miakat9

[miakat9]

love looks pretty on you | ln4

summary: my pretty baby or 5 silent moments of love between the two of you.

warnings: i fear this is LONG. a shit ton of fluff, reader and lando needing some reassurance here and there, fem!reader, reader is a friend of max fewtrell’s who lando’s always had an eye on, language, pregnancy, and some suggestive content.

radio check: this idea is inspired by the talented @norrissm’s post called ‘behind the visor’ because i couldn’t get the thought of writing about little moments like these out of my brain. please make sure to go read ‘behind the visor’ if you haven’t already! sasha is so talented and all her works are so beautiful.

masterlist | listen

— one.

he was shaky, hands sweaty and he had a nervous pit in his stomach. he was almost 100% sure hadn’t felt nerves like this before. not even when he was behind the wheel of his race car, waiting for the lights to go out.

he had finally managed to work up the courage to ask you on a date after months and months of yearning. he had asked max about you a million times. if you were seeing anyone, if you were interested in him, the whole nine yards. and max, being the best friend and wingman that he is, managed to get you to come with him to singapore.

you had always thought lando was cute, and you’d be lying if you said you never thought about what could happen between you two. back then, you used to think he was max’s annoying, rich and prissy friend when you were younger. but the closer you got to him, the more you saw what max saw.

the guy who’d give you the shirt off his back and would always show up for his friends. the sweet, charismatic guy who would always stop for a fan even when he was having the worst day imaginable.

he made it easy to fall for him.

you pulled him into a hug after the race, not caring that he was sweaty, and smelled like a mix of fuel and rubber. the papaya orange of his race car glowing in the lights of singapore. a race he led every lap of ahead of verstappen. you couldn’t be prouder of the man in front of you.

“stupid question,” he started.

please, let this be it.

“do you wanna get dinner sometime?”

you immediately nodded, the moment you had been waiting what felt like a lifetime for finally unfolding in front of your eyes. of course, you were eager to say yes.

“sure,” you smiled, doing your best to play it cool, “i’d love to.”

he smiled, the boyish grin that made your knees go weak and your heart beat a little faster. he was sure that right there in that moment, there was nothing you could do that wouldn’t make him fall in love with you.

your eyes sparkled as you looked up at him, the prettiest color he’d ever seen.

his new favorite color.

the two of you had made plans to go out once you were home in london and he was back in woking at the mtc. and now, that day had finally come.

in preparation for his big day, he had gone through all the steps to make sure this date was perfect. he pulled all the stops, managed to squeeze in a reservation at the fancy italian restaurant in the city, and he even asked max what your favorite flowers were so he could pick them up on the way to your house.

he tried his best to shake off his nerves as he raised his fist to knock on your front door. he heard rustling behind the wood before the it opened and there you stood. your hair styled just the way you liked it, sporting a gorgeous dress you had bought just for this special occasion, and a pretty shade of lipstick he just wanted to kiss right off of you.

you were the definition of show stopping.

“hey,” you smiled, grabbing your purse from the back of the sofa in arms length.

“hey,” he smiled, trying his best not to fumble as he handed you the flowers. you accepted them with the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, one almost as bright as the sun.

soon you were climbing into the extravagant mclaren, heading towards the restaurant. you watched the city you loved pass you by, and he watched as you looked out the window. you never looked prettier than you did right now. beautiful, but unaware.

he pulled up and let the valet take his keys. he offered you his arm as you walked into the dimly lit room, him saying a soft ‘be right back’ as he walked up the front desk.

he talked to the host, to which the host looked down at his book in front of him. you watched as the older man shook his head, lando immediately beginning to panic.

you laughed softly when he retuned to you with a sheepish grin, a hand scratching at the back of his neck, “so, apparently they ran out of room for this time. the girl on the phone wasn’t paying attention and overbooked. they offered a table but i didn’t want to take anyone’s reservation-“

you smiled, shaking your head as your heart tightened in your chest at his thoughtfulness towards complete strangers, “‘s okay,”

“did you wanna come back later? or we could go somewhere else! i know this good sushi place a few blocks away-“

“you don’t eat sushi.” you laughed.

“yeah, but if you want it, i can suffer,” he shrugged and you couldn’t help the grin on your face. you shook your head, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the restaurant.

“i saw a burger place down at this corner,” you said, making the left out of the doors and heading towards the spot you saw on the drive here.

he furrowed his eyebrows at you, “burgers?”

you nodded, heels clicking against the concrete of the sidewalk, “yeah, is that okay with you?”

he looked over at you, nodding softly, “yeah, whatever you want.”

you led the way, and on the short walk there lando thought to himself. thought about how you didn’t really care that you couldn’t get into the fanciest italian place in the city. couldn’t have cared less, actually.

His mind shifted from ‘oh no, this date is going to be one of the worst ones ever’ to ‘actually, this might be one of the best ones’.

you ordered your food and found one of the tables, lando insisting on pulling the chair out for you. you laughed and thanked him, sitting across from him as he took his suit jacket off and hung it on the back of the chair.

“‘m sorry,”

he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. but he felt the need to.

“don’t be,” you shook your head, “this is still pretty great.”

“you sure?” he asked. his eyes full of worry and genuine concern. he felt like he had let you down. felt like he couldn’t uphold his promise to the perfect date.

“as much as fancy dinners are fun and all, i don’t mind a little burger joint once in a while either.”

he smiled. it was gonna be okay.

the older gentleman behind the counter called your number, lando getting up and grabbing the tray of food as the two of you talked. the food was incredible and the conversation the two of you had was even better.

when he stood to throw away your trash, you walked towards the counter to the elderly man. lando watched from the corner of his eye as you sparked up a conversation.

“the food was wonderful,” you smiled, “are you guys new?”

the older man shook his head, “been here a long time, about 20 years or so. people stopped coming in once that new fancy-schmancy restaurant down the street opened. you two are the only customers i’ve had all week.”

your heart hurt for the man, clear that he had poured all he owned into his business. you looked over to lando who joined the two of you now.

“well, i’m sure we’ll be back,” you smiled, “right, lan?”

“definitely,” lando nodded, “thanks for saving our date.”

the older man laughed, “you kids are welcome any time. thanks for giving me a chance.”

you said your goodbyes after learning the man’s name was frank. you opened the door, ready to walk out when you saw lando leave the man a tip. by the look on the older man’s face, you knew it was a decent amount. you smiled, your heart clenching in your chest as lando insisted that he kept it.

“no, i insist! you saved the date i landed with the girl of my dreams.”

you were sure now that he was the only man you’d ever be in love with.

“ready?”

his voice cut you off from your thoughts, nodding as you took his arm. waving goodbye to frank again as you walked down the sidewalk and back to the car.

— two.

winter break was finally in full swing. and this year, he had insisted on taking you on a vacation, a little get away since he had missed your two year anniversary due to the new race calendar.

so you did just that as soon as winter break started. a two week vacation in the maldives where it was just you, him, the sun and the sea.

you had spent the day in the bed, the both of you wrapped under the cool sheets. he had splurged and booked one of the fancy bungalows on the water, the beautiful clear blue water and the gorgeous scenery adding to the beauty of the whole trip.

after dinner, you were quick to grab one of your bikinis from the attached deck. he smiled as you walked back inside, the tiny two piece in your hands.

“sunset swim?”

you nodded, stepping inside the bathroom to change and to quickly pull your hair up. he changed as you did also, the two of you jumping off the wooden deck and into the water. your eyes traveled over to where he was pushing the wet curls from his forehead.

the water droplets clung to his sun kissed chest, the redness already slowly starting to fade and you knew it’d turn into a tan by the morning. he looked so pretty in this moment, the sunset behind him looking like a painting.

you swam towards him, letting him pull you closer by your hips. you wrapped your legs around his torso, his hands falling to the backs of your thighs.

“hey, pretty girl,”

you smiled back, the same gorgeous smile you’ve always had that he swore he’d never get sick of, “hey, handsome,”

he leaned down, dipping his head to kiss your lips. you hummed contently into the kiss, smiling against his lips. he pulled away after a few seconds, enjoying the feeling of your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“are you having a good time?”

his voice was laced with a hint of wonder, wonder if he had done a good job at making up for the fact that he was in vegas during your anniversary. he hated the fact that he had missed such an important milestone, but you had understood. you understood that his job would pull him place to place for weeks on end.

he had struck the lottery with you, the most understanding and comforting person. he knew you didn’t hold a grudge with him. and in reality, a date at frank’s would’ve made up for the missed time, but he really wanted to do something special.

you nodded, “having a great time, baby. thank you. for everything.”

“don’t have to thank me,” he said, “it was the least i could do.”

you chuckled, “i fear you’ve set my standards so unbelievably high.”

he laughed with you, “you’re saying i’ve ruined you?”

you hummed back, laughing when his head dipped to your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, “in more ways than one i hope.”

you laughed, your head falling back slightly. he smiled at the sight in front of him, how pretty your laugh was as it fell from your lips. how pretty you looked in the watercolored sunset, and how your eyes had that little sparkle. the same one they had that night you hugged him after the singapore race. the night he had finally grown the courage to ask you out.

he was so hopelessly in love with you. you had ruined him the same way he ruined you. but that was okay with him. he was certain that there was no one else in the world his soul would mesh with like yours.

“let’s get married.”

his blurted words caught the both of you off guard. you looked at him, wide eyed but a smile softly forming on your lips as you let out a chuckle, “what?”

“what?”

“lan, what did you say?”

he gulped now, scared that if he repeated it he’d be shot down. he knew you were the one he was going to marry, he’s known that forever. but, what if you weren’t on the same page yet. what if you weren’t ready for the marriage, the house, the dog, the kids.

dear god… please don’t let it be true.

“let’s get married,” he said again, this time a slight shake to his voice, “i mean, if that’s what you want- if you… if you want to.”

your face lit up in a smile as you cupped his face, “of course i want to. don’t question it for even a second.”

he smiled now, “you’re sure?”

you nodded, “you’re the only one i want. the one i wanna spend the rest of my life with, go grey with. the one i want to wake up next to and go to bed at the end of the night with. you’re it for me. you always have been,”

he smiled, pulling you closer if it was even possible, “so yeah. let’s get married.”

he kissed you sweetly, you flush against his chest. you kissed him back with just as much love and passion and longing, a sense of forever hanging in the air around you.

“c’mon,” he mumbled softly against your lips, “let’s go find your perfect ring.”

you followed him as he climbed out of the water, grabbing a towel from the lounge chairs. you climbed out with him, the two of you sitting out in the setting sun as you scrolled through his phone designing the perfect ring.

once you had settled on what you wanted, you smiled up at him as he made note to head to the jewelers in monaco as soon as he got back.

the two of you were about to head inside when you felt arms wrap around your body. you squealed and giggled when he threw you over his shoulder, taking you inside the bungalow with a playful slap on your butt before placing you on the bed, laughing when he climbed up your body, leaving a trail of kisses along your stomach and chest until he reached your lips once again.

and your bikini top might’ve found its way to the hardwood floor shortly after.

— three.

the cameras cut back to you as you watched the screens in front of you. you had been able to make it to the dutch grand prix, excitement in the air in the mclaren garage as it finally came down to the last five laps. lando held the lead from his pole position, right ahead of the other papaya car that belonged to oscar. the two mclarens leading the pack with verstappen in third.

you and lily were holding hands, the camera man zooming into the sparkling diamond on that finger. the one that everyone had seen all over their timelines, the one that cause so many articles to be written about how much it could be worth. it was the talk of the paddock.

‘little lando norris’ was engaged!

you had even seen charles and max talking earlier, charles defeatedly handing max a twenty dollar bill. you laughed at the idea that your friends had placed a bet on your fiancé. a little harsh, but fitting, and most of all, funny as fuck.

the end of the race came closer and closer until both mclarens crossed the line, checkered flag waving as it showed on screen as a mclaren one-two. you and lily cheered happily, you pulling her into a hug. you both joined in the sea of papaya as they raced to the parc fermé.

the mechanics and engineers made sure to let you and lily come to the front of the crowd. the two of you still holding hands as you cheered for the men in papaya. you dropped her hand as oscar came over to her, pulling her into a hug across the metal barricade. you smiled at the young couple before you saw a certain someone enter your peripheral.

lando made his way to you, opening his arms as you reached across the barrier to hug him. you smiled, taking in the familiar smell of fuel and rubber.

“i’m so proud of you,” the happy tears glossing over your eyes filled his chest with a certain sense of pride. one that he would always crave, “you were amazing.”

“and you’re my trophy,” he smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips, “my favorite one.”

“don’t lie, you love that miami one.”

“none of them could ever compare to you, love.”

you smiled, acknowledging the fact that he had to be whisked away. you were quick to give oscar a hug, lily doing the same for lando as you watched both men dressed in papaya walk off, lando patting his younger teammate on the back.

you all stayed, waiting for them to take their spots on the podium. you smiled when he took the top step, the british national anthem playing loud and proud. you could see that he was searching for you in the large crowd, and when he found you he smiled to himself before putting his hand to his heart and pointing at you. a silent way of saying ‘i love you’.

you mouthed the words back to him, unsure if he could see you say them. but you know that he knows you did.

it was a couple hours later when he returned to his drivers room. you had positioned yourself on the sofa comfortably, scrolling through your phone and liking all the things the fans had to say about your engagement, the ring and most of all the race.

“ready, fiancée?”

you nodded, taking his extended hand. the two of you walking through the mclaren hospitality as you all bid a ‘good night’ to one another.

your phone buzzed with an incoming call. the call you had been anxious about reciving.

you looked over at lando, softly dropping his hand which made him look over to you curiously, “everything okay?”

you nodded, “i gotta take this call. i’ll be right back.”

he nodded, letting you walk away. luckily, a couple of the drivers seemed to be heading in your direction, giving someone for lando to talk to while you took the call.

“hello?” you raised the phone to your ear.

“hi! is this y/n?”

“it is,”

“great! it’s doctor jenkins, how’re you, honey?”

“i’m good, how’re you?”

“good!” you could hear her smile on the other end of the phone, “i just wanted to give you a call because we got your test results back. is this information you’re okay with me giving to you over the phone?”

“yeah,” you said, “totally okay.”

“perfect,” she smiled, “in that case, i just wanted to say that you are clear from the stomach bug and any other gastrointestinal issues. however, your hcg levels came back extremely high, which means-“

“i’m pregnant?”

your heart dropped, your eyes fixing to lando who was laughing with lewis, charles, yuki and oscar. you immediately felt the bile burn its way up your throat. you swallowed it down, remembering that you had the doctor on the phone.

“exactly,” she said happily, “you’re about four weeks now. congratulations!”

“i- i don’t know what to say.” you stood, shocked that your entire world just changed with one simple phone call.

“i understand, and i know this is all new and quite scary, but just know you have an amazing support system- not just with me and my office, but with your fiancé and your friends as well.”

you smiled at the older woman’s sweet words, “thank you, doctor jenkins.”

“no need to thank me,” she said, “while i have you, i just wanted to set up your first appointment for when you get back, just a little check on the baby and make sure they’re healthy and well.”

you agreed on a day and time after you get back to london from the netherlands. you hung up the phone, the worry and shock still running through your system but a hint of slight relief from the woman’s sweet words.

you walked back over to lando, who looked at you with slight concern. you said hello to your friends, thanking them all for their congratulations before you looked to lando. the others engaging in their own conversations.

“you okay?” he asked lowly.

“can we go back to the hotel? i’m not feeling good,”

he nodded, “of course,” he took your hand in his as he turned to his fellow drivers, “we’re gonna head back. see you guys next week!”

“see you, mate!”

“night!”

you walked with lando in a comfortable silence back to the car. the two of you climbing into the back before the driver made his way to your hotel.

you made it to your shared room, anxiety still radiating off you and he could feel it.

he kicked his shoes off as he joined you on the edge of the bed, “hey, you okay, baby?”

you chewed on your bottom lip, tears burning in your eyes as you shook your head, “uhm, i don’t know,”

he frowned, “hey, hey,” he gently brought a hand up to wipe away your tears, “what’s the matter? what’s got you so upset?”

“lan, that call,” you said, “it was from my doctor.”

the instant worry that flashed through his eyes was unnoticed, and you couldn’t help the tears from streaming down your face.

“is everything okay?”

“yeah,” you nodded, “i mean- maybe? i think so? i don’t know,”

“what’d she say, baby?” he asked, his voice gentle. you appreciated how gentle he was with you. always.

“i don’t have the stomach bug,” you said, “im.. i’m pregnant, lan.”

his eyes went wide, his heart dropping for a millisecond, “you’re pregnant?”

you nodded, biting down on your lip to try to hold back your tears. however, the disgust and repulsiveness and disappointment you were expecting never came. instead, you watched as his face broke out into a smile.

“i’m gonna be a dad?”

you nodded, “and i’m gonna be a mom.”

“baby, this is great!” he smiled, now happy tears starting to form in his eyes as he wiped yours away, “we get to be parents! and baby, we’re gonna be the coolest fucking parents ever.”

his excitement reeled you back in, “you’re not.. upset? not even a little?”

“why would i be upset?” he asked, “i mean, was this planned? not really, but we weren’t necessarily not planning for this either. but it’s okay, our little best friend is in there!”

your heart was so full it felt like it could burst. you loved him with every fiber in your being. til the ends of the earth. everything was gonna be okay.

you smiled, “we’re having a baby,”

he nodded, kissing the top of your head as he pulled you closer into his chest as he repeated it back to you, “we’re having a baby.”

you sat like that for a while, letting him press kisses to your hair and your temples, every doubt in your mind slowly fading away. all because of him.

— four.

the machines beeping slowly faded into the background as the two of you looked down at your beautiful baby girl. the pink blanket wrapped around her small frame, her finger holding onto lando’s. it was a sight that would make any heartless man cry.

you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder as you sat together on the hospital bed, your voice low, “we made the cutest little girl.”

“she’s got your eyes,” he mumbled softly, admiring the beauty of his daughter. all of each of your best traits compiled into one tiny little human. a human that was already loved by so many and who had so many people excited to meet her.

two of those many people knocking on the door gently. you and lando smiled, you laughing at the ridiculously large teddy bear that was almost as tall as the man carrying it.

“he saw it in the gift shop window and insisted,” p laughed, “he said he would be ‘the worst uncle ever’ if he didn’t get it, even though i said she’d never know.”

you and lando laughed as max put the giant bear next to all the other gifts. the little girl was only 5 hours old and has already met all her grandparents and aunties and uncles. everyone had either shown up with balloons, flowers or a little baby outfit. oscar had shown up with a custom made mclaren shirt, one that of course had the australian and the british flag on it.

but max was taking the cake with the giant teddy bear.

“she would hate me, i know it,” max said, smiling softly at his friend who was holding the little girl so delicately, “would you look at that. already a daddy’s girl.”

“i fear she was like that since she was in the womb,” you said, “she’d kick me every time she heard him talk.”

“she was just excited to hear her papa,” lando joked and you all laughed softly as you looked over to the couple in front of you, “you guys wanna hold her?”

pietra nodded excitedly, taking the sleeping baby from lando’s arms gently before sitting in the reclining chair next to the bed. max stood next to her, half sitting on the arm rest as he smiled down at the little girl.

“what name did you come up with?” max asked, raising his head to look at the two of you.

you told them her name and the two of them smiled, “very fitting.”

“isn’t it?!” you smiled, “lando didn’t like it at first.”

“shocker,” max joked and lando raised his hands in mock surrender.

“i like it now,” he said, “that’s all that matters.”

“she’s perfect,” pietra said, “oh my goodness, look! she’s got a lando mole!”

“i know!” you cooed, “that was the first thing i said!”

lando and max shook their heads and laughed at their partners. you laid your head on his shoulder again, the two of you smiling as you watched max look at her with love in his eyes. he was ready to do anything for this baby girl like his life depended on it.

“wanna hold her, max?”

max was hesitant, but agreed when p urged him. he sat in the chair and let her put the baby girl into his arms. just as he got situated, she woke up from her nap. happy gurgles and a giggle escaping from her lips when she opened her eyes and saw max.

“oh my goodness, look at you,” he smiled, “hello little one! i’m your uncle max.”

you smiled as she made happy baby noises, ineligible but still cute. and most importantly, happy.

“so, we were thinking and we wanted to ask you, with your guys’ approval of course,” lando started, “we want you guys to be her godparents.”

the two of them looked at you with slightly wide eyes, “you’re serious?”

you both nodded, “we don’t see why not.”

“immediately yes, of course!” p smiled, leaning over to hug the both of you. you laughed, hugging her back as max looked to his best friend with happy tears in his eyes.

“thank you, buddy.”

lando nodded, smiling as he wiped his own tears from his eyes, “you guys mean the world to us, so. it’s the least we can do, really.”

“yknow, the name maxine has a really nice ring to it,” max joked and all of you laughed.

“i don’t think so, bud.”

“worth a shot.”

you smiled up at lando who turned his neck to smile back at you. you giggled softly when he placed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

you both laid there in complete contentment as you watched your best friends giggle and play with the little girl in max’s arms. almost all the people you loved in the same room, your whole heart together.

you were sure that this is what life was all about. moments like these.

— five.

“guys! everyone’s gonna be here soon!” you yelled up the stairs, mainly talking to your now husband, but instead, your freshly turned three year old daughter popped up at the top of the stairs.

“momma! come look!”

you giggled softly, making your way up the stairs and following your daughter into her bedroom.

“what’re you guys up to?”

“look!” she beamed, bringing you a piece of paper, “we drew daddy’s race car!”

you smiled down at you husband who smiled back at you, “don’t forget, we drew uncle oscar’s too, baby.”

the little girl bounced up and down, “look, mommy! uncle oscar!”

you laughed, crouching down next to lando who had found himself in one of the tiny chairs. you looked at the pictures they drew, “are you gonna give it to uncle oscar and aunt lily when they get here?”

“yeah!” she smiled, “but i want daddy to keep his.”

“i’m gonna hang it on the highest spot on the fridge,” lando smiled, “so everyone can see just how talented my little girl is.”

you smiled at the two as he picked her up, standing up with her on his hip. you were impressed he managed to get out of the tiny wooden chair with no help.

you stood with them, smiling as you tried to fix your daughters unruly curls, “we gotta get you changed, little miss. everyone’s gonna be here soon.”

“everyone for my birthday party?”

you nodded, “yep! everyone’s coming to celebrate the birthday girl!”

she laughed and smiled as lando tickled her sides playfully. you laughed with them, your whole heart in one tiny little room.

the doorbell rang and you smiled, calling back to the two as you moved to get the door, “hurry up! everyone’s coming!”

you laughed when you heard her and lando talking about princess dresses and tutus, jogging down the stairs to open the door. you smiled when you were met with cisca and adam, bringing them into a hug before they came inside.

