he had heard so much about from her, though she had called him by another name. Lea had become Leo, and everything Oscar  had thought he knew was a lie.

His mind reeled as he tried to piece together how long this had been going on. How long she had been playing them both. Weeks? Months? The entire time he had known her? How many nights had she soothed him with her voice, made him believe he was special to her, while she was building this life with someone else?

His hands trembled as he stood there, watching them interact like a family. She had her arm wrapped around Lando’s waist now, smiling up at him in a way that made Oscar ’s stomach churn. She looked at Lando with that same softness, that same vulnerability that had made Oscar fall for her in the first place.

How could I have been so blind? The thought ripped through him, bitter and sharp. Every moment with her replayed in his mind now, but with a new, ugly clarity. The subtle evasions, the too-perfect explanations, the way she’d disappear for days at a time, only to come back with a sweet excuse. He had ignored it all, let himself believe she was everything he wanted her to be because he had been desperate to feel something again.

The paddock noise swirled around him, the laughter, the chatter of mechanics, the distant rumble of engines. But all of it faded into the background as his eyes locked on her and Lando.

For the first time, Oscar  didn’t feel the familiar rush of race day energy. There was no excitement, no focus on the task at hand. All he felt was a gnawing sense of betrayal, an emptiness that spread through his chest like ice. He had been so utterly hooked on her, had built this fantasy around her in his mind, and now, that fantasy was crumbling before his very eyes.

Without realising it, he had taken a step backward, then another, retreating from the sight in front of him. His mind screamed at him to confront her, to demand answers, but his body refused to move. He wasn’t sure what was worse—the betrayal itself or the realisation that he hadn’t seen it coming.

As he turned and walked away, the weight of it all pressing down on him, he felt as if he were walking through molasses, his legs heavy, his breath shallow. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but he knew now that there was nothing left to ask. Everything was laid bare before him.

He had fallen for her, believed her, let her into the deepest parts of himself. And all the while, she had been building something else, something real, with someone else.

He thought back to that night he had first met her in Chicago, that intoxicating smile, the softness in her eyes when she talked about her daughter. And now, standing here in the aftermath, he saw it for what it had been all along—a performance.

Oscar had been nothing more than a passing act in her show, and now the curtain had fallen.

Oscar didn’t know how far he had walked. His legs moved mechanically, one foot in front of the other, carrying him away from the scene that had shattered him. The sound of laughter, engines, and the bustling paddock faded into the background as a growing numbness took over. His hands were shaking, and his chest tightened with each breath, the weight of it all sinking in.

He stumbled around a corner, finding himself in a quiet service alley behind the team garages, where crates and equipment were stacked in neat rows. The world felt distant, blurred at the edges, and the air felt too thin. He leaned against the cold metal of a container, his breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

I can’t breathe.

His mind raced, the images of her and Lando flashing like daggers in his thoughts. Her smile, her lies, the little boy running to Lando—it all collided in his head, creating a vortex of disbelief and betrayal. His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, erratic beat that refused to slow. His vision started to blur, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

Get a grip. But the command felt impossible. His lungs wouldn’t fill with air, his thoughts were spinning out of control, and the walls of the alley seemed to close in around him.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching, but they sounded distant, like they were coming through a fog. Before he could react, a familiar voice cut through the haze.

"Oscar?" It was Logan.

Oscar tried to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat. He couldn’t even lift his head to meet Logan’s gaze. His body trembled, his hands clutching at the front of his jacket as if trying to hold himself together.

“Mate, what the hell—are you okay?” Logan’s voice was sharp with concern as he rushed to his side, grabbing Oscar by the shoulders. He crouched down, his face close, searching Oscar's eyes for any sign of response. But Oscar could only shake his head, his breaths coming faster and more ragged.

“I—I can’t—” Oscar gasped, his voice barely a whisper. The pressure in his chest was unbearable, like he was suffocating under the weight of everything that had just happened. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight back the panic, but it overwhelmed him.

“Hey, hey, breathe with me. Focus on me. Slow down,” Logan urged, his voice calm but firm. He placed a hand on Oscar’s chest, matching the rise and fall of his shallow breaths. “In. Out. Come on, slow it down.”

Oscar tried to follow Logan’s instructions, his chest rising in shallow, broken attempts. Each inhale felt like a battle, but Logan’s steady voice anchored him, pulling him out of the spiralling panic. Slowly, painfully, his breathing began to slow, and the fog in his mind lifted just enough for him to focus on the present moment.

“Good. Keep going. You’re okay,” Logan murmured, keeping his hand on Oscar’s shoulder, steadying him.

It felt like hours passed before Oscar could breathe properly again, the tightness in his chest easing ever so slightly. His hands were still trembling, but his mind had slowed enough to process what had just happened. The panic still lingered, like a storm waiting on the horizon, but at least for now, he could breathe.

Logan stayed crouched beside him, his brow furrowed with concern. “What the hell happened? You looked fine earlier. What’s going on?”

Oscar swallowed hard, his throat dry. He didn’t know where to begin. How could he even explain this? How could he put into words the chaos that had just upended everything he thought he knew?

“Logan…” His voice was hoarse, raw from the struggle to breathe. “It’s… it’s her.”

Logan’s face shifted from concern to confusion. “The girl from Chicago? What about her?”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. His voice cracked as he spoke, the words tumbling out in a broken rush. “She… she’s with Lando. I just—God, I just saw them. They were together, and there’s a kid—Leo. She told me she had a daughter, but… but that’s her son, Logan. That’s her son.”

Logan’s eyes widened, shock flashing across his face as he took in Oscar’s words. “Wait, what? Lando? And—Jesus. What?”

Oscar nodded, his stomach turning as he relived the moment he had seen them together. “I didn’t know, Logan. I had no idea. She never told me. She’s been playing me this whole time. And Lando, he… he doesn’t know. He has no idea.”

Logan was silent for a moment, his jaw tight as he processed what Oscar was saying. “And you’re sure it’s the same girl?”

“Positive. I saw them together,” Oscar said, his voice thick with disbelief. “She was with Lando, and the kid… I just—I can’t believe it. She’s been lying to both of us. I don’t even know how long it’s been going on.”

Logan let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Shit, mate. That’s… that’s messed up. How the hell did she pull this off? You’ve been with her for—what, months?”

“Since Chicago,” Oscar muttered, his hands clenched into fists. The anger was rising now, replacing the panic with a burning sense of betrayal. “She’s been playing me for months, Logan. And the worst part is, Lando doesn’t know. He’s out there thinking he’s got a family with her, and she’s just… she’s been lying to him too.”

Logan rubbed his face, clearly at a loss for words. “Mate, this is… this is bad. You need to talk to Lando. He deserves to know what’s going on.”

Oscar shook his head, his throat tightening again. “I don’t even know how to start that conversation. How am I supposed to tell him that the woman he’s in love with has been stringing me along for months?”

“I know it’s hard, but he deserves the truth,” Logan said gently. “He’s your teammate. You owe it to him to tell him what you know.”

Oscar let out a long, shaky breath. Deep down, he knew Logan was right. Lando deserved the truth. But the idea of confronting him, of shattering the life Lando thought he had with her—it felt impossible. How could he do that to someone he cared about?

“How do I even begin?” Oscar whispered, more to himself than to Logan.

“You just do. Lando deserves to hear it from you, not from anyone else,” Logan said firmly. “Trust me, the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to get. You need to talk to him before this whole thing blows up even worse.”

Oscar nodded, though the thought made his chest tighten again. He knew Logan was right. He had to face this. He had to talk to Lando. Even if it meant tearing down the life Lando thought he had built.

“Okay,” Oscar said quietly. “I’ll talk to him. Before the race.”

Logan gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing, mate. You’ve got this.”

But as Oscar stood there, still trembling from the panic and the weight of the truth pressing down on him, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to face what was coming next.

Before the race Oscar stood outside Lando’s driver room, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through his chest. His palms were clammy, his breath shaky, and his mind was racing with every possible way this conversation could go wrong. He had rehearsed it a hundred times since Logan found him—how he would explain everything, how he’d try to soften the blow. But now, standing here, the weight of it all felt unbearable.

His hand hovered over the door for a moment, hesitation gripping him. What if Lando didn’t believe him? What if he got angry? Oscar wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the storm that was about to hit.

He deserves the truth. You have to do this.

Taking a deep breath, Oscar knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately, and there stood Lando, already dressed in his race suit, looking every bit the calm, collected driver he always was before a race. But today, Oscar could see the excitement in his eyes, the eagerness. It made his stomach turn.

“Oscar, mate! What’s up?” Lando asked, grinning. He stepped back, motioning for Oscar to come inside. “You ready for the big day?”

Oscar forced a smile, though it felt weak and awkward. He stepped inside, the air thick with tension he wasn’t sure Lando could feel yet. The motorhome was quiet, the sound of the paddock fading into the background as the door shut behind him.

“Yeah, uh… about that…” Oscar started, his voice already cracking under the weight of what he was about to say. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his heart thudding against his ribs. “I need to talk to you. About something serious.”

Lando’s smile faltered just a little, his brow furrowing. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling the nerves coil tight in his chest. This was it. No turning back.

“It’s about your girlfriend,” Oscar said, his voice barely above a whisper. The name hit the air like a bomb, and Lando’s face immediately darkened.