“hi honey!” cisca smiled.

“hi guys!” you smiled, “how’re you? how was the drive?”

“good!” adam said, “drive wasn’t too bad.”

“not at all!” cisca smiled, “i just can’t believe she’s three already.”

you nodded, “me either.”

and speaking of the devil, she came barreling down the stairs. bright pink princess dress on topped with the matching tiara to sit on top of her messy brown curls. ones that resembled lando’s.

“grandma! grandpa!”

“hey, little one!”

“there’s the birthday girl!”

you spent a few minutes catching up with his parents before others started to show up. and before you knew it, you had a full house of people who came up to celebrate your daughters birthday. a house full of love.

you smiled as she played with the other kids invited, lando’s arm wrapping around you. you smiled, leaning into his side as you watched your daughter laugh and smile.

“i know we’ve talked about it a bit before, but would you want another?” he asked, looking over at you. you met his eyes, smiling softly before nodding.

“yeah, i do,” you smiled, looking back into the yard, “i feel like she would like a sibling, too.”

he nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “me too.”

“there you two are!” you heard max before the sound of the back door closing caught your attention, max and p waking towards you two with smiles, “we’ve been looking for you.”

“what’s up?” you asked.

p handed you an envelope with a smile, her diamond ring sparkling brightly in the sunshine, “we’ve been wanting to tell you in person, and maybe your daughters birthday isn’t the best time to tell you, but, we wanted to tell you before everyone else.”

you both looked at them confused before lando opened the envelope, the sonogram picture making both of your eyes go wide. they smiled as you squealed happily, pulling p into a hug.

“you’re kidding!? this is great!!” you smiled, lando pulling his best friend into a hug as well. the four of you laughing and smiling.

“congrats, mate!” lando smiled.

“yknow what this means, right?” you asked and p nodded happily.

“baby clothes shopping!”

“oh my god,” max groaned playfully, looking to his friend as the two girls talked about baby clothes, “does it end?”

lando smiled, shaking his head as he watched you laugh and smile with p, “no, but that’s the best part.”

it was true. the best parts of his life always contained you. the other half of his beating heart.

you smiled at lando as p showed you all the different ideas she had for the nursery already. he smiled back, love written all over his face.

he solidified it by mouthing those 3 words, ‘i love you’.

‘i love you, too’.

[miakat9]

Down Under || LN4 Masterlist

Summary

landonorris x piastri!reader

19 years old and fresh into your first year of uni, you meet your brother‘s teammate at your home grand prix in Melbourne. You connect instantly through your mutual banter. A little bit of flirting never hurt anyone, right? Especially not with the good looking, famous, older guy you definitely shouldn’t be getting too close to…

Chapters

01. Snapshots & Surprises

02. Rain, Champagne and a papaya Jacket

[miakat9]

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Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff. Crack treated seriously

Warnings: 18+, fluff, secondhand embarrassment, teasing, implied smut if you squint, lando being a menace & insufferable, unresolved tension, suggestive comments, mutual pining, Y/N fighting for her life, suggestive content, makeout session, mutual pining, nsfw, they like each other so much get a room

Word Count: ~7.7k

Summary: the one where y/n runs a Tumblr account about Lando and posts fics about him, cue to chaos

tried my hand at writing something that's not in third person

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You should’ve closed your laptop.

You should’ve closed your laptop.

It was a simple action. One you always did when Lando came over. Because no one—not a single soul—could ever find out about your Tumblr account.

But apparently, the universe had other plans.

Lando was in your kitchen, rummaging through your fridge like he owned the place, while you were curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone. It was supposed to be a chill night—just movies, snacks, and him being annoying as usual.

And then you heard it.

“Wait.”

You looked up, confused. Lando was frozen, standing behind your desk, your very open laptop in front of him.

Your very open Tumblr dashboard in front of him.

With a very specific post displayed at the top.

A post about him.

Your stomach dropped. “Lando.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at the screen, his eyebrows raising higher by the second.

Then, slowly—so painfully slowly—he turned to face you, a shit-eating grin already forming.

“What. Is. This?”

Your soul left your body.

“Nothing,” you blurted out, scrambling off the couch. “Close it. Right now.”

But he didn’t close it. Of course he didn’t.

Instead, he scrolled.

“Oh my God—Lando, STOP.” You lunged for your laptop, but he dodged, laughing as he held it out of reach.

“‘His hands gripped my waist, possessive, desperate—’” He snorted, eyes flicking over the words. “Jesus, is this about me?”

You wanted to die. Right there. On the spot. Instant cardiac arrest.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP.” You tried to grab it again, but he was too quick, spinning away, now fully invested in your blog.

“‘Lando Norris was dangerous in the kind of way that ruined you for anyone else—’” He whistled, eyes wide. “Wow. You really think I’m that good, huh?”

You groaned, face burning. “I swear to GOD, if you don’t stop—”

But he just grinned, scrolling further.

“Oh, look! A fic! Let’s see what I’ve been up to.”

You panicked. “LAN—”

And then he started reading out loud.

“‘His breath was hot against my neck, sending shivers down my spine as he whispered—’”

“I’M DELETING THE BLOG.”

“‘Tell me who you belong to, baby.’”

“I’M BLOCKING MY OWN ACCOUNT.”

Lando lost it, doubling over in laughter, your laptop now clutched to his chest like it was his most prized possession.

“Oh, this is amazing. This is the best day of my life.”

You buried your face in your hands, wishing the earth would just swallow you whole. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You peeked through your fingers, glowering. “Yes, I do.”

He just smirked, finally setting your laptop down—but not before saving your blog link to his phone.

“Oh, you are NEVER living this down.”

You groaned again, flopping onto the couch, officially defeated.

Lando chuckled, moving to sit beside you, his arm draping over your shoulders. “So… do I actually whisper filthy things in your ear, or was that just for the fic?”

You whacked him with a pillow.

“I’m never speaking to you again.”

Lando snorted, leaning back against the couch, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on. You’re being dramatic.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms. “Dramatic? You just found out I run a Tumblr fan account dedicated to you. Do you understand how mortifying that is?”

“Oh, trust me, I do.” He grinned, stretching his legs out. “Because I’ve read your work. And I gotta say, I’m impressed.”

Your entire body burned with embarrassment. “I hate you.”

He clicked his tongue, smirking. “You already said that. But according to your fics, you also ‘crave me in ways words could never fully describe.’”

“I’M DEACTIVATING.”

Lando laughed, full and genuine, his stupid dimples making an appearance.

“Seriously, though. How long have you had it?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. There was no getting out of this. “A couple of years. Since before we even met.”

His eyebrows shot up. “So, you were obsessed with me before I even knew you existed? Damn, that’s kinda hot.”

“I’m begging you to shut up.”

Lando ignored you, his mind already working overtime. “Wait—does that mean you’ve written fics about me and other girls?”

You froze.

His eyes widened. “OH MY GOD, YOU HAVE.”

“IT WAS BEFORE I KNEW YOU.”

“SO YOU SHIPPED ME WITH OTHER PEOPLE?!”

You grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face. ���STOP MAKING THIS WORSE.”

He caught it easily, grinning like an absolute menace. “Wow. Betrayal. And here I thought I was your favorite.”

You groaned, covering your face again. “This is literally the worst night of my life.”

Lando chuckled, shifting closer until his leg was pressed against yours. “Nah, this is great. Best night, actually.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

You huffed, looking away. He was too close now, his familiar scent—cologne, a little sweat, a hint of something sweet—messing with your head.

Lando must’ve noticed, because his voice dropped, lower, smoother. “So… which one’s your favorite?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

He smirked, fingertips tracing random patterns on your thigh. “Which fic? Out of all the ones you wrote about me. Which one do you like the most?”

Your mouth went dry.

Because you knew exactly which one it was.

And it was not PG-13.

“Oh my God. You’re thinking of one right now.”

Lando’s voice was pure amusement, but there was something else underneath it too—something teasing, something dark, something undeniably smug.

You swallowed hard, trying to play it cool. “No, I’m not.”

“You so are.” His fingers brushed over your knee, barely there, but enough to make you shiver.

“Lando.”

He hummed, tilting his head. “You wrote about it.” His fingers slid a little higher. “Wanna recreate it?”

Your breath hitched.

His smirk widened.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I hate you.”

Lando grinned, cocky and completely unaffected. “You keep saying that, but I’m starting to think you mean something else.”

Your jaw clenched, doing your best to ignore the way his fingers were still casually resting against your leg, warm and so distracting. You weren’t going to let him win this.

Not after he found your Tumblr. Not after he read your fics.

Not after he figured out exactly how much you wanted him.

“You are never letting this go, are you?” You muttered, refusing to look at him.

Lando leaned in, voice low and infuriatingly smug. “Oh, absolutely not.”

Your entire face burned. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah?” His fingers traced small circles against your thigh, barely there but enough to make your breath hitch. “Then why are you still letting me touch you?”

You snapped your legs shut, shoving his hand away like you weren’t seconds away from losing your mind. “Because I haven’t kicked you out yet. But don’t test me.”

Lando laughed, throwing his head back. “God, you’re cute when you’re defensive.”

“I am not defensive!”

“Mhm. Sure.” He stretched, acting like this was the most casual conversation ever, like he wasn’t slowly destroying you from the inside out. “So… about that fic.”

You groaned, dropping your head back against the couch. “Lando.”

“What? I’m just curious.” He nudged you with his elbow. “Come on. Which one’s your favorite? The one where I take you in the backseat of a McLaren? Or the one where you call me ‘Sir’ and—”

“I’M BLOCKING YOU.”

Lando cackled, absolutely thriving off your suffering. “Oh, babe, it’s too late for that. You should’ve blocked me before I found your blog. Now I know everything.”

You whined, grabbing a pillow and burying your face in it. Maybe if you ignored him long enough, he’d magically disappear.

But, of course, Lando never made things that easy.

His voice dropped, teasing but also… something else. Something thicker, heavier. “You know… we could make it real.”

Your breath caught.

Slowly, you peeked out from behind the pillow, heart hammering. “What?”

He tilted his head, watching you like he was memorizing every little reaction. “If you want. If you think your writing is accurate, we could… test it out. See if I really do all the things you imagined.”

Oh.

Oh.

Your brain short-circuited.

“You’re messing with me.”

Lando shrugged, eyes still locked on yours. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanna know what’s got you writing about me late at night.”

Your throat went dry. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, but you love it.” His smirk deepened. “And, apparently, you love me.”

You hated that he was right.

You hated that your entire body was betraying you, your pulse racing, your breath uneven.

Most of all, you hated that you were actually considering it.

Because the way he was looking at you now—dark eyes, lazy smirk, confidence dripping from every inch of him—made it really, really hard to say no.

“So, what’s it gonna be, babe?” Lando murmured, fingers grazing your wrist, slow and deliberate.

Your heart pounded.

You knew exactly where this was going.

And you didn’t want to stop it.

Not even a little bit.

“Fuck it,” you whispered, grabbing him by the collar.

And then you closed the gap.

Lando barely had a second to react before your lips crashed into his, the force of it knocking the smirk right off his face.

But he recovered fast—his hands instantly sliding around your waist, pulling you in like this was exactly what he’d been waiting for.

And maybe he had.

The kiss was hot, messy, desperate, all the teasing from earlier boiling over into something neither of you could control anymore. You could feel him smiling against your lips, like he was so damn pleased with himself for pushing you this far.

So you bit his lip.

Lando groaned, hands tightening on your hips. “Fuck, okay. That’s how we’re playing?”

“Shut up.” You kissed him again, hands threading through his stupidly soft curls, tugging just hard enough to make him swear under his breath.

He exhaled a sharp laugh, pulling you fully into his lap like he had zero patience left. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

You just smirked, nails dragging lightly against the back of his neck. “And you talk too much.”

Lando opened his mouth to say something—probably another cocky remark—but you cut him off with another kiss, grinding down just enough to make his breath hitch.

His fingers dug into your thighs, grip tightening. “Jesus, babe. You tryna kill me?”

“Just proving a point.”

Lando licked his lips, watching you like you were his next win on the track. “Yeah? And what point is that?”

You leaned in, lips brushing against his ear. “That I could write something even better after this.”

His reaction was instant—a low curse, a sharp breath, his hands gripping you harder like he was fighting the urge to just flip you over and take control.

And that’s when you realized.

Lando loved the chase. Loved being the one teasing, the one making you squirm. But now? Now he was the one losing his mind, the one stuck between wanting to keep up the game and completely unraveling beneath you.

And it was delicious.

You smirked, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his jaw. “Speechless, Norris? That’s a first.”

Lando exhaled sharply, his hands skimming under your shirt, warm and all-consuming. “Oh, babe. You have no idea what you just started.”

You tilted your head. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

His grip tightened, his smile turning dangerous.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Lando’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he looked at you like you were his next race, his next win—something he had to conquer, own, ruin in the best way possible.

And maybe you would’ve let him.

If you weren’t having so much fun watching him lose his mind.

You smirked, running your fingers down his chest slowly, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. “What’s wrong, Norris? Cat got your tongue?”

His jaw ticked, hands flexing on your hips. “Careful, babe. You keep talking like that, and I’m gonna have to shut you up myself.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, fingers dipping under the hem of his shirt. “That supposed to scare me?”

Lando let out a low laugh, but it sounded strained, like he was fighting every single instinct telling him to take control.

“Not scared, huh?” He leaned in, breath hot against your lips. “Even if I do… this?”

Before you could respond, his hands squeezed your thighs, dragging you closer until there was nothing between you.

You let out a shaky breath, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you completely fall apart. Not yet.

Instead, you smiled sweetly, tracing your fingers down his arm. “That all you got, Norris? Thought you were supposed to be a world-class driver.”

Lando’s eyes flashed, and you knew you’d just made a huge mistake.

Because now? He was done playing.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that.” His voice was low, dangerous, like the calm before a storm.

And you?

You were so fucked.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Lando’s voice was low, the kind that sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers flexed on your hips, holding you therelike he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

And the look in his eyes?

Yeah, you were so done for.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your cool. “Big words, Norris. But I’m still waiting.”

Lando huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “You just love pushing your luck, don’t you?”

You smirked, tilting your head slightly. “Maybe.”

His grip on you tightened, and for a second, you thought he was actually going to give in—going to kiss you, ruin you, wipe that smug look off your face with his lips.

But then?

He did something much worse.

Lando leaned in, lips barely brushing your ear, voice low and smug as hell when he whispered,

“I read the smut, you know.”

Your entire body locked up.

“…You what?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Oh yeah. I read all of it.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Every single detail.” His fingers traced small circles on your waist. “All those filthy little thoughts in that pretty head of yours. Want me to list some of my favorites?”

Oh. Oh no. Oh fuck.

Your face burned, heart racing way too fast. “Lando—”

“What was it you wrote the other day?” He pretended to think, tapping his fingers against your hip. “Oh, right. ‘Lando looks like he’d be the type to ruin you against the nearest surface and then act all innocent about it.’”

Your soul left your body.

“That was a joke, obviously,” you blurted out, your voice way too high-pitched to be convincing.

Lando just grinned, eyes gleaming. “Mmm, was it? Because it sounded like you spent a lot of time thinking about it.”

You wanted to die.

You shoved at his chest, face on fire. “Oh my god, shut up.”

Lando laughed, the sound bright and teasing, like he was having the time of his life watching you absolutely crumble in front of him.

“What else did you say? Oh—‘I bet he’d love taking his time, dragging it out until I’m begging’—”

“LANDO.”

He was cackling now, gripping your wrist when you tried to flee. “Aw, babe, don’t be shy. I think it’s cute.”

You glared at him, trying (and failing) to regain even a shred of dignity. “You’re the worst.”

Lando just smirked, leaning in again. “If I’m the worst, why’d you write an entire fantasy about me?”

You hated how your breath hitched, how your pulse raced, how he was way too close and way too cocky about it.

“That was fiction,” you muttered, even though your body was betraying you with every second that passed.

Lando tilted his head, lips barely inches from yours. “So if I kissed you right now, it wouldn’t be like what you wrote?”

Your breath caught.

His fingers brushed against your jaw, thumb grazing your lips, teasing.

“Wouldn’t feel that good?” His voice was softer now, but the intensity in his eyes? Burning.

You hated him.

You wanted him.

And he knew it.

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping his hoodie. “Why don’t you find out?”

Lando’s smirk dropped.

For the first time since this whole thing started, you had him right where you wanted him.

And you weren’t backing down.

Not this time.

Lando’s smirk faltered.

For the first time all night, you had him exactly where you wanted him.

And the way his fingers tensed against your skin? How his lips parted, breath just a little uneven?

Yeah. He knew it too.

His gaze flickered to your lips. Once. Twice.

You almost dared him to do it.

Almost.

But Lando Norris was nothing if not stubborn, and you should’ve known he wouldn’t make this easy.

Instead, he did what he always did.

He made you wait.

“You want me to find out?” His voice was low, teasing. Deadly.

Your pulse spiked, fingers tightening on his hoodie. “Are you always this annoying?”

Lando grinned, tilting his head. “Only for you.”

Before you could snap back, he moved.

Slowly. Deliberately.

His hand slid from your waist, up your side, over your ribs, until his thumb brushed the edge of your jaw. His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up, holding you there like he had all the time in the world.

You swallowed.

Hard.

Because this was different.

This wasn’t him teasing you for fun. This wasn’t him trying to get under your skin just to see you flustered.

This was something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

You could feel it in the way his thumb traced soft circles against your cheek, in the way his chest rose and fell just a little too quickly.

And when he spoke again?

It was barely above a whisper.

“Tell me if you don’t want this.”

Your breath hitched.

Lando’s forehead pressed against yours, his nose grazing yours, and fuck— this was so much worse than just kissing you outright.

Because now you could feel everything. The way his fingers tightened slightly, like he was holding back. The way his lips were just barely there, almost taunting you.

“I—” Your voice caught, because, holy shit, he wasn’t playing anymore.

His thumb traced your bottom lip, slow. Precise.

“Last chance, love,” he murmured.

You exhaled shakily, the tension thick enough to drown in.

And then?

Then you did the only thing you could.

You closed the gap.

Finally.

Lando swore softly against your lips, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually go through with it.

Like he had just lost some kind of game.

But the second he recovered?

He took control.

His hands moved to your waist, gripping tight as he pulled you flush against him. His lips moved against yours with that stupid mix of confidence and recklessness, like he had been waiting for this moment forever.

And honestly?

Maybe you had too.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan into the kiss. And fuck, you wanted to memorize that sound, wanted to hear it again and again and—

Lando suddenly flipped you, pressing you into the couch, half on top of you now, grinning against your mouth.

“So, I was right.”

You blinked up at him, still breathless, still so lost in him that it took a second for his words to register.

“…What?”

Lando smirked, but his voice was soft, almost too soft when he whispered,

“I really can ruin you against the nearest surface.”

Your stomach flipped.

And that was when you knew—

You were so completely screwed.

Lando was still hovering over you, smirk barely there, but his eyes?

His eyes told a different story.

Because he was wrecked.

Just as much as you were.

Maybe more.

But he was still being Lando. Still being the cocky little shit who knew exactly what he was doing to you.

So when he spoke next?

It was deadly.

“You’re staring.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie. “No, I’m not.”

Lando laughed, but it came out rough, like he was feeling every bit of this too.

“You’re literally looking at my mouth right now.”

Your gaze snapped up immediately. “Am not.”

“Liar.”

“Asshole.”

Lando grinned, but then his expression shifted, the teasing slipping into something quieter.

Something dangerous.

His fingers brushed along your jaw, so gentle it made you ache. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you like this. Like he was memorizing you.

You swallowed hard. “Lando…”

He hummed, but he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t stop looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

And fuck— It was too much.

“Say it.” His voice was low, rough, like he was barely holding on.

Your breath caught.

“Say what?”

Lando’s lips hovered over yours, so fucking close that you felt his breath, but he didn’t close the gap.

Didn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

“Say you want me.”

Your heart stuttered, because— Fuck.

This wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t teasing.

This was real.

And it was so much worse because he didn’t say it like a challenge. He didn’t say it like he was certain you already did.

He said it like he needed to hear it.

Like he needed you to say it first.

Your throat felt tight, chest aching, because it was always supposed to be a game with Lando.

Always a push and pull.

But suddenly— It wasn’t.

Suddenly, it felt like this moment was everything.

And maybe that scared you more than anything.

But you still said it.

Still let it slip past your lips, quiet and shaky but unmistakably true.

“I want you.”

Lando’s breath hitched.

And then?

Then he kissed you.

Really kissed you.

Not the way he had before— Not playful or teasing or just for the sake of winning.

This was different.

This was slow, needy, like he was pouring every unspoken thing between you into the way his lips moved against yours.

Like he had been waiting for this moment forever.

And maybe he had.

Maybe you had too.

His fingers tangled in your hair, deepening the kiss, pulling you closer, closer, closer like he couldn’t get enough.

And fuck, neither could you.

Because you had kissed him before, but it had never felt like this.

Like he meant it.

Like you did.

Like neither of you were running anymore.

Lando’s lips were still on yours, but now?

Now, it wasn’t desperate.

Now, it was soft.

Like he was savoring it.

Like he was memorizing every second.

And maybe you were too.

Your fingers slipped beneath the fabric of his hoodie, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Lando exhaled, a quiet sound against your lips before he pulled back, just enough to look at you.

His forehead pressed against yours, breath still uneven, eyes still dark.

And then he smiled.

Not cocky. Not teasing.

Just soft.

Just Lando.

“I should’ve done that a long time ago.”

Your heart skipped, but you still managed to breathe out, “Yeah, no shit.”

Lando laughed, and fuck— The sound made your chest feel lighter than it had in days.

“I mean it.” His voice was gentle now, his fingers brushing down your arm. “You really didn’t know, did you?”

You bit your lip. “Know what?”

His thumb traced lazy circles along your wrist, gaze flickering over your face like he was deciding whether to say it.

Then, finally—

“That I’m fucking crazy about you.”

Your stomach dropped.

Because— What the fuck?

Your lips parted, but the words got stuck in your throat, and Lando?

Lando just smirked.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

But then his expression softened again, and suddenly, it wasn’t just teasing anymore.

Suddenly, it was real.

And it terrified you.

Because he meant it. Because Lando Norris meant it.

And you?