“My girlfriend?” Lando repeated, his expression shifting to confusion. “What about her?”

Oscar hesitated, feeling the weight of every word that was about to come out of his mouth. His throat was dry, and he suddenly wished he had some water, something to buy more time. But there was no time. It had to be now.

“I… I didn’t know she was with you,” Oscar said, the words coming out in a rush. “I didn’t know she was your girlfriend. Lando, I’ve been—God, I’ve been seeing her. She never told me about you.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Lando’s eyes narrowed as the meaning of Oscar’s words sank in, his confusion giving way to something darker—anger.

“You’ve been what?” Lando’s voice was low, dangerous, a tone Oscar had never heard from him before. “You’ve been seeing her?”

Oscar held up his hands, trying to keep his own panic in check. “I swear, I didn’t know, mate. I didn’t know she was with you. She told me she was single, raising her kid on her own. I had no idea you were with her. Not until I saw you together today.”

Lando took a step back, his face twisted in disbelief and fury. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in the small space, his movements sharp, agitated. “Are you telling me you’ve been with her this whole time? The whole time we’ve been together?”

Oscar nodded, feeling like the ground beneath him was about to give way. “I didn’t know,” he repeated, his voice shaky. “I met her in Chicago months ago. She told me she had a daughter, that she was a single mum. I thought… I thought I was helping her.”

Lando let out a harsh laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Helping her? You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s been with me for a year! She’s been my girlfriend, Oscar. What the hell were you thinking?”

Oscar winced, the guilt tightening around his chest. “I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was just… I was hooked on her. She had me completely fooled.”

Lando’s face was a mask of rage now, his fists clenched at his sides as if he were holding himself back from hitting something—or someone. “You’re telling me this now, before the race? What the hell am I supposed to do with this, Oscar?”

“I’m sorry,” Oscar said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to tell you, but you deserve to know. I had no idea she was with you. I only put it together when Logan mentioned Leo—her son.”

Lando stopped pacing, his face going pale at the mention of Leo. “Leo?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, Oscar saw something other than anger in his friend’s eyes—something like fear. “Who told you his name was Leo?”

Oscar nodded, swallowing hard not knowing how to navigate this topic any further. “She told me she had a daughter named Lea.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, like the eye of a storm. Then, slowly, Lando sat down on the edge of the small bed, his head in his hands. Oscar stood frozen, unsure of what to do, unsure if he should say more or just leave.

“She played us both, didn’t she?” Lando muttered, his voice hoarse, filled with disbelief. “She’s been playing me this whole time.”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, nodding, though he still couldn’t fully believe it himself. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I think she has.”

Lando shook his head, his fingers running through his hair in frustration. “I should’ve known something was off. She always had these excuses, always disappearing for days at a time. I thought she was just… I don’t know, giving me space. Or with her kid. But now? Now it all makes sense.”

Oscar sat down across from him, the weight of the truth settling heavily between them. “I should’ve seen it too. But I was too caught up in her. I wanted to believe her so badly that I didn’t question anything.”

They sat in silence for a long time, both of them grappling with the betrayal, with the web of lies she had spun so carefully around them. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it was no longer directed at each other. They had both been played, both drawn into her orbit without realising they weren’t the only ones.

“What are we going to do?” Lando finally asked, his voice flat, almost numb.

Oscar shook his head, still unsure. “I don’t know. But we can’t let her keep doing this.”

Lando clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening as he stared at the floor. “You’re right. She’s not getting away with this. Not anymore.”

Oscar nodded in agreement, but his heart was still heavy. The woman he had fallen for, the woman he had trusted, had betrayed him in the worst way possible. But it wasn’t just about him anymore. Lando was hurting too, and that made it all the more unbearable.

As the weight of their conversation settled into the room, Oscar felt a slow, creeping nausea rise in his chest. It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was the realisation that this wasn’t some accident—this wasn’t some chance encounter where they’d both been caught off guard by the same woman. No. She had known exactly what she was doing.

He stared at the floor, the memories flooding back in sharp, painful clarity. The first night in Chicago, the way she had appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to him with that effortless grace, that smile that had seemed too good to be true. The way she’d known exactly how to draw him in, offering just the right amount of vulnerability to make him want to protect her. All those months, he’d thought it had been fate, a serendipitous meeting. But now, with Lando sitting across from him, every detail took on a darker shade.

“Lando…” Oscar’s voice cracked, barely able to say the words. “She knew about me, didn’t she? From the beginning.”

Lando looked up, his eyes still clouded with shock but now narrowing as if trying to piece together the puzzle himself. “What do you mean?”