You were so gone for him it wasn’t even funny.

So you swallowed the fear down and just let yourself have this.

For once.

You leaned in, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, voice barely above a whisper—

“Yeah, well… I’m kinda crazy about you too.”

Lando’s eyes lit up, and before you could blink, he was kissing you again.

Slower this time.

Sweeter.

Like he wanted to make sure you believed him.

And maybe— Maybe for the first time—

You did.

Lando kissed you deeper this time.

Not teasing. Not hesitant.

Just wanting.

And fuck, you felt it everywhere.

His hands slid down your waist, fingers gripping like he was scared to let go. Like if he did, you’d slip away again.

Your back hit the couch, the weight of him pressing into you, his hoodie bunched up where your hands had fisted into it.

“Is this okay?” His voice was low, lips brushing against yours.

You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him.

“Need to hear you say it, love.”

God.

Your stomach flipped, the way his voice dropped, the way his hands stayed gentle even when everything else about him was wrecking you.

“Yes, Lando.”

That was all he needed.

He groaned, pressing his lips back to yours, his fingers slipping beneath your hoodie, tracing hot lines over your bare skin.

Your breath hitched when his lips moved, traveling down your jaw, kissing, nipping, teasing until he reached that sweet spot at the base of your neck.

You whimpered, and he smirked against your skin.

“That’s new, huh?”

Your face burned, but you still rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And so you did.

You pulled him back down, fingers threading through his curls, tugging just hard enough to hear that little groan that made your thighs squeeze together.

Lando noticed.

Oh, he definitely noticed.

“You like that?” he murmured, voice all gravel and honey.

You refused to answer, refused to give him that satisfaction, but then his fingers trailed lower, his knee nudging between your thighs and—

“Lando—”

Yeah. You were gone.

And he knew it.

His lips found yours again, hotter this time, hungrier, like he was making up for every second he hadn’t done this before.

Like he was making up for all the time wasted.

And fuck, you let him.

You let him take his time, let his hands explore, let his lips ruin you.

Because he was yours now.

And you?

You were his.

Lando’s lips were everywhere—soft, urgent, like he was memorizing you, like he was making up for all the times he hadn’t done this before.

Like he wanted to make sure he’d never forget how you felt beneath him.

His fingers slipped beneath your hoodie, the tips grazing up your sides, teasing, not quite touching where you needed him.

You gasped against his lips, your nails digging into his shoulders, needing something to hold on to because he was ruining you, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever recover.

Lando chuckled, his voice deep and husky, completely wrecked.

“You’re squirming, love.”

“Shut up.”

He hummed, his fingers tracing circles on your hips. “But you love it, don’t you?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but then he shifted, his knee pressing just right, and whatever you were going to say died on your tongue.

Lando grinned, completely and utterly smug. “That’s what I thought.”

You huffed, trying to glare at him, but your body betrayed you, your hands slipping into his curls, tugging just enoughto earn that deep, guttural groan that made your stomach flip.

God.

You could listen to that sound forever.

His lips found your neck again, suckling lightly, sending shivers down your spine. “Gonna write about this on your blog, sweetheart?”

You froze.

And then promptly smacked his arm.

“Lando!”

He laughed, the vibrations tickling against your skin, but when you tried to move away, he didn’t let you go.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, lips brushing your temple as his fingers slid beneath your hoodie to rest on bare, warm skin.

The shift in mood was sudden, but not unwelcome.

You felt him exhale, felt the softening in his touch.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice quieter now.

You nodded, breath still shaky, and he tilted your chin up, making you look at him.

“You sure?”

Your heart clenched.

Because for all his teasing, for all the smugness and the cocky grins, this was Lando too.

Gentle. Attentive. Yours.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He hummed, tucking you into his arms, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over your back.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, warm, safe.

After a few minutes, he chuckled. “Still gonna keep that blog up, or should I expect a rebrand?”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “Oh my god, stop.”

Lando laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you melted, because, yeah—maybe you had written about him ruining you.

But you never expected him to put you back together too.

Lando’s hands tightened on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make you shiver.

“You hit me, love. That’s not very nice.”

You rolled your eyes, fully aware of the way he was still pinning you down, his body heat seeping into every inch of you.

“Maybe if you stopped talking—”

Your breath hitched as Lando dipped his head, his lips trailing lower, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your jaw, your neck, your collarbone.

God.

Your hands fisted in his hoodie, trying to ground yourself, but he was everywhere—hot and solid and deliberate.

“I like when you get all flustered, you know that?” he murmured against your skin.

Your only response was a sharp inhale, your fingers tugging at the fabric of his hoodie, wanting it gone.

Lando chuckled, low and wrecked, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin below your ear.

“Impatient.”

You huffed, trying to push him off, but he just grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the couch, his weight pressing firmly against you.

“Lando.”

His name came out breathless, more like a plea than a warning, and his eyes darkened instantly.

“Say it again.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat in his gaze, the way his pupils had blown wide, his usual bright blue eyes now stormy and intense.

“Lando.”

This time, you barely got the word out before he kissed you again, deeper, hungrier, like he was claiming you.

Like he didn’t just want you in this moment— he wanted every single part of you.

Your hoodie was pushed up, his hands finally roaming freely, his palms warm against your bare skin, mapping out every inch of you like he never wanted to forget.

Your head tilted back, your legs tightening around his waist, and Lando just smirked, dragging his lips lower, lower, lower—

And then—

A loud ping echoed through the room.

Lando froze.

You froze.

His head dropped against your chest with a groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your phone.

A notification.

And, judging by the guilty look on your face, Lando already knew.

He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes, lips glistening and smug as he looked at you.

“Is that another Tumblr update?”

Your entire body burned.

You grabbed a pillow, smacking him in the face before scrambling off the couch.

“I hate you.”

Lando just laughed, completely unbothered, his arms snaking around your waist before you could escape.

“No, you don’t.”

And, to your absolute horror, he reached for your phone, grinning devilishly as he scrolled through your notifications.

“Oh, love—look at that. Another comment asking for a spicy update. Should I help you with some inspiration?”

You shrieked, grabbing your phone back, shoving him playfully away as he just grinned at you like a menace.

And even as you glared at him, breath still uneven, body still buzzing, you knew one thing for certain—

You’d never, ever run out of things to write about.

Lando was still grinning, still so smug, still looking at you like he had all the time in the world to ruin you completely.

And, god, you wanted to let him.

You shoved your phone under a pillow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re the worst.”

Lando tilted his head, eyes dragging over you, from your flushed cheeks to your hoodie, which was still bunched upfrom where his hands had been.

And then—he smirked. The smirk. The one that made you weak every single time.

“Am I?” He took one slow step forward.

Your breath hitched.

“You sure about that?” Another step.

You should back up.

You should run.

But you didn’t.

Lando just watched you, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “Because I think, sweetheart, you actually like it.”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire.

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already there, closing the space between you, his hands gripping your hips, tugging you against him.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

You couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t.

You were absolutely, completely, utterly gone for him.

Lando chuckled, pressing a slow, teasing kiss just below your ear, his fingers tugging at the hem of your hoodie.

“Take this off.”

You froze, your heart slamming into your ribs.

He must’ve felt your hesitation because he pulled back slightly, eyes softer now, searching yours.

“Only if you want to, baby.”

Baby.

You nearly melted right there.

You swallowed, gripping his hoodie instead, tugging him closer. “I want to.”

Lando exhaled slowly, like he was holding himself back, his hands sliding up beneath the fabric, his fingers tracing fire along your skin.

“Then let me.”

He tugged it over your head in one smooth motion, and then—

His eyes.

Dark. Hungry. Completely locked onto you.

“Fuck.”

Your stomach tightened, heat rushing through you because he wasn’t just looking—he was memorizing you.

Like you were something he never wanted to forget.

And then, he was on you again, his hands gripping your waist, his lips crashing against yours, deeper, more desperate.

Like he was making up for lost time.

You barely registered being backed up against the couch before Lando’s hands were everywhere, sliding down your thighs, your hips, his fingers pressing, teasing, taking his time.

Your breath hitched as his lips trailed lower, down your jaw, your collarbone, the slope of your shoulder.

“Lando.”

He groaned against your skin. “Say it again.”

You did. Over and over again.

And when he finally pulled back, his lips swollen, his curls a mess, his hands still gripping your thighs like he couldn’t bear to let go—

He grinned, panting, eyes still blown wide with heat.

“Gonna write about that, too?”

You laughed, smacking his chest before pulling him back in.

Because, yeah—maybe you would.

But for now?

You had way better things to do.

Lando was everywhere.

His hands, his lips, his body pressed against yours, like he was claiming you, like he was making sure you’d never think about anyone else the way you thought about him.

Like he was making up for every single fic you’d ever written about him— and proving he could be so much better.

His breath was hot against your skin, his hands slipping under the waistband of your shorts, fingers trailing lower, lower—

“Lando—”

He groaned, the sound gravelly, desperate, like he was just as wrecked as you were.

“Say my name like that again, and I swear—” His voice was low, dark, full of something that made your knees weak.

You trembled, clutching at his hoodie. “Lando.”

He growled. Actually growled.

And then—

Your back hit the couch, your legs parted, and he was above you, between you, everywhere.

His mouth was on your neck, your collarbone, your chest, his hands gripping your thighs, sliding them higher around his waist.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His breath was ragged, his hands tight on you, like he was barely holding it together.

You felt feverish, your skin burning, your pulse racing, your entire body aching for more.

His lips brushed your ear, voice wrecked.

“Tell me what you want.”

You whimpered, arching into him. “You.”

Lando exhaled sharply, his forehead dropping to yours. “Yeah? You want me to ruin you, baby?”

“Yes.”

His lips curved into a smirk.

And then—

He did.

Lando's eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your hips as he pressed firmly against you, letting you feel just how much he wanted this—wanted you.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your jaw, down your throat,leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his curls, tugging just enough to make him groan against your skin. God, that sound.

His hands slid lower, gripping your thighs, spreading you open beneath him. His touch was teasing, torturous, deliberate.

"Lando—"

He smirked, because he knew. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Patience, love.”

Patience? Fuck patience.

You arched up into him, pressing your body flush against his, and his breath hitched, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Needy little thing, aren't you?" he teased, but his voice was hoarse, like he was barely holding himself together.

"Shut up and touch me."

He chuckled, low and dangerous. "You want me to touch you, sweetheart?"

"Yes."

"Where?" His fingers skimmed the edge of your shorts, barely there, taunting.

"Everywhere."

Lando swore under his breath, his control snapping like a frayed wire.

And then he was kissing you again—deep, desperate, all-consuming.

His hands slid under your hoodie, tugging it over your head, his lips barely leaving yours for a second before they were back, claiming, devouring.

He pressed his hips into yours, and the friction made your head spin.

"Feel that?" he breathed against your lips. "That’s what you do to me."

You whimpered, your nails raking down his back, pulling him closer, needing more.

"Lando, please—"

He groaned, his forehead dropping to yours. "Jesus, you're gonna be the death of me."

And then—

His hands. His mouth. His body against yours.

And nothing else in the world mattered.

Lando’s lips were still pressed to your neck, the heat of his breath making your skin burn. You could feel the weight of him above you, his chest rising and falling with every labored breath, his body just inches from yours, and the way his hands moved gently, almost hesitantly, as if asking for permission to get closer.

You didn’t stop him.

His fingertips grazed along your skin, light and teasing, before finally, slowly, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You shivered, gasping as his touch lingered, so close but not quite touching what you needed.

His lips moved back to your ear, voice low and dangerous. "Tell me you want this," he whispered, the words laced with so much desire that it sent a wave of heat through your body. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you."

You swallowed, fighting the urge to pull him closer, but you couldn’t find the words at first. The tension was thick, hanging between you like a promise waiting to be broken.

Finally, you could barely breathe as you whispered back, voice barely audible. "I want you."

And that was all it took.

Lando’s lips crashed down on yours, desperate now, like he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hands pulled at your pants, quickly, almost too quickly, and in a rush of movement, you were completely exposed to him, the cool air of the room hitting your skin as his body pressed you into the sheets.

He hovered over you for a moment, pausing, his eyes locking with yours. "Are you sure?" His voice was rough, like he was barely holding onto his control.

You could barely speak, but you nodded, reaching for him, pulling him in, desperate to close the distance between you two.

"Then let’s not waste any more time."

And then, there was no stopping him.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Lando’s chest vibrated with laughter, and you could feel it everywhere—his warmth pressed against you, the rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek.

You huffed dramatically. “I’m deleting my blog.”

Lando gasped, mock-offended. “You’d do that to all your fans? To all the people who live for your thirst posts about me? That’s cruel, love.”

You groaned, trying to shove his grinning face away, but he only held you tighter, rolling you onto your back so he could hover over you again.

His curls were a mess, his lips kiss-swollen, and the way he was looking at you—like you were his favorite thing in the world—made your breath hitch.

“You really read all of them?” you murmured, your fingers tracing absentminded circles on his bicep.

Lando smirked, but this time, it was softer. “Course I did. Had to know what I was up against.”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

He let out a small breath, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You write about me like I’m some kind of dream, you know? Like I’m untouchable. But I’ve been right here, loving you the whole time.”

Your heart stopped.

Lando had always been flirty, always been the one to push your buttons, but this? This was different.

This was real.

Your fingers tightened around his arm, your voice barely above a whisper. “Lando…”

He smiled, leaning down, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I mean it, love. You’re not just some girl writing about me on the internet. You’re my girl.”

Something in your chest cracked open, something tender and terrifying all at once.

You reached up, pulling him down, your lips meeting his with more emotion than you could put into words.

Lando sighed into you, his hands sliding down your waist, his body pressing closer, deeper, warmer.

And suddenly, your blog posts didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.

Because Lando Norris was the kind of man to ruin you in the best possible way— and put you back together all over again.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

You were wrapped up in his hoodie, sitting on the couch, laptop balanced on your legs, as you stared at your dashboard.

Lando walked in, fresh out of the shower, a towel slung over his shoulders, hair still damp.

“Oh no.” His voice was teasing, amused. “Are you writing about me again?”

You glared playfully, closing the screen. “Absolutely not.”

He grinned, plopping down next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“What if I wanna read the next chapter?” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your jaw, your neck, your shoulder.

You shivered, tilting your head slightly. “What if I just live it instead?”

Lando hummed, satisfied, his fingers curling into your hoodie, pulling you closer.

“Best story I’ve ever been a part of, love.”

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

[miakat9]

FAVS 4 LANDO NORRIS 12.0

Some of my favorite stories, writers you are amazing

BREAK UP ANNIVERSARY 𝙿𝚒𝚝 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚕 your quiet love Racing Hearts and Tiny Hands Little Racer 𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐-𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 peace best friends Candid Love BETTER THAN THE NOVELS While F1 Was Away 0.04 seconds You Should’ve Told Me First Day of School Midnight Rivalry Just Friends (Until We Weren’t) that type of dad Caught in 4K Lando as a Streamer BIRTH OF TWINS Milo is Lowkey Jealous & Protects Daddy Like a Boss when it hits my lando curly maintenance mystery man

we were drunk it happens part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / collection: 1

[miakat9]

cold coffee ⛐ 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏

“best thing about your hometown?” “apparently it’s the coffee. i don’t drink coffee so i don’t know. for me, it’s just that it’s home.”

ꔮ starring: oscar piastri x café owner!reader. ꔮ word count: 4.8k. ꔮ includes: romance, friendship, fluff. mentions of food. set in melbourne, spans a couple of years (alleged slowburn), oscar pines!!! so much!!!, cameos from oscar's sisters. ꔮ commentary box: lots of love all around i.e. contract renewal + home race. had to do it to 'em. inspired by this video, where two of my friends immediately demanded to see a barista!reader. did a bit of a spin on it, but the concept is intact! ☕ 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

♫ cold coffee, ed sheeran. something, somehow, someday, role model. i'd have to think about it, leith ross. time, angelo de augustine. keep the rain, searows. the view between villages, noah kahan.

It starts with Hattie.

Oscar’s younger sister had spent the morning badgering him, pleading in the way only a sibling with endless energy and zero regard for his sanity could. She’d tugged on his sleeve, whining about the new café down the street, her eyes wide with manufactured innocence.

“We’ve been home for two weeks, and you haven’t done anything fun,” she’d accused, arms crossed as she blocked his way to the fridge. “Come with me. Pleeease?”

Which is why, against his better judgment, Oscar is now standing in line at a café that smells overwhelmingly like roasted coffee beans and vanilla. He eyes the display of pastries, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, and tries to ignore the way his hair sticks to his forehead from the walk over.

“You should get something,” Hattie says, nudging his side.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, as if this is a personal insult. “They have other stuff. You could try tea. Or a hot chocolate. Or—”

“Next!”

Oscar looks up, and that’s when he sees you.

You’re behind the counter, all smiles and easy confidence, a pencil tucked behind your ear. The apron you wear is a little big on you, the straps tied in a messy bow at the back. There’s a small streak of flour on your cheek and you lean onto the counter like you’re genuinely excited to take their order.

“What can I get for you guys?”

Hattie launches into her order with the determination of a girl on a mission, listing out her exact specifications for an iced mocha with extra whipped cream. You write everything down with a nod, your fingers deftly clicking buttons on the register.

“And for you?” you ask, turning to Oscar with the kind of warmth that makes his skin prickle.

“I, uh—” he clears his throat, resisting the urge to look away. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“That’s okay,” you say, like it actually is. “We’ve got some pretty good non-coffee options. Do you like chocolate? Or maybe something fruity?”

Your kindness is standard Melbourne hospitality, he tells himself. It’s not personal. 

But there’s a lightness to the way you speak to him, patient and unbothered, that makes something unfamiliar stir in his chest. “Fruit tea’s fine,” he says, trying not to sound as awkward as he feels.

You smile, really smile, like he’s made the best choice in the world. “One fruit tea, coming up.”

And just like that, it’s done.

Hattie drags him to a table by the window, her enthusiasm buzzing loud enough to fill the entire space. Oscar watches as you move behind the counter, steaming milk and melting chocolate, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’ll let Hattie convince him to come back tomorrow.

You carry their drinks to the table with practiced ease, setting them down carefully to avoid any spills. Hattie beams as you place her elaborate drink in front of her. Oscar watches quietly as you slide his drink toward him— a peach iced tea, condensation already gathering on the glass.

“Enjoy,” you say with that same warm smile.

Oscar mutters a thanks, wrapping his hands around the cold glass. He takes a sip, the sweetness clinging to his tongue, and casts a glance at the door. 

He could leave. They’ve got their drinks, Hattie’s satisfied, and his obligation is technically fulfilled.

But he doesn’t move.

Instead, he sits back in his chair, sipping at his tea like he’s got all the time in the world. Hattie chatters about her netball games and how she’s trying to convince their parents to get a puppy, but Oscar only half-listens, eyes flicking up every now and then to watch you.

Maybe he should buy something else. 

A snack, maybe. 

For Hattie, obviously.

Or he could offer to take Hattie’s cup back to the counter when she’s done. (Except the café has self-service return trays, and he’d already clocked that the second they sat down.) 

He hates how obvious he’s being. And he hates even more how he doesn’t seem to care.

Eventually, you circle back to their table, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“Hey,” you say, leaning slightly against the chair next to Hattie’s. “Everything alright? Drinks okay?”

Oscar nods wordlessly, swallowing his drink. It tastes a bit too sugary now.

“It’s so good,” Hattie gushes, kicking her legs under the table. “I’m gonna make mum bring me back next weekend!”

Your eyes brighten. “That’s great. We’ve only been open a few weeks, so we’re still figuring stuff out. The owner’s a nice guy, but he’s old school. Doesn’t know how to use the cash register half the time.”

Oscar finally speaks, his voice scratchy as if he’s forgotten how to use it. “You work here by yourself?”

“Most days,” you admit, shrugging. “He’s got grandkids, so sometimes he dips out early to see them. But I don’t mind. It’s just part-time, and I live nearby.”

Oscar processes this slowly, like if he takes long enough, the conversation won’t end.

“How old are you?” Hattie asks, her bluntness making Oscar cringe.

You don’t seem to mind, though. You laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Fifteen. I’m starting Year 10 next term.”

Oscar blinks. The fact that you’re the same age as him shouldn’t feel as significant as it does, but it lands like a surprise punch to the gut.

“I’m fourteen,” Hattie announces proudly.

"That’s a fun age," you tell her kindly; she looks at you like you’re the coolest person in the world, and Oscar is half-inclined to agree. 

Then you glance at Oscar, head tilting. “What about you? You go to school around here?”

He shifts in his seat, rubbing at the condensation ring his glass left on the table. “Boarding school,” he says curtly. “Just home for the summer.”

“Ah,” you say, like that explains something.

Hattie pipes up again, because of course she does. “He races cars,” she declares. “He’s, like, really good.”

Oscar feels his face heat. He glares at Hattie, who just grins, already licking melted whipped cream off her finger.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s awesome,” you say, and you don’t sound condescending or anything. You sound genuinely awed, and Oscar fears he’s going to replay it in his head the entire night. 

“We should go,” he says abruptly, pushing back from the table.

“What?” Hattie pouts. “But I want a pastry!”

“We can get one,” Oscar promises through gritted teeth, standing and grabbing her empty cup so fast the ceramic clinks loudly against the saucer. He forces himself to slow down, his fingers a little shaky. “Next time.”

Hattie hops out of her seat, already skipping toward the door. Oscar follows, grateful for the escape, but you call out before he makes it too far.

“I hope you do come back,” you say, smiling again. This time, it feels like it’s just for him. The words, the smile, the look. 

Oscar nods stiffly, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie.

He doesn’t know if he will. But, as he lingers on the way out, he wonders how many summers he has left— and how many excuses he can make before you start to notice.

Inevitably, his appearances at the café become almost routine.

It starts small: once a week, maybe twice, a stop by for a drink he doesn’t actually want. But Hattie catches on fast, and soon she’s dragging Edie and Mae along too, the three of them whispering and snickering at a volume they absolutely think is subtle.

“I like the pastries,” he claims when Edie wiggles her eyebrows at him.

“Sure,” Mae chirps, swinging her feet as she dangles them off her chair. “Totally the pastries. Not the barista who always makes your drink herself even when there’s someone else on shift.”

Oscar gives her a withering look, but she remains undeterred, biting into her muffin with the smugness of someone who knows she’s right.

He denies it. Again and again. Because he doesn’t know what to do with the idea of having a crush, let alone on you. He’s already awkward enough on his own, and he refuses to fuel his sisters’ relentless teasing.

But then he comes in one day— alone, this time— and you’re not there.

Oscar knows he shouldn’t care. It’s not like you promised to be here. And yet, disappointment settles heavy in his chest.

The barista on shift is nice enough, but Oscar barely listens as he orders. He can’t even remember what he picked when he sits down, staring at the drink like it personally offended him.

The café feels quieter without you buzzing around, chatting with regulars and teasing old Mr. Callahan about his crossword puzzles. The emptiness gnaws at him, and he knows he looks so obvious, sulking into his untouched drink.

He tells himself he’ll leave after finishing it. He lingers for an hour.

Oscar doesn’t look back at the café as he leaves, but he feels its absence like a dull ache. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, chin tucked to his chest as he stalks down the street. 

He tells himself it’t stupid to feel this way. He doesn’t even know you. He definitely shouldn’t care if you’re there or not. 

And yet.

Fine. 

It’s over. He’ll get over it. 

He’ll spend the school term back at boarding school, surrounded by motorsport and homework and people who don’t know how to steam milk into a heart shape. 

It’ll be better this way.

At least that’s the plan.

He’s halfway home when he nearly collides with you on the footpath.

“Oh! Oscar, right?” you say, blinking up at him like he’s an unexpected surprise.

He freezes. “Um.”

“You left in a hurry. Not a fan of the other barista?” You tilt your head, a teasing smile tugging at your mouth.

Oscar feels like he might short-circuit. “I— I just noticed you weren’t there,” he blurts out, horrified as the words tumble out without permission.

Your smile grows. “Noticed, huh?”

“I mean—” He’s desperate to backtrack, but it’s useless. The damage is done. You’re grinning, and he can already imagine the relentless teasing he’d get if his sisters caught wind of this.

“You’re heading home?” you ask, mercifully letting him off the hook.

“Yeah,” he mutters, already planning to walk faster. Maybe he’ll get away with half-jogging the entire way. 

“Big plans for your last day of summer?”

He squints at you. “How’d you know it’s my last day?”

You tap your temple. “I’m observant.”

“Or you got it out of Hattie.”

“Maybe,” you say, shameless. Then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world: “Wanna grab a bite at Albert Park?”

Oscar blinks. “What?”

“There’s a food truck that sells the best fish and chips,” you explain. “It’s not too far. C’mon, it’s your last day home.”

“I—” He should say no. He was just lecturing himself on the walk back. 

But you’re looking at him like it’s not a big deal, like you’re not aware of the internal war waging in his head, and Oscar’s resolve crumples like paper.

“Okay,” he hears himself say, voice tight.

You beam. “Cool.”

Oscar follows you to Albert Park, his heart thudding with every step. He wonders if he’ll ever forgive himself for agreeing to this. Or if, maybe, it’ll turn out to be the best mistake he’s ever made.

The fish and chips are at least good. Better than good, actually, and Oscar begrudgingly tells you so between bites, like the admission costs him something. 

He tries to be subtle about how much he likes it, chewing carefully, but you notice anyway, your grin bright and uncontainable.

“Told you,” you say smugly, elbow propped on the table as you pick at your fries. “You doubted me, didn’t you?”

“I don’t usually trust people who enjoy serving coffee for a living,” he deadpans.

You laugh, and the sound rattles through him like a loose bolt. “Fair,” you concede. “But I’m right about most things, so you should get used to it.”

Oscar snorts but doesn’t argue. He’s happy enough to let you fill the gaps in conversation, listening as you ramble about everything from the café’s horrible playlist to how the Albert Park sunset is always a little better in the summer. 

He only nods and hums, content to let your words fill the space between bites.

But then you flip the script.

“So,” you start, resting your chin on your hand. “When do you start boarding school again?”

“Monday.”

You make a face. “Brutal.”

Oscar shrugs. “It’s not that bad.”

“Sure,” you say, dubious. “And racing? How’s that going?”

His fingers pause around a chip. “You remember I race?”

“I’m not some ditzy barista, you know.” You tilt your head, like you’re studying him. “I know you kart. Or, karted?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I moved up to junior formulae this year.”

Your eyes widen. “That’s huge, right?”

“I guess.”

You nudge his foot under the table. “Don’t be modest. It’s cool.”

He looks away, that telltale heat prickling at his collar again. “It’s not, like, F1 or anything.”

“Yet,” you point out.

Oscar smiles, small and self-conscious. “That’s the goal, I guess.”

“You guess?” You feign offense, sitting up straighter. “You guess? Come on. Say it with your chest.”

He laughs, shaking his head. Then, a little louder, a little firmer, “I want to drive in F1.”

“See?” you say, satisfied. “Not so hard, was it?”

Oscar’s throat tightens around the next bite. It is hard— saying it out loud. It makes the dream sound ridiculous, even when he knows exactly how much he’s giving up to chase it.

It makes it sound real. 

But you don’t tease him. You only smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“That’s awesome,” you say. “Can I have your number?”

Oscar nearly chokes. “What?”

“Your number,” you repeat, leaning back with an easy grin. “Would be cool to have a future F1 driver on speed dial.”

He huffs out a laugh, assuming you’re joking. You must be joking. People don’t ask for his number.

Oscar doesn’t give it to you, brushing it off like it’s nothing, and you don’t press. The two of you linger at Albert Park until the sky blushes purple, talking until Oscar’s curfew has him bidding you goodbye. 

It’s only when he’s halfway home, kicking at loose gravel on the footpath, that it hits him like a freight train.

You might’ve actually been serious.

Oscar groans, dragging a hand down his face.

He never does figure out if you’d meant it. 

He reconciles with the fact that he’ll only see you in the summers and during off-seasons. It becomes a rhythm he slips into with practiced ease, like shifting gears without thinking.

His sisters’ teasing remains relentless, but he endures it because they’re right— he can’t seem to stay away from the café. 

It’s a quiet sort of comfort, walking in and hearing your voice floating through the space, catching snippets of your conversations with regulars before you inevitably drift his way.

He contemplates asking for your number or your socials more times than he can count, always catching himself at the last second. The thought lingers like an engine idling, never quite stalling out but never revving forward either. 

He tells himself it’s fine. The café is your domain, a fixed point in the chaos of his ever-moving life. 

It’s fine. It’s enough. It has to be. 

In the break before he transitions into Formula Two, you place his usual non-coffee drink on the counter with a different sort of grin.

“You’re looking at the new owner of this place,” you announce, voice light with amusement. “The old man decided to go on a lifelong cruise. Said he wants to see the world while he still can.”

Oscar blinks. “He gave you the café?”

“Left it in my name. He figured I’d been running it anyway, might as well make it official.” You tilt your head. “What about you? I saw the news — Formula Two, huh? That’s huge.”

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s... a step closer.”

You lean against the counter, eyes warm. “Congrats, Piastri. Guess we both got what we wanted.”

He smiles and mumbles a quiet “Congrats to you too,” but as he takes his drink and watches you serve other customers, he’s not sure how true that statement is. 

Because he thinks about how your name is tied to this café now, how you belong to this little pocket of Melbourne while he chases circuits around the world. 

And he wonders— for the first time, with startling clarity— if what he wants might not be as far from this place as he thought.

Oscar doesn’t have time to dwell on it. 

That’s what he tells himself, anyway. He’s too busy. Too preoccupied with the whirlwind of signing with McLaren, of finally reaching the dream he’s been chasing since he first wrapped his fingers around a steering wheel. 

He celebrates with his family, his sisters loudly teasing him, his parents beaming with pride. It should be enough.

But then he finds himself at the café, hovering by the entrance, fingers curled around the door handle.

The bell jingles when he steps inside, sharp against the hum of the espresso machine. You glance up from wiping down the counter, eyebrows raising in surprise.

“We’re closed in ten,” you call out, drying your hands on a dish towel.

Oscar nods, shutting the door behind him. The sleeves of his hoodie are shoved up to his elbows, hair mussed like he’s been running his fingers through it. His heart is pounding, and he tells himself it’s just leftover adrenaline from the day’s excitement.

“I know. I just—” He falters, mouth opening and closing before he finally blurts out, “I got signed. With McLaren.”

You blink, then toss the dish towel onto the counter.

“Wait, what?”

He barely gets a nod in before you’re circling out from behind the counter, barreling into him with enough force to make him stumble back a step. Oscar stiffens at first, arms hovering awkwardly around you— then he exhales, tension seeping from his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you in return.

“Holy crap,” you say, squeezing him tight. “You did it. Oscar Piastri, you’re a Formula One driver.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, like he’s still trying to believe it himself. His voice is quieter when he adds, “I wanted to tell you in person.”

You pull back, beaming up at him. “I’m so proud of you. Seriously. I can’t wait to see you race.”

His heart thuds against his ribs, too loud, too fast. He drops his arms when you do, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

His face feels hot, but you don’t seem to notice, already launching into a ramble about how you’re going to make the café play the races on the TV in the corner.

Oscar watches you talk, nodding along, though he can’t really process your words. All he can think about is the way your smile had split your face, how easily you’d hugged him, how your arms had fit around him like you belonged there.

He leaves that night more certain than ever.

This crush isn’t going anywhere.

Oscar privately decides he’ll use the feelings to his advantage. A secret, unspoken fuel source. It becomes most obvious at his first-ever home race.

The roar of the crowd fades into static beneath the hum of his engine, but he knows they’re there. Knows the grandstands are packed with fans waving papaya flags, knows somewhere among them are his parents and sisters— and maybe you.

He pretends you are. Imagines you leaning forward in your seat, hands cupped around your mouth as you cheer. He thinks about how you’d probably tease him later if he botched his first home race, how you might promise him a pity pastry from the café if he placed last.

That thought alone keeps his foot steady on the throttle.

He crosses the finish line in eighth, his first points in Formula One. The team is ecstatic, patting his back and ruffling his hair until he can barely breathe through the congratulations. 

Later, at the house, the celebration is in full swing. His family is buzzing with excitement, and the living room is littered with leftover food and streamers. Still, Oscar keeps glancing at the door, brow furrowed. 

He tells himself the weight in his chest is only exhaustion, not the ridiculous, misplaced disappointment that you aren’t at the post-race party.

“What’s your problem?” Edie asks, plopping onto the couch next to him.

He shrugs, pretending to focus on the race replay flashing on the TV. “Nothing. Just tired.”

Edie snorts. “Yeah, sure. You’ve been looking at the door like a lost puppy. Thought you’d finally get your act together and invite your favorite barista?”

Oscar flushes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” Edie smirks, then gestures toward the kitchen. “They sent stuff, by the way. Practically wiped out their stock.”

He blinks, heart thudding as he follows hsi sister into the kitchen. The counter is packed with pastries and drinks, each one carefully labeled. A small, folded note sits on top of the pile, your handwriting unmistakable.

For future world champion OP81. I’ll save a spot on the TV for your podium finish.

Oscar stares at the note for a beat too long, then flips it shut, like that’ll stop the embarrassing warmth spreading through him.

He’s suddenly, overwhelmingly glad you’re not there, because he might’ve done something incredibly stupid. Like kissed you.

Or worse— asked you to keep a spot open forever.

Oscar’s schedule is relentless, though. An endless cycle of races, travel, media obligations. He still makes it back home when he can, even if it’s just for a few days. The café becomes a pit stop as routine as visiting his parents.

He never stays long, though. He catches glimpses of you between customers, exchanges pleasantries, hears about you secondhand through his sisters’ chatter.

Edie mentions you started taking a business course. Hattie swears you went on a date (Oscar pretends he doesn't care). Mae tells him you got a new coffee machine.

But it’s never from you.

Until one evening, when he swings by the café, and you ask him to stay until closing.

His heart lodges itself in his throat.

The café empties out, and Oscar helps you stack chairs and wipe tables. His fingers jitter against the rag, adrenaline buzzing under his skin like he’s on the starting grid. He wonders how he’ll respond when you confess, how to let you down gently when he inevitably leaves for another race weekend. 

(He also can’t stop imagining what it would be like to kiss you.)

When you finally sit him down, your words knock the air out of his lungs.

“The café might close,” you say, tone steadier than your hands wringing your apron in your lap. “Rent’s gone up, and I just... I don’t know if I can keep up."

Oscar stares, words dissolving before they can form. He thinks about the old man who first owned the place, about you proudly taking over. He thinks about all the hours he’s spent lingering here, all the drinks you’ve made him, all the moments he’s stolen just to see you.

The idea of it all disappearing feels like a punch to the chest.

“I just thought you should know,” you continue, voice quieter now. “You've been coming here for years, and— I don’t know, I guess I wanted to thank you for that. For being a loyal customer.” 

Oscar frowns. “I’m not just— I mean, yeah, I like the café, but…”

You smile, but it’s small, tired. “I know. But still. It means a lot. And hey, we had a good run, right?”

He hates the way you talk like it's already over.

Without thinking, he reaches across the table and covers your hand with his own. You flinch, just barely, before curling your fingers around his.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, like it’s something you should apologize for.

“Don’t be,” he says back. 

He doesn’t know what else to offer. And so he holds your hand, and the two of you sit in relative silence.

Oscar tries not to think of this being the last time he’ll get to do this. He resists the urge to study the weight of your hand, because then that would be admitting to a certain kind of preemptive loss. 

You close up shop, the two of you lingering outside the café under the glow of the streetlights, hands still linked. The night air is cool, the streets quiet, and it feels like you’re waiting for something.

Oscar doesn’t know what.

He racks his brain for words, for solutions, for something that might make you stay, but all he comes up with is static. The same helplessness he feels when a car failure knocks him out of a race.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze. “Good night, Oscar.”

“Good night,” he says, his fingers tightening around yours for a fraction of a second before he’s letting you go. 

He watches you walk away, the distance stretching between you like a rubber band about to snap. And— as usual— he doesn’t realize what to do or say until much, much later.

But he knows you’ll forgive him for this one.

It takes some convincing, some pulling of strings. In the end, he doesn’t know if he even manages it. Not until he’s back in Melbourne for the prix, and Lando is bringing him closer to the spot he’s tried to avoid all morning. 

“New caterer this year,” Lando says, peering at his phone. “Some local place. Looks sick.”

Oscar feigns interest, even as dread pools in his stomach.

He lasts all of twenty minutes before Lando physically drags him to the hospitality area. Oscar immediately clocks the familiar pastries, the neat line of carefully curated drinks— but it’s the sight of you, grinning behind the counter, that sends his pulse into overdrive.

“Oh, this is dangerous,” Lando jokes. “I might never leave.”

Oscar, meanwhile, contemplates leaving immediately.

You spot him mid-pour, your smile faltering. And Oscar knows he’s screwed.

The confrontation comes after Lando flits away, croissant in hand, leaving Oscar cornered by the espresso machine.

“You.” You jab a finger at his chest. “You did this.”

Oscar glances around him. The Netflix boom microphone is gracefully not around. No one from his team is, either.

He allows himself this small joy of bickering with you. “Technically, McLaren did this,” he says dryly. 

“Bullshit.” Your eyes narrow, but there’s no real venom. “You got me this gig so I could afford to keep the café, didn’t you?”

A corner of his lip twitches upward. “You’ve got no proof.”

You stare at him for a beat, then you let out an exasperated sigh. That smile of yours— the one that has ruined Oscar for everyone else— threatens to break on your face. “I could kiss you, you know,” you say, and he privately wishes you’d run him over with a car instead. 

You’re kidding. You sound like you’re kidding. But Oscar isn’t fifteen and stupid anymore. The only thing that hasn’t changed from back then is the way he feels for you, and it’s what has him finally giving in.

“How about I give you my number first?” he says. 

It takes you a moment. A full thirty seconds to realize what he’s getting at.

When it does hit you, though, you laugh. “A couple years late, Piastri,” you jab. 

Oscar dares to meet your eyes. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face— the way his heart is clenching in his chest. 

His voice is quieter when he says, “Please tell me you still want it.”

Your smile softens. 

He braces himself for a gentle denial, a spiel about friendship. Instead, he holds his breath as you fish for your phone. 

“Put it in before I change my mind,” you say, sliding it across the counter. Your coolness is betrayed by just the hint of giddiness in your tone, because you’ve wanted this for as long as he has, haven’t you? You hadn’t been kidding back then, and you still want this. 

Still want him. 

Oscar fumbles to type his number, adrenaline roaring louder than any engine. When he hands the phone back, your fingers brush his, lingering just a second too long.

“Good luck out there,” you tell him.

Oscar doesn’t feel like he needs any luck. 

Not when he finally, finally got the win that mattered most. ⛐

[miakat9]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 5

SUMMARY: In the aftermath of your outing with Lando, tensions are raised, worlds fall apart, and resistance gives way to what you’ve always truly wanted. 

WORD COUNT: 11.2k

WARNINGS: Lando is SO EVIL!! I’m sorry to all my Lando girlies. Mention of horrible family dynamics. Reader dissociates during sexual contact (could potentially be triggering). Slow burn yearning. Unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT PLEASE), oral and fingering (fem receiving), p in v. 

TAGLIST: @ at-a-rax-ia @henna006 @linnygirl09 @cassielikereading @judelina @supertrashbread @fastandcurious16 @widow-cevans  @czennieszn @irisesinthegarden @wierdflowerpower @sweetwh0re @reginalaufeyson-holmes @honethatty12 @suns3treading @obxstiles @mimiastroos @mrs-reeves-17 @milkysoop @amalialeclerc @starksztony @llando4norris @ginsengi @angxlzinthesky @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @makanirock05 @htpssgavi @lilypat @ameliaalvarez06 @scriptedinkbyxim

A/N: The long awaited chapter! For some reason this one was SUCH a struggle plus I had midterms and I got sick in the middle of writing it, so I’m just glad it’s done. I hope it’s still good though <3 I’m thinking probably one or two more chapters of this until it’s over, and then probably the Franco x Alpine social media manager au which will only be like 2 parts before I launch into my next series! A lot of exciting stuff planned. 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

The rooftop bar in Monaco was gorgeous, though not as beautiful as the view from your balcony back home. 

The air was full of soft chattering conversations, the sound of plates and champagne flutes clinking, and the purr of expensive engines down on the streets. The sounds of Monte-Carlo had become like background static to you at this point. 

Even the air was fragrant with expensive perfume and cologne, mixed with the sweet smells of dinner plates and the soft aroma of the bouquet of flowers that Lando had brought for you.

He had pulled out all the gentlemanly stops: flowers, a romantic dinner, and, as you could tell by the way his eyes snaked up and down your body, a night that would end up far beyond this stuffy Monaco restaurant. 

“You look amazing,” he said, leaning down to whisper in your ear as the waiter led you to your table. “Is all this for me?”

A few weeks ago and the comment would have you blushing, a playful smile on your lips. Now it just made your stomach churn. 

“I clean up nice,” you joked, sliding into your seat and turning your head away from Lando and towards the view.

“No kidding,” he said, leaning his hand across the table to touch yours. You froze, letting him do it. “I don’t know what’s the better view.”

“That was bad, even for you,” you laughed, hoping that the banter could calm your nerves. He began to softly rub his thumb up and down the side of your hand.

“You’re smiling, though.”

When the waiter came by to take your order, you were thankful for the excuse to pull back your hand, though you weren’t as nervous anymore. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. You missed being touched.

It wasn’t like Oscar ever held your hand anymore.

You could feel his presence, even though you knew he was back in your apartment doing…well, God knows what. 

“I was surprised you made it,” Lando said. “I thought for a second there, you were going to stand me up.”

“Really?”

“He’s not happy about you being here, is he?”

You pursed your lips. “You know how he is.”

“I do. And I really am glad you made it.”

All at once, it felt like you saw right through him. You heard what was unsaid. Lando wanted you to revel at the thought of disobeying Oscar, to spite him by being here.

The problem was, the only person that you wanted to spite by being here was yourself. 

“Why are you doing this, Lando?”

“Doing what?”

The waiter returned with your wine, and he tapped your glass to say cheers. It felt like a mockery. 

“You don’t like me.”

“Who said that?” He sipped at his drink, his eyes never leaving you. “Oscar? You think he’s the authority on how to treat a woman?”

“Well, I’m not a Portuguese model, for one,” you scoffed, taking a sip of your own drink. “But do you really think that it’s not entirely obvious what you’re doing?” 

He smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.” His smile, once like a bolt of lightning in your stomach, felt like a slap in the face. 

“You’re trying to drive me and Oscar apart.” You could hear Oscar’s own words coming out of your mouth.

“I’m trying to show you that you deserve better than him. And, besides, I don’t think I need to do much on that front. Oscar’s already fucked it up himself, hasn’t he?”

“He told me everything you said to Lily, and about me.”

“And yet, you’re still here, aren’t you?”

You used to think that you and Lando were on the same playing field, like two masters at a game of chess. Now you knew you were always just a pawn. 

“Why?” you echoed. “I know you don’t like me, you’re not really interested in me at all. So why are you doing this?”

Lando turned his head to gaze at the view, and you could see the cogs in his head churning, trying to figure out his next move. Maybe you had surprised him, after all. 

“Truthfully? I want Oscar to lose.”

“So is this, what, your attempt at psychological warfare?” you laughed. 

“You make it sound so harsh,” he said, his smile returning. “I’m just pointing out the truth.”

“The truth?”

“He used you, YN. Lily left him because he couldn’t be loyal. He fucked you for a couple weeks to get over it. Then he wants to talk about how much he loves you? He just doesn’t want to go to bed alone.”

“You’re one to talk. You have a new girl on your arm every night.”

“I don’t claim to be a gentleman.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “But you like that, don’t you?”

The waiter arrived with your food, and you were thankful for the space that it gave you. But even as you savored the admittedly great food, you couldn’t help but think that Lando might be right. 

It made your stomach churn, to think of a version of Oscar that didn’t love you. You wanted nothing more than to believe that confession he had made, in the heat of your argument, that he had truly been in love with you for years but had made mistake after mistake after—

“You’ve gone quiet,” Lando said.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

He knew the answer. You looked up to meet his eyes, his gaze fixed on you. He was just…sitting there, as if he hadn’t just opened your mind and destroyed everything you thought to be true in only a few sentences.

And all at once, you hated him. 

“What do you think he’s doing, back at your apartment?”

“Probably sleeping,” you answered, your voice gone quiet.

“If he really cared about you, would he be asleep right now?”

“He warned me—”

“I’m sure he did.”

“I’m grown. I made my own decision to come here. He can’t tell me what to do.”

Lando just hummed. “You must not trust him, then.”

“Of course I trust him,” you replied. That was a lie. You still struggled to trust him most days.

“Then why are you here, YN? You interrogated me, let me interrogate you.”