Oscar took a shaky breath. “You’ve mentioned me to her, haven’t you? Before I even met her in Chicago, you must have talked about me. About the team. She… she knew who I was before she ever sat down next to me at that bar.”

Lando’s face paled. His gaze shifted to the floor, his mind working through the same awful revelation that had struck Oscar. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. I mentioned you all the time. You’re one of my best mates. Of course, I talked about you.”

It was like a punch to the gut. Oscar’s stomach turned as he recalled every little interaction with her—the way she’d seemed to know exactly what to say, how to flatter him without being too obvious, how to make him feel like he was the one discovering her, unravelling her layers. But it was all calculated. She’d had him pegged from the moment she walked in, likely before that.

“She didn’t just randomly pick the seat next to me at the bar,” Oscar said, his voice low, thick with bitterness. “She knew exactly who I was, Lando. She played us both from the start.”

Lando sat there, silent, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at his hands. His fingers twitched like he wanted to punch something, anything, but he stayed still, the tension simmering just below the surface. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

“She’s been manipulating both of us,” he muttered, his voice a growl of disbelief. “I told her about my life. My friends. My job. And all that time… she was using it against me. Against you.”

The full scope of her deception crashed down on Oscar. He felt sick to his core. She’d never cared. Every sweet word, every glance, every night they’d spent together—it had all been part of her plan. She had known exactly who he was and had targeted him, exploited his loneliness, his vulnerability.

The first time they had kissed, that electric moment in her apartment, had seemed so real. He could still feel the warmth of her hands on his skin, the way her lips moved against his as if they had been made for each other. But now it felt cheap. Hollow. A lie that had wrapped itself around him until he could barely breathe.

"She must have known everything about me before she even introduced herself," Oscar continued, his voice darkening with anger. “That night at the bar, the way she played coy, like she didn’t know me from Mclaren. It was all an act. A setup.”

Lando was silent for a moment, still staring at the floor. Then, slowly, he looked up at Oscar, his expression hard. “She probably knew exactly how to make you fall for her. She listened to me talk about you enough. Your hobbies, your career, your life. She had every piece of ammunition she needed.”

Oscar could feel his pulse quickening again, a sick mix of rage and humiliation rising in his throat. She hadn’t just lied—she had orchestrated everything with precision, knowing full well how to ensnare him. And the worst part? He had let her. He had fallen for every carefully laid trap.

"She played the long game," Oscar whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I thought… I thought it was real. I thought she was real.”

“I did too,” Lando muttered bitterly. He let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to shake off the disgust that was settling over him. “God, how could we have been so blind?”

Oscar swallowed hard, the bitterness turning into something darker, more dangerous. He could picture her face so clearly—those dark, hypnotic eyes that had drawn him in from the very beginning, the way she tilted her head just enough to make him think she was letting her guard down for him. And all along, she had been playing him like a violin, hitting every note perfectly.

“She knew what she was doing,” Oscar said, his voice thick with fury. “She knew exactly what she was doing, Lando. She was never confused. Never torn. She set us both up like pieces on a chessboard.”

Lando’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening as he nodded in agreement. “She knew how to make us feel like we were the ones in control, like we were helping her. But she was pulling the strings the whole time.”

They both sat in silence, the weight of their shared betrayal settling into the room like a storm cloud. Neither of them spoke for what felt like minutes, both of them lost in the horrible realisation of just how thoroughly they’d been manipulated.

“I can’t believe it,” Lando finally said, his voice hollow. “I can’t believe she was capable of this.”

Oscar shook his head slowly, the ache in his chest deepening. “I guess people like her… they don’t care who they hurt, as long as they get what they want.”

And that was the bitter truth. She had never cared about either of them. She had only cared about what she could take, what she could gain. And they had both been too blind, too caught up in her web to see it.

“What do we do now?” Lando asked, his voice a mixture of anger and defeat.

Oscar didn’t have an answer. His whole world felt like it had been ripped apart, every certainty he had stripped away. He didn’t know what came next. But one thing was clear— She wasn’t going to walk away from this unscathed.

“We tell her it’s over,” Oscar said firmly, though his heart ached even as he said it. “She doesn’t get to play us anymore.”

Lando nodded, his jaw set. “She’s not getting away with this.”

But even as they made their decision, Oscar couldn’t shake the feeling that the damage had already been done. He had given a part of himself to her that he couldn’t get back, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was all a lie, the hurt lingered like an open wound.

As they prepared to face her, Oscar couldn’t help but wonder how much of him had been taken in by her. How much of him was still trapped in that web she had spun so perfectly around him.

And whether he would ever truly be free of her.

part four

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CHAMPAGNE SHOWERS | OSCAR PIASTRI | 81

done by me; i can’t believe i get to see him race in person in austin 🤭 (manifesting i get to meet him)