“I don’t know.” You fiddled with your fork, your appetite long gone. 

“Yes, you do.” Lando leaned in again and reached for your hand. “And so do I.”

“Then tell me.”

“You don’t trust Oscar. You were in love with him for years, and you were always there for him when no one else was. But he didn’t want you, he wanted Lily. He couldn’t get rid of you though, because he needed you there for when things inevitably went bad. And that’s exactly what happened, didn’t it? You were never his first choice. He used you.”

“That’s…that’s not what happened at all.” Tears were threatening to form in your eyes.

Lando just continued. “And you? Sweet girl, all you ever wanted was to be loved. You’re so used to being second choice. Even your parents didn’t want you.”

“No, that’s not—”

“That’s why Oscar’s mum took you in, right? She took pity on you. But Oscar could never be with the girl that his family pitied.”

You stared at him, incredulous. You were torn between slapping him or crying, or both. 

“How do you know any of this?” you said. 

“He told me.”

He went back to eating. You felt like you were going to throw up. 

Lando insisted on ordering dessert. When it arrived—whatever it was, your head was spinning a bit too much to be sure—he fed you bites of it, gently guiding the spoon to your mouth. You ate in silence.

“Contrary to what he might tell you, YN, I’m not a bad guy. I’m not a liar.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t lie. I don’t need to. I just tell people the messy truth that they don’t like to hear.”

“You don’t love me, though. You don’t even know me. You try to act like you’re so much better than Oscar, but you don’t love me either.”

The last word hung on your lips. Oscar loved you. He had to. But did he? Or was Lando right?

“You’re right, I haven’t known you as long as he has. But I see you.” He brought the spoon to your mouth for the final bite. 

I see you. No. It couldn’t be true.

“And,” he chuckled, “I guarantee I can fuck you better than he can.”

Lando gestured to the waiter to come back, and he paid the bill before walking you down to his car. 

“Wanna go for a ride?” 

You didn’t know why you got in that car. You didn’t know why you didn’t push his hand away when he rested it on your thigh as he drove through the narrow streets of Monte-Carlo. You didn’t know why you let him kiss you when he pushed you against the wall in the elevator, meeting your lips with a frenzied need. 

He led you into his apartment, where he wordlessly pushed you down on his bed. Your body was beneath him, but your mind was somewhere else. The balcony, back at your apartment, overlooking the water. You were sitting there with a cup of tea, and inside, Oscar was asleep in the early morning hours as you watched the sun rise.

You closed your eyes, hearing the rustle of fabric as Lando unbuttoned his shirt. You weren’t on the balcony anymore. You were in your childhood neighbourhood, across from Oscar’s house, driving your little motorized car.

Lando’s lips returned to your neck, his hands wandering all over you, reaching down the front of your dress. 

You were in Oscar’s childhood bedroom, looking into his eyes as he touched you for the first time. You were scared. So was he. But you trusted each other. 

Before Lando’s hand could go any further, you opened your eyes.

“Stop,” you said, your voice wavering.

Lando pulled back, “What?”

You looked around. At some point, your dress had come off. You were so far away from your mind that you didn’t remember. 

“I don’t want to do this,” you said. 

Lando made a face. “Really?” he asked, his voice annoyed.

“I want to go home.” You were on the edge of tears again.

“Okay,” he said, sitting up and handing you your dress.

You dressed quickly and gathered your things that had been thrown around the room. There was no apology, no attempt to talk about it, no fanfare. Just a simple okay and a clear expression of indifference. 

You booked it out of the apartment complex, desperate to get home. 

When you did, the sun was already down, and you thanked God that Monaco was so small. You opened the door quietly, hearing Oscar’s soft snores in your room.

Oscar. 

You sank in the bed next to his form, so warm and familiar, and he felt like home. Just the thought of it made you want to cry, but no tears found you. You felt numb.

You curled up next to him and scooted back to be as close to him as you could without waking him—at least, that’s what you wanted, to be held in silence, to forget any of this had ever happened. 

“YN?” he asked, his voice groggy. “What time is it?”

“Too fucking late,” you whispered. “Go back to bed.”

It was no use. He grabbed his phone on the nightstand, checked the time, and sighed. He laid back down next to you, but the soft scene had been shattered.

“You smell like him,” he said, the reverberations of his speech echoing against your skin.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled, trying to hold back tears.

“Shit, are you crying? Did he…?” Oscar propped himself up on his elbow, but you buried your head in your arms. 

“I made him stop,” you muttered. 

“I’ll fucking kill him.”

“No,” you said. “Just… hold me. Please.”

Oscar couldn’t argue with the quiet desperation in your voice, lowering himself finally to wrap his arm around you. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss to the back of your neck.

“How much longer are we going to do this?” he murmured against your skin. 

“I can go sleep on the couch, if you want,” you answered.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

You couldn’t face him, though you spoke anyway. “Is this beyond saving?” you asked.

“Us? No.”

“He said things…We were just going to get dinner. Even after I left, I didn’t really want to go. I don’t know why I kept ignoring my intuition, because I knew something was wrong.” The pillow beneath you was stained with tears.

You continued, “We mostly talked about you. I mean, we almost always talk about you. I can’t even remember what he said exactly, but he… he started talking about my parents.”

“Your parents?” Oscar echoed.

“Yeah. Saying that even they didn’t want me, that no one wanted me. It sounds so stupid when I say it aloud, but…it hurt. He said everyone just took pity on me and I’m always the second choice. Even to you. Or, I guess, especially to you.”

Oscar was silent at first, until he asked, “Do you really believe that?” 

“It’s hard not to.” 

“What more could I do, for you to believe that I love you?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” You reached down to where his arm rested around your middle and intertwined your fingers with his. “I don’t know.”

With nothing else to be said, you both drifted back to sleep. 

To your surprise, in the morning, Oscar didn’t bring up your conversation from the previous night. The next day was uneventful too. 

And as days turned to weeks, the best you could guess was that Oscar had…given up. 

It wasn’t like he had abandoned you. When he was in Monaco, neither of you sacrificed to take the couch anymore, spending each night entangled with the other. And on the road, everywhere from Spain to Silverstone, you somehow always made your way to his hotel room to spend the night. 

He hadn’t touched you, though. At least, not in the way you so desperately wanted—no, needed—nothing more than a careful arm around the middle, pulling you close to him at night, or the occasional peck on the back of the neck after a particularly bad race weekend. 

And Lando? Nothing. No calls, no texts, no flirty comments on the sly. It was as if you had never existed to him. You avoided him like the plague at races. And for the most part, he let you.

Well, for the most part.

Weeks later, you assumed your usual spot next to Oscar as he walked through the paddock, snapping photos of him through all the commotion. In these quiet moments, it was just you, your camera, and him; the rest of the world blurred into the background and all that mattered was capturing the perfect snapshot of this man you loved.

But no one could ignore the words of the commentators that flooded the ears of anyone who walked past the paddock.

“Well, we are gearing up for a Hungarian Grand Prix to remember! Only a year ago, who can forget how Oscar Piastri secured his first Grand Prix win here as a result of some controversial team orders? Now, it seems like controversy is still on the table as he battles with his teammate for the World Driver’s Championship…”

Oscar scowled.

“Ignore them,” you said, snapping a photo of his frown. “You’re gonna win, and you’re gonna do it right.”

“Hey, nothing’s wrong with papaya rules,” said a voice behind you. You spun to see Lando’s face, and your stomach sank.

“Just came by to wish my teammate good luck,” he said, putting on a fake smile for the commentators who watched above.

Oscar gave Lando an empty handshake, doing his best to keep his cool in front of all the journalists.

“Anyone with eyes can see that this championship battle has ruffled some feathers. These once friendly teammates are now ice cold, though they clearly have an admirable respect for each other despite it all…” The commentators droned on. 

“Oh, YN, by the way, you left your jacket at my house.” Lando said, turning his gaze to you.

“Keep it,” Oscar answered, protectively putting his hand on your shoulder. You leaned into the touch, feeling safe with him.

“I just figured YN can come by and grab it—”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting him off. 

Lando leaned in, and you felt Oscar’s grip on you tighten. “You really gonna let him tell you what to do?” he whispered.

“Let’s go, YN,” Oscar instructed, and you turned and left without a word.

The rest of the weekend was full of these same games. Lando approaching you innocuously, always in the most public of spaces, as if he didn’t know the nervousness that he inspired within you. He played the innocent role as if he believed it himself.

He even winked at you before he got into his car for qualifying. You wanted to puke.

Oscar didn’t get pole. Lando did. None of the other stats mattered. 

The two McLaren drivers were neck and neck, even getting ahead of Max Verstappen, who’s Redbull car had proved to be useless this season. Every point, every millisecond, mattered. And Lando was winning. 

You did your job as usual, taking photos as Oscar hopped out of the car and sulked his way into the garage. Your lunch threatened to reappear when you felt a familiar tap on your shoulder. 

“Hey, YN—”

You walked away, but he followed.

“YN!” Lando called, jogging after you. “Wait!”

“Go away, Lando.”

“Just give a second, will you?” 

You walked faster, insistent on making it to the now emptying McLaren garage. 

“YN, when am I going to see you again?”

“Never,” you answered, not even turning to look at him. You finally made it back to the garage, but you kept walking back into the hallways of drivers rooms. You were determined to make it back to Oscar, but your oasis was swiftly destroyed.

Lando grabbed your shoulder and pushed you back into a corner. Your face went pale, and all breath left your body.

“You sure about that?” he asked, a sickening smirk across his face.

“Leave me alone,” you whimpered.

He leaned in, whispering in your ear, and the touch made you squirm. “You left your jacket at my place in Monaco. Which means you need to come back and get it, yeah? Maybe spend the night…”

He was yanked away by your saving grace: Oscar.

“Get the fuck away from her! What is wrong with you?” he yelled, grabbing Lando by the collar of his race suit and pulling him off you. 

You took advantage of the space and ran off to Oscar’s driver room, terrified. You felt like you wanted to jump out of your skin. 

“If you don’t leave her alone—”

“What are you gonna do about it, huh?” Lando taunted. He huffed. 

“Just leave her alone,” Oscar repeated, breathless. What could he do about it, realistically? He let Lando go, dropping him into the wall.

“What do you even want?” Oscar asked, his voice shaking in anger. “You never wanted her in the first place. You just wanted to win, and you are. So why not leave her alone and be done with it?”

Lando smirked. “I am winning, huh?”

“Is that all you really care about?” Oscar asked. He lowered his voice, knowing you were hiding in his driver’s room, pressing your ear to the door to listen in. “If I…if I stop trying, will you leave her alone?”

“Stop trying?”

“If I give up the championship, will you promise to never go near YN again?”

Lando chuckled incredulously. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Oscar said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t know what it’s like to love someone that strongly.”

“This isn’t a shitty romcom, Oscar. If you don’t perform, you’ll get cut in an instant.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

Lando took a step towards Oscar. “Say I agree. What makes you think I’ll keep my word?”

“I’d just have to trust you,” Oscar said, his voice still low but firm and full of warning. 

“If you’re willing to give it up that easily, why are you here? What’s to stop me from ruining your entire career?” the Brit taunted. 

“Like I said,” Oscar explained, looking down on his teammate, “I love her. She’s worth it.”

“Not that much.”

“Yes, that much.”

Lando laughed. “You’ve gone soft. You’re no fun.”

“Do we have a deal?” Oscar asked.

Lando looked aside, weighing his options in his head. “Let me think on it.”

Both men knew the answer then and there. This wasn’t over. But if it kept Lando away from you for a while, Oscar would take your place in the back and forth. He could handle it. 

The short-lived peace made its way back to Oscar’s hotel room that night, where he wrapped an arm around you, as natural as turning the lights off and pulling the covers up to your chin. He held you close, relishing the feeling of your chest rising and falling under his arm that you interlocked with your own.

He closed his eyes, steadying his own breathing as he held you like his life depended on it.

“What did you say to Lando in the hallway?” you asked, your voice a scarce whisper in the dark room.

“Nothing,” Oscar answered. 

“I could hear you all talking. I just couldn’t make out the words.”

“Don’t worry about it. He won’t be bothering you anymore,” Oscar said, though he knew it was a lie. He ran his thumb up and down the smooth surface of your knuckles, soothing himself as much as you.

“You know, I got a job offer last week,” you said. Oscar stopped. His breath hitched. You continued, “Doing social media for some French fitness influencer. Seems like a pretty decent gig.”

“Are you going to take it?”

“I’m not sure. I’m waiting to hear back from some other positions.”

“And when you do?”

The question hung thick in the air. All talk of you leaving had fizzled out long ago, though you hadn’t stopped looking, still scared of that thought that lingered in the back of your mind, convincing you that you couldn’t trust the life that Oscar had carved out for you.

“I don’t know. It might do me some good to get away from all this.”

“You’d get lonely.”

You gave a small huff of a laugh. “I’d manage.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, pulling you closer. “I’d get lonely.”

“I’m sure you’d manage, too.”

“How’s the pay?”

“Not as good as Piastri incorporated,” you joked, a small across your face.

“That’s right,” he joked back. “Gotta pay my best worker well.”

“It’s not exactly the most professional environment, I must admit.”

‘Would you prefer a cubicle at the back of the paddock?”

You had missed this, the gentle banter that constituted your friendship with Oscar. It would be normal, were you not wrapped up in his arms right now.

You laughed at his joke, but Oscar continued, “Unfortunately, I can’t accept your resignation.”

“I don’t need you to.”

“You won’t get a good review out of me. I’ll tell everyone about your unprofessional behavior.” Oscar sat up, winking at you. “So close with the boss, hm?”

“You wish,” you taunted, grabbing a pillow and putting it between you and him.

“No!” he cried out, giggling as he grabbed the pillow and threw it across the room. You wrestled with the other bedding, grasping for layers and laughing in the mess you were swiftly creating.

But the moment ended too soon, as Oscar leaned over you and pinned you down, his chest heaving from the play fighting, his eyes locked on yours. Your gaze had darkened now, seeing his bare chest rising and falling above you, where all he had to do was reach down and bring his lips to yours for everything to change in an instant.

He pulled away, and you wanted to whimper. You imagined reaching up, slipping your fingers through the soft stands of his hair and pulling him back down to you, letting yourself get consumed by him once more.

And judging by the growing hardness pressing against your leg, he was imagining it too.

“I should go, erm, take a shower,” he said, breaking the moment before you could dwell on it any further. 

It didn’t matter. As you heard the water turn on and the rustling of his clothes, you wondered where Oscar’s hands must be wandering.

You could get up and walk into the bathroom, dropping your own clothes on the floor next to his. He could pin you against the wall of the shower and kiss up and down your neck, nipping into the sensitive skin, leaving dark marks to show the world that you’d always been his.

You took a deep breath. The shame came in waves. 

When Oscar got out of the shower, you were gone, having decided to spend the night in your own room for the first time in God knows how long. The bed was still warm, the covers still imprinted by your form.

He turned over and passed the night with a restless kind of sleep.

And yet, you turned up in the paddock the next morning as if nothing had happened. 

Oscar saw you from across the garage, and he let out a nervous breath seeing you chatting with one of the other photographers. You were here, safe. He didn’t like how anxious he was, not having you by his side at night and into the morning.

“Saw your girl show up alone this morning. You really trust me, huh?” Lando said, standing beside Oscar as they both weighed in for the Grand Prix.

“She’s grown. And so are you.”

“You really are a new man, aren’t you, Oscar? Love has changed you,” Lando said, patting Oscar on the back.

“Don’t push it.”

“But it’s so fun!” he said, smiling to himself. “I don’t think I’m gonna stop. Cause what are you gonna do about it?”

“Run you off the track,” Oscar said, his natural flatness giving the warning a cold chill.

“I’m sure you will,” Lando laughed.

Oscar hadn’t even planned to do it. But as he watched you out of the corner of his eye, he knew something had to be done. Lando was only keeping his distance, for now. 

When it came down to it, what could he do to protect you? Would he really have to give it all up?

He would. In an instant, only for you.

The thought raced in his mind as fast as the car he now sat himself into, preparing for the Grand Prix that would start any minute now. His eyes glanced at you, on the edge of the track, camera pointed towards him as usual. Yes, he’d do it for you. Only you. 

At the front of the pact, Lando turned to face you, knowing Oscar was in eyeshot. And he winked at you. Fucking winked, like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing, like everyone couldn’t see how the blood drained from your face and you awkwardly shuffled back to the McLaren garage just to be out of eyeshot of that man who had the nerve to treat you like a pawn in a game he didn’t even care to win. 

Oscar knew what he had to do. And when you heard the famous words in your ears just the same as all the countless race starts you’d seen—lights out and away we go!—he just prayed that you’d understand why he had to do it.

Oscar’s reflexes had never worked so fast as he booked it down the middle, the mere millisecond the lights went out. It was like his mind and body had split; he was moving by pure instinct, racing ahead towards his teammate who led the pack down the first straight. 

But even as he made his way to the front, he didn’t try to overtake. No, he wasn’t here to win. If Oscar was going down, Lando would go down with him. He turned and pushed his teammate off the track and into the barrier into the first turn.

It all happened so quickly that you couldn’t process it; the sound of rough metallic clashing, tires screeching, the crowd hushed as smoke and debris sprang into the air.

On one side, Oscar’s voice crackled through the radio. “I’m okay,” he assured. “Shit, I think I lost control of the steering…”

On the other, those who could hear Lando were not as soothed. “That fucker just ran me off the track! Did you see that? This is ridiculous!”

The garage was in a frenzy, mechanics scrambling to bring in both of the cars for repair after a rare double DNF. You knew the boys would be swept up in media interviews, calls to the stewards, and late meetings in the garage. It didn’t stop you from rushing forward with the crowd of everyone else, camera at the ready, snapping photos of Oscar as he ruffled his hair and began the walk of shame back to the garage. 

You still followed him back to his driver’s room, chasing the precious minutes before he’d be out of your grasp for the rest of the evening.

“Oscar!”

���I’m okay, YN,” he assured you, turning around to embrace you. His hands on your hips felt familiar, like home, like hope. He pressed his forehead to yours, exhaling as the adrenaline left him. 

“Are you really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m okay.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I lost control—”

“I’m not the FIA, Oscar.”

He chuckled. You continued, “I know better. You didn’t lose control of the steering. Why in God’s name would you run him off track?”

“I did what I had to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it, yeah?”

“Oscar—”

“Shh,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder now. “Stay in my room tonight? I don’t like you sleeping alone.”

You swallowed, scared of the acknowledgement of your closeness. “Oscar…”

“I have to get to the stewards. I’ll see you back at the hotel, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What the actual fuck was that?” The Brit’s voice reverberated through the tin walls of the meeting room, his anger palpable. 

“I lost—”

“Bullshit!”

“Lando, lower your voice,” Zak Brown commanded, leaning back in his chair at the head of the table. “Oscar, do you wanna walk us through what happened?”

Oscar resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not quite sure. I was trying to overtake, I lost control of the steering, then I spun out.”

“Well it looks like you ran into me,” Lando snided. “Or are you really that bad at controlling your own car?”

“Oscar wouldn’t run you off the track,” Zak interjected. “That’s not how we do things here.”

“Oh yeah, papaya rules?” Lando jeered, laughing to himself. “Yeah, right. Look at the footage. He rammed into me. The stewards will handle it.”

“Tensions are high right now, but let's not get carried away with allegations. Right now we need to focus on the team. You know Ferrari is catching up to us, and we still can’t eliminate Max.”

“Hard to do that when my own teammate is trying to run me into a fucking wall,” Lando muttered. 

“That’s enough,” Zak said, his voice unusually stern. “The mechanics are looking at the car, and the stewards are looking at the footage. If there’s a mechanical issue, they’ll find it. And if we have to take any penalties, we’ll deal with it. But all this infighting needs to stop. We all have the same goals here.”

“Do we?” Oscar asked, breaking his silence.

“Of course we do,” Zac said. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Oscar shrugged. “We both want to win. And some people are willing to do anything.” He looked up and locked eyes with Lando across the table. 

“We want to win,” Zac said, turning his head to both drivers. “We, as in, McLaren. But we don’t put one driver down to help the other win. You all know this. You both drive fair.”

“Of course,” Oscar said. Lando was seething, unable to keep up the charade for much longer. 

“I’ve got to get to the stewards. Stay here, both of you, and behave,” he warned, as if scolding children. But the second he closed the door behind him, Lando broke. 

“You fucked up, Piastri. You think he didn’t see right through that?”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care about winning anymore. I just want you to lose.”

Lando laughed. “I don’t buy that for one second.”

“You really think this is still about racing? You’re trying to destroy my entire life! You lied to Lily, you nearly killed me in Imola, and now you’re harassing YN. If you want to go low, I’ll go lower,” Oscar hissed. 

“You really don’t want to do that,” Lando said. “You think you’re beating me at my own game, but you haven’t seen anything.”

“Do your worst,” Oscar said, shrugging. “At this point, I don’t care. Because I know that more than anything else, you want to win. And if I go down, I’m bringing you down with me.”

By the time Oscar made it back to the hotel, you were nearly asleep. The day wore heavily on your shoulders, slumping you down into the bed with ease, though you wanted to be awake to talk to him when he got back.

You drifted in and out of consciousness, your breaths steadying as you heard his footsteps cross the floor softly in an effort not to wake you. 

“Osc…” you whispered, your voice hoarse from exhaustion. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” he responded. “I’ll be to bed in a minute, go back to sleep.”

“I wanted to see you,” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. The gesture was gentle and natural, as if the feeling of his lips on your skin wasn’t heavy with the weight of months of uncried tears and fears that still paralyzed you both. “Don’t worry about me. Get some rest.”

But his kiss, tender as it was, had sent a wave of warm electricity through you. Sleep was far from you now. Oscar crossed the room towards the bathroom, and again your thoughts drifted to darker places, remembering the solidity of his body against yours months ago. Your need for him was becoming indescribable. 

Why didn’t you just give in? He was right; you wanted each other, that was undeniable. What else could be done about it, besides letting the need take over, drowning in him until all you could breathe in was the warmth of his skin, the smell of his cologne, the gentle breaths he exhaled in the quiet dark of your love?

Still, you felt paralyzed. And when he came back into the room, clad in only his underwear, and snaked under the covers next to you, you couldn’t do it. In your mind, you crawled on top of him, steadying your hands on the slopes of his broad shoulders, and kissed him until you couldn’t breathe; in reality, you just turned to look at him, your eyes bold with a restrained wanting. 

“I told you to go back to sleep, YN,” he whispered, moving your hair out of your face to see you clearly. 

“Did you really run into him? Like, on purpose?”

“Are you wearing a wire?” Oscar joked, a small bunny-toothed grin stretching across his face.

“I’m hardly wearing anything,” you responded, ignoring the blush that rushed to your companion’s cheeks at the thought. “And neither are you. But seriously, why did you do that?”

You had left Oscar in a no-win situation: to acknowledge the enticing lack of clothing between you two, or the still muddled details of his crash. He chose the latter.

“I…did what I had to do. And he knows I’ll do it again.”

“You’re being cryptic,” you said. 

Oscar took a deep breath, contemplating whether or not to tell you. “I didn’t want it to get this far,” he began. “But after all the shit he put you through, I had to do something. When he followed you in the garage, I tried to talk to him. I thought if this is all just about winning, then if I let him win he’d leave us alone.”

“You…”

“I offered to give up, let him win. He wouldn’t agree to it.”

“Oscar!”

“What?” he asked.

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because you being safe is more important than any championship.”

“Don’t say that,” you scolded. “And don’t you dare give anything up for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is your dream. This is everything you’ve worked for.”

“What about your dreams, YN? What about everything you wanted that you gave up for me?”

“You were the only thing I ever wanted,” you whispered, as tears threatened to form in your eyes. “To be your friend, to be by your side when you win.”

“Well, you’re worth giving it up for.”

“No, don’t—”

“YN—”

You both sat up, and the space between you was infinitely small. Oscar looked to your lips, then his eyes met yours, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. And you wanted it more than anything. 

“If you had done that,” you said, breaking the tension, “if you had really given up, I would have left you.”

He reached his hand out to your waist, carefully reaching under the loose tank top you wore, meeting your skin. His touch was warm and sent shivers under your spine. Again, his eyes went to rest on your lips, tracing every curve. “No you wouldn’t,” he said. 

“Yes, I would,” you replied, your voice more forceful.

“No, you wouldn’t,” he whispered. His free hand had come to rest on your jawline, his thumb tracing up and down the side of your face. “You love me too much.”

“You’d be miserable without racing.” Your voice was beginning to shake.

“Maybe. But I’d get over it.”

You inhaled sharply, suddenly overcome with anxiety and a thick sense of dread. This was all you had wanted; you and Oscar, nothing but atoms of air separating your bodies. But now that you were here, you felt a lump in your throat suffocating you.

Oscar could sense it too. He pulled back slightly. “He wouldn’t let me,” he said, his voice soft. “And then he winked at you. I had to show him that I wouldn’t let him get away with any of this.”

“That’s immature,” you said. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“I was more hurt when he ran into me first, if you’ve forgotten.” Though he had moved away, his eyes still couldn’t help but glancing at your lips. “I’m just showing him that he can’t get away with all of this.”

“And what happens when one of you gets seriously hurt? I can’t lose you, Oscar.”

“You won’t.” His hand lowered to your hip and stayed there, tracing small circles into your skin. “I don’t care about winning anymore, but he does. He can’t run me off track without sacrificing points.”

“I don’t like this,” you said. Your voice was still shaking, though with a different kind of fear now. 

“I know,” he whispered. 

The closeness was too much. You felt like you were going to puke. “I guess I should go to my own room, let you get some rest.”

“If you want,” he said, his voice soft with a gentle and innocent wanting. “I won’t stop you. But you can stay.”

“I just—”

“YN,” he cut you off, “why are you so nervous? It’s just me.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going to do anything that you don’t want.”

“I know,” you echoed. You felt like a broken record. “Just…get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” he said. “Goodnight, YN.”

You didn’t respond as you crossed the room, opened the door, and went to your own hotel room. 

A few days later, you felt your heart drop as you checked your phone for the first time in hours.

You had been on a grueling flight back to Australia with Oscar, where you were meant to spend the summer break with his family. Upon arriving at the empty Piastri family home, you took your phone off airplane mode, and what you saw took all the blood away from your face. 

“House is ours for the night,” Oscar explained as he began unpacking his suitcase. “Mum doesn’t get back from her trip until tomorrow night, but of course she didn’t tell—”

“Oscar.”

“What?” he said, looking at you, you sat on the edge of his bed, phone clutched in hand, shaking.

“Have you checked your socials today?”

“Isn’t that what I pay you for?” he joked, cracking a smile. You didn’t look back at him, and he quickly dropped the banter. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

You silently handed him the phone. On the screen was a gossip page, and a carousel of images of you and Lando.

Talking on track, out in Monaco, in his car. Oscar wanted to puke. But as he scrolled, it got even worse. The face that still haunted his dreams, though he’d never admit it aloud anymore: Lily.

Mess at McLaren! Fans have noticed tensions between McLaren drivers Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris, but according to a close source within McLaren, things are worse than anyone could have imagined. Our source says that Piastri and long time girlfriend, Lily Zneimer, have been broken up for months, which explains her absence at nearly every Grand Prix this season. Piastri quickly moved on with long time friend and social media manager YN LN, but recently, YN has been seen in close quarters with his teammate Lando Norris. Will we be seeing a new wag soon, or more drama between the drivers? 

The comments were even worse.

Wait, why did Oscar and Lily break up? They were so endgame!

↪️Our source told us that Lily was not a fan of how close Oscar and YN were! They have been friends since they were children, but fans have been speculating for a while that there’s something deeper there. 

YN is such a homewrecker oh my God. I always felt off about her. 

↪️Exactly. Like not only did she break up Oscar and Lily, but then she’s going for Lando now! Like girl GO AWAY EWWW

That pic of YN outside Lando’s condo? Look at her dress. Compared to the pic from the restaurant, it’s clear she took that off. There’s no way they didn’t hook up. 

Okay but how have Oscar and Lily been broken up since March but none of us noticed?

↪️Lily has always been super private, which makes sense considering her ex and his “girl best friend” were always flaunting how close they are. You all remember that photo he deleted after the Australian GP? I feel so bad for her. 

↪️Oh if I was Lily I’d be pissed. You steal my man and then you leave him for his teammate? The audacity of YN!

He couldn’t read any more. But when he looked up, he couldn’t stand what he saw, either. You, unable to keep the tears back, your mind racing faster than a Formula 1 car.

“I’m ruined,” you said. “I’ve gotten emails from HR, the PR people at McLaren… I’m gonna lose my job.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Oscar, why would he do this?”

“Because he’s mad at me. And he knows the way to hurt me is through you. This is…his payback, I guess, for the crash.” As Oscar said those words, the truth dawned on him—this was his fault. 

“What do I even do?” you asked, and Oscar grabbed your shaking hands and held them in his own.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out after the break. I’ll make sure you don’t lose your job.”

“The entire internet thinks I’m a homewrecking whore.”

“No,” he said. “Just a small group of people who have nothing better to do than meddle in the personal lives of F1 drivers.”

“Are they wrong, though?”

“Don’t even entertain that idea. I’ll reach out to legal and see what they can do. This has got to be breaking Monaco privacy laws.”

“Oscar—”

“It’s gonna be okay, YN. I promise you.”

“Oscar,” you said, repeating his name, but this time quieter, more weighted. “Maybe this is a sign.”

“What?”

“I’ve been going back and forth about leaving for too long. Maybe this is it. I mean, how am I going to come back from this?”

“Are you serious? You just want to give up?” Oscar asked. His voice was tinged with anger.

“You, of all people, can’t lecture me about giving up,” you responded.

“Shit, you’re right, but I’ll tell you the same thing you told me. I won’t let you do it.”

“If I really wanted to leave, you’d make me stay? How would you manage that?” Your voice dripped in venom, and something more, something that sent a shiver down Oscar’s spine, an invitation to push.

“I’d figure it out,” he said, unsure of how far to go. “Just promise me you won’t give up immediately. At least try. Don’t let him win this easily.”

“I’m not competitive like you all,” you said, turning your head away. Suddenly, Oscar’s gaze felt too heavy for you to bear. 

“You said all you ever wanted was to be here with me. Are you gonna let him take that from you?” he asked.

You didn’t respond. Oscar moved towards you. “We’ll do this together. We’ll get through this. I promise. Will you promise me?”

Still, you were silent. 

“YN? Do you promise?” 

“Can you give me a minute?” you asked, though you didn’t wait for a response when you left the bedroom and made your way out onto the back porch.

In the distance, you heard the familiar and comforting sound of the neighborhood you had grown up in, and you let it lull you to a steady pace of breathing, in and out. 

You knew Oscar was right. You couldn’t give up this easily and let Lando take everything away from you. But you wanted so badly to indulge that instinct to run. 

You remembered what Oscar had said, nights before, when you had scolded him about his own desire to give in. He had said you were worth it, and the thought scared you. 

You had always been the one to do things for him, not the other way around. You had molded your entire future based on his dreams, until eventually they became your own. Now, all you wanted was him, but even when he was close enough to touch, you couldn’t take it. Why? What held you back from everything you had ever wanted, your entire life?

“YN,” Oscar called, closing the sliding door behind him. “I’m sorry. I was a little harsh.”

“It’s alright,” you said, as he sat next to you, his muscled arms straining against the fabric of his shirt. 

He bit his lip, unsure of exactly what to say. 

“You were right, though,” you said. “I shouldn’t give up. Neither of us should.”

“Do you really want to leave?” he asked, though the both of you were too nervous to look at the other. 

“I don’t know,” you answered. 

“I don’t know what I was on about, when I said I wouldn’t let you leave. I mean, I want you here. I won’t lie to you about that. But if you want to go…” his voice trailed off, unable to even comprehend what he’d do. 

“If I left, would you go back to Lily?”

“I— what? What does she have to do with any of this?”

“She has everything to do with this.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She left you because of me. And the entire reason I ever entertained Lando was because of her.”

“And now you want to leave because of her. Because you’ll never feel right about it, is that it?”

It shouldn’t shock you that Oscar knew you so well. Still, you kept your mouth shut, biting your lip.

“You were here before all of it,” he said. “Before Lando, before Lily, before racing, even. If being here is what you want, then you deserve it more than any of them.”

He moved to face you, his hand dangerously close to yours.

“So no, I wouldn’t go back to Lily.”

“Because she wouldn’t have you, or because you don’t want to be with her anymore?”

“YN, seriously?”

“What?”

“A few days ago I was about to give up my entire racing career for you. You really think I’d go back to her?”

The absurdity of what you’d implied dawned over you. 

“I…I’m sorry. I’m not thinking right.”

“I’m not upset. I just…” Oscar’s voice faded. You shivered in the cold air as night approached, evidenced by the stunning sunset that painted the Australian sky of his backyard. “Let’s go inside,” Oscar suggested, “You’re shivering.”

You wordlessly followed him back inside, but stopped before you got into his room. 

It had been a long time since you and Oscar had been alone in his room. The last time…well, it must have been the night that you lost your virginity. It almost felt like, to cross that threshold again would be to give up the fight that you had so strongly waged in your head. 

But isn’t that what you wanted?

Oscar, none the wiser, continued unpacking his clothes. 

You walked away, going to the kitchen to prepare food for dinner. 

It was odd, being in Oscar’s childhood home—and really, yours too—alone with him. All that was on your mind was the last time you were alone, in this place, a similar tension thick in the air, that ever-present fear that one of you would have to leave. It seemed that not much had changed. 

Oscar could tell that you were distracted, but he assumed the elephant in the room was your newly destroyed reputation, which he truthfully had no idea how he was going to fix. He’d figure it out. At least, that’s what he told himself. He’d figure anything out of it meant keeping you next to him every night, waking up with your arms around him. 

Though, recently, you had taken to sleeping alone. All this talk of leaving terrified him. He had once been so sure that you’d never leave him, that you’d always be there. The love and friendship you shared was strong enough to withstand anything—years of long distance, a relationship, his rise to stardom within Formula 1—but now, everything was as fragile as glass, able to be destroyed with just the tiniest bit of force.

He was scared. 

That fear returned when night fully came, and it was time to sleep. You were both exhausted from the insanity of the day. You had turned off your phone just to enjoy the silence of the home you grew up in. 

The episode of whatever random show you had been watching was over. The house was quiet, save for the creaking of the home’s bones, and the soft patter of rain outside. 

Despite your reservations, you had found yourself resting your head on Oscar’s shoulder, half asleep. He could feel his eyelids heavying too, but he didn’t want to disrupt the scene, the sweet presence of your closeness that could be gone any day now. 

“I should probably go to bed,” you said, your voice hoarse. Oscar hummed in response, unsure of what to say. He had a feeling that his words would just make the situation worse.

You stared at the ceiling of the Piastri family guest room, a familiar sight. Getting ready for bed had meant turning your phone back on for your alarm in the morning, and you had been inundated with a flood of nasty messages, worried texts, and concerning emails. You ignored them all. 

You felt like the ceiling was going to grow a set of eyes and start staring back at you, at this rate. Your insomnia in the past year was getting to you. 

Your gaze switched to your surroundings; the nondescript guest room, that was basically your childhood home. You had never decorated it, despite Nicole’s insistence that the room was yours to fill. You never felt like you deserved it. Someone else would eventually need to be there, someone more important than the girl from the troubled family across the cul de sac. 

And that was the root of all of this, wasn’t it? You were… you. The neighbour girl. The unofficial extra daughter. The best friend who was more like blood. The one who was always there, but in the background, never in the front; you wanted to be unnoticed, unknown. 

But it couldn’t be that way forever. Either you’d fully fade away, or you’d stay here forever, cemented in this family that had taken you in when no one else would. As much as you’d like to fight it, this place, this room, these people, they were your home. 

You should have been lulled to sleep by the droning of the ceiling fan or the gentle static of the rain outside that was now picking up to a stronger storm. But all you could think about was him. Oscar. Was he sleeping? Or was his mind running circles around itself, just like yours?

You picked up your phone to check the time. Nearly 3 in the morning. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d snuck into Oscar’s room in the early hours before the light of dawn. 

Down the hall, his door was ajar, as if he was expecting, or maybe hoping, you’d come by. You slid in silently and closed the door behind you. 

Oscar’s eyes glanced up to you, following your form as you assumed your place in the bed next to him. He could have turned away—you could have too—but instead you all curved to face each other, your eyes perfectly aligned, no words needed to express what you all knew to be true. 

Time had run out. You could no longer run from this, from him. And now you were back where it all began. 

You just held each other’s gaze for a moment, letting the silence speak all the words you knew couldn’t be said. Finally, Oscar broke the tension.

“YN,” he whispered, “I love you so much that it hurts.” You could hear the pain in his voice, the choked syllables that held back a flood’s worth of tears. “And I’m so fucking sorry about all of this. You deserve so much better.”

You didn’t respond, even as tears threatened their way forwards.

He continued, “You deserve someone who will always put you first. You deserve to go discover your dreams and make them happen, and you deserve someone who will be there to support you every second of the way. I’m so sorry I haven’t been that person. But God, I want to be.”

You whispered his name into the quiet between his words, but nothing could stop the flood that fell from his lips.

“If you want to go and find that person, find that dream, then do it. I want you to be happy more than I want you to be mine. But I can’t let you go without telling you how much I wish it could have been me.”

“Oscar,” you said, your voice more forceful this time, but he persisted.

“YN, I love you. I am in love with you. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t treat you better. I’m so sorry that I ruined what could have been so beautiful.”

“Oscar,” you repeated, cutting him off, “Kiss me.”

“What?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow to look down on you. 

“I said, kiss me.”

“But—”

“Oscar. I am asking you to kiss me.”

“You…you want me to?”

“Do you not want to?”

“No, I mean yes, I just—”

You could let him babble any more, so you took action into your own hands, sitting up to meet him, pressing your lips to his in a chaste and gentle kiss that felt like a tsunami coming to rest in the pit of your stomach. 

“Do you remember the last time we were here? Alone in your room?” you whispered against his lips, and he nodded. “I was so scared, then. But I trusted you. We trusted each other.”

“YN,” he exhaled, his voice breathy with need, “I’m afraid you’re going to leave me.”

“Don’t think about that. We’re here, right now. It’s just us.”

“It’s just us,” he repeated, his hands beginning to wander. And it was true. Here there was no Lando, no Lily, no Formula 1, nothing but you and the man you loved, your bodies intertwined, your chests heaving with desire.

“Oscar.”

“Yeah?”

“Do it again,” you commanded.

“Huh?”

“Kiss me again,” you said, a smile forming on your lips. 

“I don’t—” You kissed him again, savoring his familiar taste, the way your lips fit so perfectly with his.

He pulled away. “We can’t. You said we can’t.” 

“You really want to stop?” you asked. 

“But you said—”

“Oscar,” you said, his name like a prayer on your lips. “Please. I want this. I need it.”

He was quiet then, for a moment, upon hearing your confession of desire. You were scared for a moment that he might reject you. 

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered in your ear. “Show me how you want it. I’ll be gentle.”

You moved his tentative hands to your waist, and he pulled you closer, holding you against him, where you were near enough to feel his blood pulse through his veins. Your heart was beating fast, the feeling of him both foreign and familiar.

He reached one hand up into your hair, gently pulling your head to the side to press his lips to your neck, and you let out a whimper at the soft touch. You rested your hands against his bare chest, relishing the feeling of his heart beat and his breath that was rapidly increasing. His want was devouring him, but he touched you like you were something fragile and breakable. 

“You don’t have to be this gentle with me,” you said with a breathy voice. “I won’t break.”

“No, you’re too precious,” he said, a temporary reprieve from his lips exploring every inch of your neck. He looked up and delicately ran the back of his hand along the soft skin of your cheek. “You’re so soft and warm. I want to savor you. God, I missed this.”

You grabbed his chin and brought his lips back to yours, unable to resist him any longer. Your tongues explored each other’s mouths, re-mapping every inch that had been forgotten, and you moaned into him, softly grinding into his lap. You needed more of him. 

“You taste like heaven. God, you’ll be the fucking death of me, YN.”

You could already feel a wetness pooling in your panties, and your hitched breath at his praise made you all the more ready. “I need you,” you whimpered. “I need you inside of me, filling me up—”

“Oh,” he moaned, “don’t do this to me, YN. I won’t last.”

“Undress me,” you told him, and he complied, tossing your pajamas aside until you were left in nothing but your panties, which were already stained with a wet spot, evidence of how badly you needed him. 

His hands smoothed over the expanse of your chest, groping at the soft flesh and leaning down to take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. 

You exhaled, shivering, unused to such a gentle touch from your lover. You couldn’t help but want more of him; rougher, harder, faster. But he took his time with you, worshipping your body, committing every inch of skin to memory as if, at any second, you’d be gone. 

Oscar got down from the bed onto his knees before you, staring up at you with a lustful yet innocent adoration. He gently pawed at the softness of your thighs, spreading them open and he pulled you to the edge of the bed. The thin, soaked fabric of your panties was the only barrier between him and the fullness of your body, and he quickly pulled them off, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thighs as his eyes met your wet slit. 

“I want to make you cum on my tongue,” he said, one hand groping your left thigh as he kissed your right. He looked so beautiful, bowed before you, worshipping between your legs. 

“Please,” you begged. You were already quivering with anticipation, and he’d barely even touched you. 

“I love you,” he murmured into your skin, soft enough that you could barely understand him. Even with the muffled words, you could feel the sweet sentiment as he held your legs open and flattened his tongue to like a stripe from your opening to your clit, ending with his lips gently pressed to the bundle of nerves. 

You let out a sinful sound at the feeling, tensing up your thighs around his face as he ate you out like a starved man, savoring every bit of wetness he could lick up. Your hands instinctively found his hair as you leaned back, quivering at the feeling of his tongue swirling around your clit. One hand held your hip firmly in place, preventing you from squirming, while the other skillfully pumped two fingers in and out of you.

“O-Oscar…” you moaned, close to the edge.

He stopped. “You okay?”

“Don’t stop, please,” you begged, throwing your head back in pleasure as he fingered you faster, his mouth sucking on your clit. You squealed, letting out a high pitched whine as you came undone, fulfilling his wish. He licked up every drop of you, steadying you by holding your legs in his strong arms as they shook from the intensity of your climax. 

His name fell from your lips again and again, and he got back on the bed, laying you out beneath him. Your hair sprawled in a halo against the pillows, and he sat up above you, admiring the sight of you, desperate with wanting before him. 

“Oscar, please,” you begged. “I need you.”

He leaned down to kiss your neck again, whispering in your ear, “You need me?”

“Need you inside of me,” you echoed.

“No,” he said, taking off his own last layers until both of you were fully bare, “I need you. Need you wrapped around me. Need to stretch you out, fill you up.”

There were no words left with which to beg him, and your doe eyes staring at him were all he needed to take you fully. He let out a low groan as he sank into you, your velvety insides gripping him so perfectly. The sweet burn of him taking you was heavenly. 

“It’s always been you, YN,” he moaned as he fucked into you, slow but deep strokes making you see stars. “I’ve always wanted you. I always needed you—fuck. Love isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for you.”

You reached for the muscles of his back, feeling them straining with every thrust as he held back from ruining you. He wanted to last, to fuck you slow and gentle, but he couldn’t help the lust that only grew hearing your sweet sounds, breathy in his ear.

You needed him closer. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper into you, and all you could hear was the obscene sounds of your wetness and Oscar groaning into your mouth as he brought his lips to yours again. His hand rested on your waist as he pushed as far as he could into you, resting for a moment. 

“You feel so fucking good. I’m not gonna last.”

“Don’t stop,” you whined.

“But I wanna take my time with you,” he whispered against your skin. 

“We have all night,” you teased. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled, his breath shaky as he pounded into you, and you squealed. You had both run out of words, too enraptured with the bliss of the other’s body against your own, becoming one again after so long. You had finally given in, and it felt too fucking good. Your brain shut off, only able to think about your own impending climax as he rutted into you, bringing you both closer and closer to the edge.

“My perfect girl. Oh, God, I’m so close. I love you—fuck, I’m gonna…” You stretched down his back as he gave one last, violent thrust into you before spilling his seed inside of you, moaning obscenely into your ear. He reached down and roughly rubbed at your sensitive clit until you came too, the empty home now full of the unrestrained sounds of your pleasure.

He held you there as you both steadied your breath, and as the static in your ears grew quiet, all you could hear was his breathing and yours, indistinguishable in the aftermath of your lovemaking. He gently kissed you, crading your face in his hands like you were a gentle, precious thing.

“I love you,” he murmured over and over through his shaky breaths. “I love you so much.”

You couldn’t bask in the afterglow, though, as your logic swiftly came back to you. “Oscar, did you finish inside of me?”

Your lover just hummed in response. “Oscar,” you said, your voice more urgent now, “I’m not on birth control.”

He was snapped out of his reverie. “You’re not? YN, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was just caught up in the moment—”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even mean to—”

You laughed out of the sheer absurdity of it all. “Of course this would happen to us. I am so fucking stupid…”

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, resuming his affection by bringing his lips back to your cheek. “Isn’t this what Plan B is for?” 

You exhaled sharply, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll just take the pill. I’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

“Hey,” he said, turning your face to look at him. “It will be fine. I promise. I’m here for you no matter what.”

You exhaled again, this time an attempt at a real release of tension. 

“Breathe with me,” he said, and you took a few deep breaths in unison as he snuggled next to you, tracing patterns on the exposed skin of your stomach to calm you. It worked, and feeling the warmth of his bare skin against your own brought you to a sense of peace.

“It’s gonna be okay. I’m here,” he repeated, lulling you into something like sleep. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, letting him hold you as exhaustion finally took hold. 

[miakat9]

BET ON A PODIUM

Lando Norris X Photographer!fem!reader

Summary: When Lando is in love with Y/n, and whenever he asks her out on a date she says no out of fear, but the reality is that Y/n also likes him. And then, Lando makes a bet, if he finishes the race with a podium, she will have to meeting with him.

Words: 3.6K+

Warnings: Bet, mention of the past, Y/n photographs, suggestive (??) I don't think so, but a hot part.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story.

MASTERLIST

From a young age, Y/n knew she wanted to pursue a career in photography. Motorsport, on the other hand, was a world she only discovered when she landed an internship at McLaren as a teenager. At the time, she worked behind the scenes, capturing candid moments and helping the media team directly from the Surrey headquarters. With a keen eye and a natural talent for capturing the essence of scenes, she quickly earned the respect of everyone around her.

Over time, Y/n completed her higher education in photography technology and, with that, her role in the team expanded. Now, she traveled with McLaren to every race, being one of the main photographers responsible for recording the team at the racetracks. His work was adored by all the pilots, the engineers, the mechanics. She knew exactly how to capture not only the speed and excitement of the tracks, but also the behind-the-scenes, the little details that went unnoticed by many, but that told unforgettable stories to fans.

It was then that, in 2017/2018, Lando Norris arrived at McLaren. At the time, he was just a young promising motorsport driver, and Y/n was responsible for the photoshoot for his announcement on social media.

"Relax, Norris. If you get too serious, I'll spread the word that you're actually an extremely grumpy guy."

He laughed, easing the tension.

"Am I frowning?"

"Maybe." She smiled, adjusting the camera. "Or maybe I just want to see you smile more."

The conversation flowed naturally. Y/n explained details about the team, telling funny stories and helping him feel more at ease. Lando, in turn, told him about his background, his experiences and his expectations. From that first day, there was a genuine connection between them.

The years passed and, working together almost every weekend, hanging out with the team and sharing countless moments, a feeling began to emerge. A passion that, little by little, became too evident to ignore.

Lando never hid what he felt. His flirtations were constant, sometimes provocative, sometimes innocent. Sometimes, he said it directly.

"If I smile at you more, do I get a coffee after work?"

"Who knows?" Y/n retorted playfully, without denying the sparkle in her eyes.

And he noticed. He always noticed. Because she was in love with him too. He could see it in her looks, in her smiles and even in the way she flirted back. But there was something he didn't understand: why, then, did she never accept his invitation to go out?

But he was sure of one thing. He wouldn't give up on the love of his life so easily.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The garage was already silent, the fans had left the stands long ago and the cars had been taken away by the engineers. Y/n was leaning against the monitors' table, reviewing the photos she had taken throughout the day, capturing the drivers, the technical details, the McLaren environment. Her attentive gaze analyzed each image until, without realizing it, she smiled as she passed by the photos of Lando.

"I thought you had already gone to the hotel."

His voice snapped her out of her concentration. Lifting her head, she saw Lando standing beside her, his jumpsuit still tucked around his waist and his tight, fireproof shirt still showing off his physique. The sweet smile he wore made her heart skip a beat.

"Not yet. I'm looking at some photos to send to the media to edit and post on social media." Y/n smiled, fiddling with her cameras and equipment.

Lando, in turn, watched her, noticing the small details like how she frowned when concentrating, how her hands moved with precision when organizing her things. Letting a passionate smile come out of his lips.

"I was thinking. We could go to dinner. What do you think?" He said, resting his hands on the table and leaning slightly towards her, a smile on his face.

Y/n, oblivious to the real meaning of the offer, nodded as she organized her bag. "Sure! We can invite the media people too and Carlos. They'll love it-"

"No, no!! Just the two of us."

She lifted her head quickly, her startled gaze meeting his.

"Oh, us... two." He said quietly. Lando chuckled lightly, nodding.

"Ah. You know how it is... I need to send the photos to the media and help them edit them before posting..."

She tried to escape, but he kept his smile, arching an eyebrow. "I thought I was free, you agreed first."

Y/n picked up her bag and put it on her shoulder, holding the camera as she took a few steps back, not noticing the table behind her.

"It's just, well... I thought we were going with the guys." She slammed her foot against the table, causing one of the team's headphones to fall to the floor. In a quick reflex, she managed to catch it in midair.

Lando laugh.

"Nice save, sunshine. You should be a pilot, not a photographer."

She let out an awkward laugh. "Sorry, I have to go, Lan. See you tomorrow!"

Quickly grabbing her things, she hurried out of the garage, bumping into the wall before disappearing down the hallway. Lando stayed behind, confused by her refusal, but laughing at the clumsy way she had fled.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

The day was still early in the paddock, and Y/n was sitting at the tables next to the McLaren motorhome, drinking coffee and reviewing some photos on the computer. Lando arrived with a cup of coffee in his hand, looking relaxed after his morning practice session.

Y/n quickly looked at him and smiled. "Good morning."

"Good morning, sunshine." Lando smiled back, and his bright gaze made Y/n's heart beat a little faster. He plopped down in the chair next to her and stared at the computer screen. "Let me guess... more amazing pictures of me?" The pilot joked, resting his chin on his hand.

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled. "Actually, I'm editing a picture of Daniel."

Lando put his hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. "Betrayal."

She laughed out loud, looking at him, while he held her gaze for a few more seconds, bringing the cup to his mouth. Y/n smiled shyly and bit her lower lip, looking away to the computer again.

Lando watched her with a loving smile on his face as she typed something and switched the memory card from the camera to the computer. Then, looking at his cup on the table, he casually commented.

"You know... I heard there's an amazing Italian restaurant nearby. The food is really good. We should go there for dinner tonight."

Y/n looked up at him and smiled.

"Sounds great!" Lando thought maybe this time she'd take him up on his offer. "We could even have dinner with the crew there later."

He raised his eyebrows, smiling, and Y/n realized. The team wasn't supposed to go along. It was just the two of them.

"Ah... I... oh." She tried to say something, but Lando laughed.

"Ah, so..."

Y/n looked away to the computer again. "You know what... today is my hair wash day."

She closed her eyes for a second, internally blaming herself for the most absurd excuse she had ever given.

Lando's eyes widened, holding back a laugh. "Wash your hair?"

Y/n wanted a hole in the ground to swallow her right then.

"Yeah... I have a super strict schedule with it and today is hydration day." She mentally tortured herself once again for the most ridiculous excuse of her entire life. "You know how it is, keeping it beautiful and shiny like this takes work!" She tossed her locks back, trying to relax.

Lando laughed out loud, resting his chin on his hand.

"You know I'll beat you in this battle someday, don't you?" He said teasingly.

Y/n smiled, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Years passed and, despite all the time spent together, Lando and Yin still limited themselves to friendly outings. Silly laughter, teasing and teasing were frequent between them, a perfect dynamic of best friends. But behind the jokes, there was a latent feeling.

Lando wanted more. He wanted to take her on a real date, he wanted to hold her hand, kiss her and finally tell her how much he loved her. But Y/n was hesitant. Afraid. Countless reasons were piling up in her mind, preventing her from taking that step.

She was afraid of mixing her professional and personal life. She had worked hard to get where she was and she was afraid that everything would fall apart because of a relationship that might not work out. But above all, there was a trauma from the past. A teenage crush that had left scars on her heart. A relationship that had started like Lando's—friendship, flirting, persistent attempts to convince her to leave. And when she finally gave in, she realized that he was nothing more than a scoundrel who only wanted to break her heart as if it were his hobby.

She knew Lando was different. She had known him for much, much longer than the other boy. But the parallels between their stories were too much to ignore, and the fear of getting hurt again was greater than her desire to give in to that feeling.

In the paddock, Y/n was focused on taking pictures of Oscar. The Australian, who even though he had arrived at McLaren after them, already understood perfectly the dynamic between the two. Lando and Y/n were a couple in love, but a couple that had not yet happened. Oscar thought it looked like something out of one of the romance novels his sisters read when they were teenagers.

"When's the episode where you admit you love him and agree to go on a date?" Oscar asked suddenly, after witnessing yet another tense interaction between Y/n and Lando.

Y/n lowered the camera and smiled, frowning a little before letting out a short laugh and shaking her head.

"Probably in the final episode, complete with a dramatic soundtrack and a big speech in the rain." She raised the camera again to continue shooting, but Oscar crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"So you're just dragging out the script, aren't you?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to hide her smile. "I'm just making sure the audience keeps watching."

Oscar laughed and went back to posing for the photos. Between one click and another, Y/n's cell phone began to vibrate repeatedly in her jacket pocket. She rolled her eyes and picked up the device, making Oscar laugh when he saw her reaction.

"Let's take a break." Y/n said taking her phone out of her pocket and Oscar walked to a nearby table to drink some water.

She read the messages, a small smile escaping her lips. She bit the inside of her cheek and cracked her fingers on her hand, as if pondering the answer.

Oscar watched the scene, closed the bottle of water and laughed. "Let me guess! Another request from Lando for you to go on a date with him?"

Y/n looked up at the pilot and let out a laugh. "Hey, are you still here?"

Oscar laughed.

"Hey! I'm a spectator, I'm enjoying the drama. I'm just a little impatient because the lady won't leave with the gentleman right away!" He raised his hands in surrender.

Y/n rolled her eyes, putting her phone in her pocket and picking up her camera again.

"Come on, viewer! Back to the pictures!" She laughed.

Months passed and despite all the refusals, Lando would not give up. He was determined to make Y/n his girlfriend. She, on the other hand, was almost giving in. The fear of the past still haunted her mind, but there was a light in the background that illuminated the possibility of something different happening.

That light was Lando. His best friend for the past seven years or so, since he joined McLaren.

That guy who spent all this time asking her out on a date. That guy she was madly in love with. That guy who, on sleepless nights, made her fantasize about a happy life with him, like a silly teenager. That guy she loved.

That afternoon, Y/n was in the garage, in one of the rooms where the media team stored their photography equipment and set up photo sets. She was alone, cleaning her camera lenses, when Lando appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the frame and crossed his arms, watching her with an amused smile.

"You know, I've lost count of how many times I've seen those sneakers. They're practically your trademark."

The shock made Y/n almost drop the lens she was holding. She looked up, surprised.

"For God's sake, Norris! Do you want to give me a heart attack?"

He chuckled at her reaction and entered the room, walking nonchalantly as he looked around. Y/n, still leaning on the table, crossed her feet on the floor and turned her attention to the lens.

"I thought you were preparing for qualifying."

"I'm almost there. I just wanted to see if you had prepared your excuse for today."

Y/n smiled, already imagining where that conversation would end. When she finally looked up, Lando was already standing right next to her, resting one hand on the table next to her. The proximity made her hold her breath for a moment, but she hid it.

"Excuse me for what?" She tilted her head teasingly, feeling in control for the first time.

"To say no when I ask you out."

She laughed, trying to maintain her composure as she put the lens in her bag and grabbed another one to clean.

"You know... Today you're in luck! I didn't have much time to think of an excuse as good as the others."

Lando laughed and felt hope rise within him.

"Good to know I'm moving forward."

She smiled and turned a little, feeling Lando's warmth so close to her. Then, he leaned in a little more and murmured:

"I could just ask you out again... But I think I can make this more interesting."

Y/n looked up, intrigued. "Oh really? Then tell me."

Their faces were so close that their lips were almost touching. Lando smiled, enjoying this game.

"How about a bet? If I get on the podium tomorrow, you go out to dinner with me."

She smiled and tilted her head to the side. "What if I can't, Norris?"

Lando felt a chill run down his spine when she emphasized his last name, but he kept his smile.

"You choose a consequence."

Y/n pretended to ponder for a moment, but she already knew exactly what she wanted.

"Okay! But since I'm a really nice girl and you're an extremely insistent guy, let's do it like this... If you don't get the podium, we'll still go out on a date. However, on one condition."

Lando arched an eyebrow.

"What condition?"

"You post a picture of us on Instagram admitting defeat and praising my supreme intelligence for always refusing your advances."

Lando laughed, loving the challenge. He leaned even closer, his lips lightly touching hers.

"Closed."

For a second, Y/n thought about giving in. She thought about ending that provocation right there and kissing him once and for all. But she wouldn't give him that pleasure. At least, not yet.

She slowly pulled away and, before leaving the room, she placed a soft kiss on the exposed part of his neck.

"Good luck, Norris."

Lando stood there, watching her grab her gear and leave, a goofy grin on his face. But before she could disappear down the hallway, he called out to her.

"Y/n?" She turns around, still smiling like an idiot. "What if I stay in P1? Do I get a kiss before the date?"

She laughed and walked away again, replying without looking back: "Focus on getting the podium. We can see about that later!"

Lando stood there, alone in the room, feeling the heat of her kiss on his skin and the anxiety growing inside him. Tomorrow would be a big day.

The day dawned cloudy and with a cold wind cutting through the air. Y/n pulled her coat a little closer to her body as she walked through the paddock, her large bag slung over her shoulder, carrying her camera and equipment. The badge around her neck swayed in the breeze, and her disheveled hair was constantly being fixed by her hands every few seconds.

As he walked, his eyes drifted to the trail in the distance, but his vision was suddenly interrupted by two hands covering his eyes. Before he could even think, a smile appeared on his lips.

"Lando! It's you!"

A familiar laugh confirmed her suspicion, and soon the hands moved away, allowing her to see again. He appeared at her side, following her steps across the paddock.

"Wow, I thought it was more mysterious than that. How did you recognize me so quickly?"

Y/n adjusted the badge that still insisted on flying. "Easy. You're the only idiot who does this every weekend."

Lando pretended to be offended. "Idiot? I call it tradition."

She smiled at him and then went back to watching the track.

"It's a beautiful day for a date, don't you think?"

Y/n turned to him, chuckling softly. "Actually, the day is weird, the sun didn't come out. And second, you need the podium to have the meeting the way you want it!"

Lando smirked. "You can choose the restaurant, but only because I'm a nice guy."

"And insistent!" Y/n added, and they both laughed together.

In the distance, Oscar approached and smiled when he saw the scene. "Good morning, lovebirds! Is today the episode where the lady goes out with the gentleman on a date premieres?"

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Funny, Oscar. I thought you were busy studying race strategies, but apparently you're focused on our drama series."

"I'm just being your favorite spectator!" Oscar replied with a laugh.

"He's just getting ready to admit that today he's going to witness a miracle: you finally agreeing to go out with me." Lando lightly squeezed Y/n's shoulders with a smug smile.

"Miracle? That sounds like another high-risk gamble. I hope you have a plan B for when she runs away again." The Australian says, smiling to tease the two.

Y/n shot Oscar a death glare, while Lando just laughed. The Australian walked away, waving at the two.

The two continued walking, until Y/n stopped at the rooms reserved for McLaren, in front of a staircase and a beautiful garden.

"I'll see you in the garage later, honey. I need to work on my strategies to get that first place on the podium and secure my kiss and date!" Lando said before disappearing into the paddock.

The race time was approaching. The drivers were not yet on the grid, and Y/n took the opportunity to take some photos of them distracted in the car. While reviewing the images on the camera, she felt a gentle touch on her arm.

"Have you thought about what you're going to wear when you go out with me?" Lando asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

Y/n smiled, not taking her eyes off the camera.

"Hmm, maybe a dress. Or a skirt? What do you think, Norris? You're the one who's going to take it off!!" She looked up and saw that he was speechless. His laughter echoed through the shower. "I left you speechless, didn't I, Landito?"

Lando rolled his eyes, laughing, while Y/n let out a laugh.

The British driver had pushed hard in qualifying the day before, securing P3 at the start. It was as if the energy he had always needed was Y/n.

And when finally the cars were lined up on the grid. Y/n was with a fellow photographer near the fence, taking some pictures of the team's drivers as they chatted casually.

"If I were you, I'd already choose the restaurant. That boy is determined." Her friend says, looking at Y/n and wiggling her eyebrows.

Y/n blushed and smiled, gripping the camera a little tighter than usual. The lights went out, and she held her breath without realizing it. The cars sped down the track, and she recorded every moment.

The race was intense. Lando lost positions in the first laps, leaving the team frustrated and Y/n tense. But, after an efficient pit stop, he returned to the track and began to gain positions, getting close to Max, who was leading.

In the final laps, on a decisive curve, Lando took the lead. The garage erupted in celebration. Second by second, he increased his advantage, crossing the finish line in P1.

In the McLaren garage, the party began.

"GUYS! Let's open some champagne because tonight the couple is going out on a date!" Someone shouted, and Y/n's eyes widened. Everyone knew about the bet. Laughing, she was hugged by the team members who were teasing her.

Lando parked the car and raised his arms, cheering inside the cockpit. He jumped out, being engulfed by the crew in hugs and cheers. But then, his eyes found Y/n. His smile grew.

Without warning, he walked through the crowd and stopped in front of her. Before Y/n could react, Lando grabbed her face and kissed her. She remained tense for a few moments, knowing that there were countless cameras broadcasting nationally and internationally every move the champion made that day.

But then, she melted into the kiss. Something she had been waiting for years and was afraid to cross that line. An intense kiss, full of emotion and contained desire. Her hands caressing Lando's sweat-drenched curls, while he held her face as if it were porcelain, closing his eyes and reveling in the moment he had waited for so long. Camera flashes exploded around, but nothing mattered to Y/n except Lando there, kissing her.

When they walked away, he smiled.

"What now? Are you going out with me?"

She laughed, still dazed. "Yes, of course I will. As many times as you ask!"

Lando kissed her quickly before walking away to the podium. Y/n stood there, feeling her heart race, as the McLaren crew screamed in celebration.

That was the beginning of something incredible.

[miakat9]

Devil's roll the dice (angel's roll their eyes) | Landoscar X reader

English is not my first language, take it easy

Warnings: Stupidity (in a cool way), drunken marriage, Landoscar having a crush on eachother and being little bitches about it, drunk sex, m/m/f, mentions of Elvis Presley covers

Face claim: girls of pinterest under the "white dress" search

🃏

Ynrkv

Liked by Lando, oscarpiastri and others

Ynrkv Only white dresses for Las Vegas, I hope I don't have to say anything else!

View all comments

User81 someone is getting married this weekend!

Lando I will say it for you

→ Ynrkv Thank you very much 🙏🏼

Oscarpiastri Why Lando get a cool picture and I got whatever this is?

→ ynrkv You look cute, shut up

→ Oscarpiastri @/Lando I hate you

→ Lando You don't

🃏

"Is Lando responsable for this?" Oscar stopped in front of me and showed me my newest post on Instagram. Specifically the first photo on the slide.

"Yeah." I said still laying on the couch in his driver's room. "Did you like it?"

Osc locked his phone and put it in his pocket.

"I did, half of the grid did too." He he said a bit too irritaded, and I chuckled.

"By half of the grid you say Lando?" Oscar rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him, starting to pack up his things.

"And it matters?" He wasn't in a good mood, the race wasn't the best, so this, what is a normal thing, became a little bit bigger than it should.

"Lando is always flirting, it's nothing new."

"I don't like it." He said closing his backpack passive - aggressively.

"He flirts with you too, should I be mad?"

"Don't be crazy, he doesn't."

"He does, I'm not crazy." I got up. "We're in Vegas, let's drink the bad fellings away."

"I want to sleep."

"You don't, you want to cry to sleep, is different. Now please, can we go have a drink?" Oscar nodded. "Thank you."

He kissed me and out we went. We debated where to go, but in the end the hotel had a great bar, so we went there, no thoughts, just a cosmopolitan and a expresso martini on hand. It was conforting, just me and Oscar talking about silly things, but a couple drinks in I saw Lando walk in, comicly trying to get away from a blonde girl that was following him like a lost puppy. I chuckled and Oscar looked too.

"This girl again? Jesus." Oscar made the same face he did when he was talking about the picture and Lando flirting with me.

"Go help your mate." Osc shook his head and took a sip of his drink.

"Last time I did that she started crying." I laughed and shook my head.

"Babe, you have dealt with worse, go help, Lando." He rolled his eyes, but I could see he was glad to go fuck that girls happiness up. Oscar walked to Lando, and without even say hi, he pulled the man away from the girl. She tried to say something, but Oscar can get a bit intimidating when he wants to, which is not often, and strangely only happens in situations when Lando and Myself are needing help with something. The girl looked around and her eyes stopped on me, so I waved to the girl, I don't think she liked it.

"Got a girl problem?" I asked Lando as he aprocched me with Oscar by his side.

"Problem is a cute word, she is worst. She is everywhere, I can't anymore. Thanks for the help." He looked at Oscar that nodded.

"To celebrate, let's do shots?" Before anyone answered I was ordering the shots.

"I like her." Lando said to Oscar.

"She is my girlfriend, Norris."

"And? I never said I didn't liked you." Lando was tipsy, and it was visible, but so were we. I turned to look at Oscar that was blushing.

"Why are you all red, love?" I tease him, he always denied when I asked if he had a crush on a man ever in his life, but everytime Lando looked at him with his flirty eyes, the man was blushing like a little girl.

"Shut up." The shots were now in front of us.

1, 2, 3, 4 at the fifth round of shots we decided to go somewhere else, since Las Vegas has too many places to just be stuck in one hotel bar. First, Lando used his famous F1 driver badge, and Oscar's too just for good mesure, to get us inside a club, and it worked. The place was crowded, but it had good music and I love to dance.

"Good pick!" I yelled trought the loud music to Lando and he nodded.

"I know." He didn't yell like me, he got way too close to say it in my ear. I looked at Oscar that just looked at Lando, not one sign of jealousy, so I let it slide.

"Let's dance." I pulled Oscar by his hand to the dance floor, when I looked at him I saw he pulling Lando like I did with him.

The lights on the dance floor were blinding me, the smell of sweat and alchool were strong, but the song is too good to not enjoy it. I started to dance, Oscar did too. I don't know what happened, but between one song and the other, I was being pressed in between the two men, Oscar's face was so closed to mine, and Lando's body even closer to mine.

This was overstimulating all my senses, but god, it was good. Oscar's hands were on my hips, and I was sure of it, so it was clear that the other pair on my hips were Lando's. I never thought that this could happen without Oscar getting mad or too jealous, but it was happening and I wasn't mad at all. His face was sundenly on my neck, this was going too far, but Oscar was just looking.

We had to let go of eachother when we saw a girl in the distance pull out her phone to film us. So we got to go to the next location. We walked for some minutes and we were at a chapel one of those that you get married by a Elvis. I was ready to walk away from it because I didn't thought anything of it, but Oscar stopped.

"Love?" He called me and I looked at him.

"Yeah?" He looked at the little chapel and back at me.

"Do you want to marry me?" I look at him confused.

"What?"

"Do you want to marry me?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, come on." Lando looked at us.

"Please, go get married." I nodded.

"Let's do this." We runned in, and again, Oscar and Lando did all the complicated stuff and I just needed to say yes to Elvis, as it played love me tender in the background. Lando was the best person to have with us in this moment. Then we got back to the hotel and drank more.

It was almost six a.m when we were walking into Oscar's room.

"Don't break anything, Lando." Oscar said closing the door. I took of my heels and went to drink water.

"Why me? That's crazy."

"You're the liability, not me or my wife." Lando threw himself on the bed.

"Me? Oh fuck you, I'm not a liability, I'm fine." I gave a bottle of water to Lan and other to Oscar before hugging my husband.

"Yes, you're. Thank you, love."

"Thank you, darling."

"You're both welcome." Lando opened the water bottle and spilled all over himself. Oscar looked at Lando, and Lando looked at Oscar.

"I know what you're going to say, so don't." He got up and took off his shirt trying to dry his pants.

"As I said, liability." I sat on the bed and looked at them.

"At least you didn't wet the bed."

"But everything else is fucking wet." Oscar looked at me and smirked.

"Everything? Are you sure?"

"Oscar!" I threw a pillow on him.

"I just asked if he was sure."

"Pervert." Lando said laughing. Oscar lay down on by my side and hugged my waist.

"What? You two are perverts, I'm just saying, not everything is wet. The bed is fine, the floor is fine, you're the only thing that's wet."

"Sure." Lando said throwing his shirt on the floor.

"Take it off." Oscar said to Lando.

"What?"

"You want to be all wet fine, if don't, take it off, it's fine."

"Can I?" Lando asked me and I nodded.

"Sure." As he was taking his pants off, Oscar put his face on my neck leaving little kisses and soft bites. This man knows what he is doing.

"Can you two stop?" Lando was way hotter in his boxers, I have to give him that.

"Stop what? I'm just hugging my wife, can't I?"

"Osc... You're not just hugging her." He sat by my side rolling his eyes.

"No?" He pushed his hips against mine, Oscar was really excited about what was going on in his mind.

"Love, what are your plans?"

"I don't have any plans."

"Can you control your boyfriend, darling?"

"Oh, he's past the control part. I'm sorry." Oscar sighed.

"You two are boring. Sometimes I forget that all Lando can do is bad flirting."

"I'm really good at flirting, and I can do a lot more than that."

"Prove it." I turned to look at Oscar, completely in shock.

"How? You want me to do what? Kiss your wife? Kiss you?" He joked, little did he knew that was exactly what Oscar wanted.

"Are you thinking about it, Oscar?" I asked and he nodded.

"Any cons?" I shook my head.

"Go ahead."

"Oh god, you really mean that don't you?" Lando asked.

"What? Do you think I would let you grind on my girl just because I'm nice?" Oscar sat on the bed. "Are you going to say now you don't like the idea? If you don't, it's fine too..."

Before the end of his thought, Lan pulled Oscar and kissed him. Everything is happening too fast, or my head is too slow because of the alcohol, either way everything looks like a wet dream.

"That's what I'm talking about." Oscar said against Lando's lips. The unclothed state of Lando didn't help his case, he was getting hard by the second.

"I fucking knew you had a crush on eachother." I whispered more to me then to them, but they heard it, of course they did. Oscar chuckled letting Lando go.

"Sorry for lying."

"Well, sure, yes, sorry. Can we skip to the part fun? We can discuss about your man being canonically bi later."

"You're more needy than her after a race weekend, this will be fun."

"I'm not needy." I sat up.

"Sure, show Lando how not needy you're." I rolled my eyes jokingly and kissed Lando, and it was as good as I thought it would be.

Oscar unzipped my dress pulling it down, Lando's hands went to my hips in my naked skin, Oscar's hands also came in contact with my skin, less shy than Lando's. Oscar was quick to slide his hand on to Lando's body too, who pulled him into the kiss.

My hands went to Lando's boxer and Oscar's pants, both men incredibly hard. Lando moaned into the kiss making Oscar smile as he helped me get into his pants.

"You moan like a little bitch did you know that?" Oscar examined Lando's face trying to see if he was aligned with him, and the second moan coming out of him said a big yes to that.

"Now I know." I got down to take him on my mouth while I kept Oscar on my hand. "For fuck's sake." He gripped my hair pulling me against him.

"She's great." I heard Oscar saying, and if I needed to bet, I bet he was smiling.

"Yes." I looked up seeing Lando's face he wasn't able to answer more than that anyway. Oscar slapped my ass before sliding his fingers on my folds making me moan against Lando, and he gripped my hair even harder.

"Not only his clothes are wet, I see." He put on of his fingers inside me and moved a couple times before taking it off making me whine at the loss. "Lando?"

"hm?"

"Do you want to feel her?" He nodded eagerly, with his free hand he put one of his fingers in me, being followed by one of Oscar's. I took my mouth of Lando and moaned. They moved in an unison, driving me fucking crazy, just the thought of them fingering me could break me.

"Fuck, can someone fuck me already?"

"As I said, needy." I hate when he is right, but right now I hate to not have anyone inside of me. He took his fingers of me, sucking my juices off his finger, before he grabbed my face making me look at him. "Do you want to be fuck my Lando?"

"Yes, please!"

"Will you be a good girl for him?" I nodded.

"Yes, I will." Oscar smiled.

"Ok, then." He looked over to Lando. "She is yours, be good and make my girl come before you do."

"Yes, sir." Lando said without thinking, but quickly took it back. "I mean, Osc."

"No, no, I like that, keep it up." I couldn't see Lando's reaction to Oscar, but I could feel the tip of his cock brushing on my pussy. I looked at Oscar as Lando buried himself in me, like Osc likes to say: Moaning like a little bitch.

"Lando, you feel so good." I whined.

"You feel even better." He groaned. I saw Oscar getting closer to my face and I opened my mouth, he didn't think twice before starting to fuck my mouth, as hard as he could. My eyes where watering, I was drooling everywhere, but Oscar was looking at me like I was the prettiest girl he ever saw. It made me clench around Lando, who gripped onto my hips for dear life.

As harder as Lando fucked my pussy, Oscar did as well to my mouth, I never felt as full as right now. I could get used to it. Oscar pulled Lando to a kiss, they looked so good together I could put it on the Louvre and if I did, people would stop looking at the Mona Lisa. I moaned against Oscar, and tightened around Lando.

"Fuck, darling." Lando moaned.

"Do you want to come?" Oscar asked me and I nodded, he took his dick off my mouth and said on my ear. "Then do it as loud as you can."

"And as quickly as you can, because I'm almost there too. If you take longer I'll cum inside you." It wasn't a threat, or a promise, it was a concerned statement, but the thought of him cumming inside me just made me go over the edge, I screamed, both of their names, feeling every inch of me trembling almost falling against the bed. Oscar chuckled.

"I think she liked the idea." Oscar looked at my face and back at Lando. "You can if you want." He didn't have to say it twice, as soon as Oscar finished his sentence I felt Lando coming undone inside me.

"Fuck." He moaned and Oscar pulled my hair to make me look at him.

"Open up." I opened my mouth as he came partially inside of it. Lando pushed me against him to lick my chin clean of Oscar's seed, as he was still inside me. We kissed, then Oscar joined.

"Is this one of those things that doesn't leave Vegas?" Lando asked as he helped me to lay down on the bed.

"I would love if it did left Vegas." Oscar said as he got up, going to the bathroom. I hugged Lando's waist and nodded agreeing with Osc.

"You will sleep with us tonight, right?" I asked Lando, he looked at Oscar who just sat by my side and started to clean me up with a wet towel.

"You heard the queen." Oscar answered jokingly.

"If you insist."

"I do." I said closing my eyes, they started to talk about something, but I slept so quickly I couldn't understand what it was.

I woke up with the sun on my face, cursing myself for not closing the blinds properly. I opened my eyes to see Oscar sleeping like an angel, but I could feel the heaviness of someone else's arms on my waist. I turned around to see Lando drooling on the pillow. I smiled. It wasn't a dream, it was real.

I pause. I look at my hand.

All of it was real.

I was really wearing a wedding ring that matches Oscar's, and I can't really believe that our first action as a married couple was bring Lando in. It wasn't a bad idea.

"Good morning." I heard Oscar and I turned to see him.

"Good morning." He kissed me and looked passed my shoulder to see Lando. He smiled.

"Sorry for keeping it a secret from you." He whispered to not bother the sleepyhead.

"It was not very well kept, but I'll forgive you for denying it when I asked." I brushed his hair off his face. "Don't lie to me again."

"I won't." He paused. "Did you enjoy it?" I nodded.

"Very much, you?"

"Very much." We smiled.

"By the way, why you decided to get married drunk in Vegas?"

"Because I love you." He looked at Lando, as if that I love you was him too, and I didn't mind.

"I hope that nobody in PR gets even close to discover this."

"If they do I'll simply confirm that I'm the luckiest man alive."

[miakat9]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Even though you agreed to forgive Oscar, you realize quickly that nothing can go back to how it was before, and some old flames never die.

WORD COUNT: 10.1k

WARNINGS: Lando is very mean to reader behind her back, also reader is lowkey so dumb and frustrating but that's intentional.

TAGLIST: @at-a-rax-ia  @henna006 @linnygirl09 @cassielikereading @judelina @supertrashbread @fastandcurious16 @widow-cevans @czennieszn @irisesinthegarden @wierdflowerpower @sweetwh0re @reginalaufeyson-holmes @honethatty12 @suns3treading @obxstiles @mimiastroos @mrs-reeves-17 @milkysoop @amalialeclerc @starksztony @llando4norris @ginsengi @angxlzinthesky @makanirock05 @htpssgavi @lilypat @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @ameliaalvarez06

A/N: A few things: (1) This one is for Billie. The Grammys did her DIRTY. (2) I realized I have horrifically messed up the pacing since real F1 races are so close together so we’re gonna pretend like there are a few weeks in between Imola and Monaco because this is my fanfic and I make the rules. (3) If this is bad I’m sorry, my life is a mess right now and I’m so sorry it took me so long to get this out to you guys! (4) I went back and found a few people that accidently got left out of the taglist, my bad! I’ve linked the previous chapters below so you can catch up (5) As always, I hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

From your balcony, you sighed in contentment as you heard the gentle lapping of waves from the endless expanse of water that stretched out before you. There were yachts teeming with giggling models, the chattering of French spoken on the streets below, the buzz of such a city of opulence. It was music to your ears. 

The view of Monaco was one you never thought you’d get tired of. The place, though so new, also felt so much like home to you. The streets were paved with hope and memory, the water brimming with joy yet to be.

All of it was yours. Because of Oscar.

Yet again, his name came to your mind to taunt you. 

Maybe taunt was too strong of a word. You weren’t quite sure. You weren’t sure of much of anything, anymore.

Your interactions with your friend had been…awkward, to say the least. You had made a vow to yourself to forgive him, but he seemed…a little too excited to be forgiven, if that made any sense. He wanted to go back to the way that things had been before all of this, but how was that possible?

You had explored every inch of each other’s bodies. You had held each other in the heat of passion. How are you supposed to act as if none of that ever happened?

His words echoed in your brain. I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve. Not right now, at least. 

You had never even asked Oscar to be official. The thought was too far-fetched. I just want my friend back in my life. Like all of that never happened.

Well, at least one of you got what you wanted.

But then again, you truly didn’t know what you wanted from him anymore. To Oscar’s credit, you weren’t exactly making it easy to get back in your good graces.  

The one thing you had been sure you wanted was more independence. No more living in an apartment that Oscar owned, or letting him jetset you across the world to his races and paying for all your expensive dinners.

No, it was time to be your own woman. That meant leaving Monaco.

So you took advantage of every morning you still had in this city that you’d grown to love, knowing that soon, you’d have to leave.

“You don’t have to go.”

Oscar’s voice floated into your ears. He had practically moved in; he was trying to sell his larger apartment, and the place was constantly swarming with real estate agents and potential buyers. Even if it wasn’t so hectic, he hated being there alone, and you refused to go back there with him. Not after the confrontation with Lily back in Imola.

“You don’t have to leave,” he repeated. “I know you’re thinking about it.”

Sometimes it felt like Oscar could read your mind.

“Yes I do,” you responded, sipping your tea, not shifting your gaze from the water. 

“I can just give you the apartment, if you’re worried about it being in your name. I can pay the gift tax too.”

“No,” you whispered. 

“I have more money that I’d ever know what to do with, YN—”

“I don’t,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “So I can’t stay here.”

Oscar knew his arguments were all in vain. You were nothing if not stubborn.

“I need you here,” he said.

“I’ll be just across the border.” It was more than likely; you could probably get a decent apartment in Nice within your budget.

“And what about at my races?”

“I’ll always come to Monaco.” You were also contemplating quitting your job; you hadn’t said it aloud yet, but Oscar knew. You were just waiting until you found something stable to quit. It was only a matter of time.

He was already pushing his luck. You walked past him back into the apartment and the Aussie sighed. 

He didn’t have long to fix all that he had fucked up. 

Especially considering your newfound friendship with Lando, although you had done your best to keep that hidden. Something about it felt…wrong. Like a betrayal. 

Morning pretty girl, read the message from the Brit on your phone. You smiled but rolled your eyes. Lando’s playful flirting and banter was comical to you. Of course, it meant nothing. Lando wasn’t your type, and you weren’t his. 

You shot him back a good morning text of your own, before setting your phone down in the living room to clean up your breakfast. Your phone buzzed again, and Oscar grabbed it.

“You got a message from…Lando?”

“Put my phone down, Oscar.”

“Why are you texting Lando?” 

“Am I not allowed to have friends?”

You walked back into the living room, where Oscar handed you your phone. You plopped down on the couch, opening the device to see what he had texted you. 

You up for a coffee later today? There’s a new cafe I’ve been wanting to try.

You texted back quickly, affirming that you’d be there. 

“What did he want?”

“Oscar, seriously? I’m grown.”

“I’m just curious.”

“He just wanted to get coffee later today.”   

“He asked you on a date?” His face was red with impending anger.

“It’s not a date. It’s coffee. Amongst friends and coworkers, which we are. You weren’t this worried when you all left me with him in Italy,” you said, staring into the stitches on the decorative pillows on your couch.

“Things were different then.” 

His words were dripping with some unrecognizable emotion—regret, maybe, or sadness. You couldn’t be sure. But it startled you.

So you ignored it, instead grabbing your laptop and headphones before sitting at your kitchen table. “I have to get this stuff done,” you said, and Oscar just nodded. 

He had his own work to take care of. 

Later that afternoon, as you wrapped up your work and got ready to meet Lando at the cafe, you were already feeling Oscar’s absence throughout your small apartment.

It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place; you wanted to stay in Monaco, to stay by Oscar’s side, for everything to stay the way that they had always been. But you knew that you just couldn’t.

“Why?” Lando asked, sipping on some fancy tea ordered from the admittedly adorable cafe in a hidden corner of Monte Carlo. Despite your better judgements, you had confided in him about your anxieties regarding the future. “Why would you need to leave so badly? I don’t get it. Just let him pay for all your shit. It’s the least he can do.”

“No, I’ve relied on him for too long,” you answered. “I just need to be more of myself. We’ve always been so…intertwined.”

“I know you two are close.”

“No, it’s more than that. It’s like…our lives are just, I don’t know, connected? Like I didn’t know where my story ended and his began. It’s hard to explain.”

“You must be heartbroken.”

You raised a brow. That wasn’t quite the word you’d use. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, to have all of this happen. You must miss him a lot.” 

“Oh, well, he practically lives with me,” you laughed. “This all started because we got into it before Miami, but we’ve made up now. It’s just hard having to navigate all the logistics.” 

“Oh,” he replied, his voice tinged with a snark that you weren’t quite sure what to make of. He raised his eyebrows and took another sip of his tea.

“What?” you asked. 

“Well, it’s just…I mean, that was quick.” He wouldn’t meet your gaze. “Back in Imola, you seemed pretty pissed at him.” 

“I was. But,” you paused, swirling a small spoon around your own drink, “That crash was bad. Things like it just put everything in perspective, you know?”

“So everything’s fine between the two of you now, because he hit a wall?” Lando chuckled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

You looked up, your brows furrowed in confusion. “Really?”

“I just think you deserve better. You shouldn’t have to beg someone to love you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek before replying, “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but that’s not what’s happening at all.”

“It isn’t?”

“Who told you any of this?” you asked. 

You didn’t know that Oscar had told him everything, that drunken night after Miami. And what you didn’t know, Lando decided, couldn’t hurt you. He liked having the upper hand, dropping little hints that his knowledge was far beyond what anyone thought. “Why does that matter? It’s obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.”

“Just like it was so obvious that Oscar was cheating on me with Lily?”  You looked back down to the now cold contents of your cup.

Lando was silent for a minute. “Things don’t have to be like this, YN.”

“It’s funny, cause that’s exactly what Oscar told me.”

“Why do you let him get away with all this shit?”

“Do you really think I just welcomed him back into my life like nothing happened? Forgiveness isn’t that simple. Just because we’re not screaming at each other doesn’t mean that everything is fine. It’s… complicated.”

“I’m sure it is. But can I ask you a question?”

You just tilted your head in response, mentally preparing for whatever curveball he’d throw you next. You liked the banter with Lando; it was challenging, like a back and forth dance, or a chess game.

Lando leaned in close, lowering his voice. “You said Oscar practically moved in with you. Where does he sleep at night?”

You laughed at the implication. “I’m not sleeping with him anymore.” 

“Anymore?” he asked.

You paused, your smile fading. Lando’s smile spread ear to ear. 

You had lost the game, finally revealing the truth without even intending to. 

“You’re good, Norris,” you said, swirling your spoon around the cup just to give your hands something to do. “Too good. You know, Oscar’s not too fond of me being here.”

“I’m sure he’s not,” Lando replied. “I’m sure he tells you all sorts of horrible things about me.”

“Are they true?” you asked, though Oscar had told you nothing of the sort. His hesitations came off more as paranoid ramblings rather than juicy gossip or evidence-based skepticism. 

Lando leaned in and smirked at you. “Why don’t you roll over in bed tonight and ask him?”

Your phone buzzed as you fumbled in your bag for your keys outside your front door. You spotted the lanyard, and held your phone in one hand as you closed your bag in the other.

It was really nice to see you today. I’d like to do it again. 

You let out a half laugh, half exhale. Lando was… fun. Dangerous, in a way. He had a mysterious air about him that surprised you, and it was intoxicating. 

You knew you needed to be more careful about what you let slip. He seemed to know every detail, all coming from some phantom source you couldn’t trace. Being a social media manager, you were acutely aware of how easily words could get misconstrued and livelihoods could be destroyed. 

But so was Lando, and after all, it wasn’t like he was a stranger to controversy.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and locked your phone. You’d get to that text later. For now, you had a seemingly endless mountain of work—domestic and professional—to tackle.

But as you set down your bag, you heard the familiar sound of your kitchen sink running.

Oscar was…doing dishes?

You made your way into the kitchen and stood in the entryway. “You didn’t have to do that,” you said. “I was just about to take care of it.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. 

“You should be, like, training or something, not doing my dishes.” You smiled. He didn’t.

“How’d your afternoon with Lando go?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink, facing you. His expression was unreadable.

Truthfully? Odd. Exhilarating. Anxiety-inducing. But you couldn’t say that to Oscar now. 

And as you saw his imposing form, even sloped away from you, the words that the Brit had planted in your head echoed. 

The more time you spent with Lando, the more tense you were with Oscar. You recognized that. 

“It was fine,” you said. You guessed that was the right word to use, at least.

Oscar hung his head low, studying the floor. He was nervous. “Can I tell you something, friend to friend?”

“What?”

“I don’t really like you spending time with Lando.”

You just looked at him, stopped in your tracks by his audacity. “Are you serious?”

“You know he’s up to nothing good, right? Conveniently hitting you up when we’re fighting for the championship, and then he ran brake checked me into the fucking wall in Imola—”

“Oh my God, you are serious.”

“I don’t know what he’s told you, but you can’t trust him.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds coming from you?”

“YN, just hear me out—”

“Now now, Oscar,” you said, grabbing your headphones and laptop and walking out onto your balcony.  

You took a deep breath before slipping your headphones on and trudging through the work.

You closed the laptop as the sun began to set over Monaco. Oscar walked out onto the patio and sat next to you. 

“I’m going to say this once,” he said. “Please just listen to me, YN. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” 

“I know,” he said. “But I know a liar when I see one. He doesn’t love you, YN. He’s just using you.” 

You were digging your nails into your palm. 

“I don't know what his game is, but we’re all just pawns in it,” he said, his tone more frantic.

“I need to go to bed,” you said. ‘I have to be up early,” you walked past him into the apartment, but he grabbed you by the sleeve.

“YN, listen to me!”

You turned around to face him, your anger now fully unleashed. “Has it ever occurred to you that someone might just like me for me? Can you even imagine a man loving me for more than my body? He’s never even tried to get in my pants.”

“I see the way he looks at you.”

“And so what if he does?”

“He’s trying to drive a wedge between us.”

“You’re the only one driving a wedge between us, Oscar.”

“YN, I’m just saying this because I’m worried about you! You shouldn’t trust him.”

“And I should trust you instead?”

Oscar paused. “YN, I love you and—”

“Stop. Just…stop. I actually do have to go to bed.” You wiped your eyes, swatting away the faintest trace of tears that had come up. “I have to go look at an apartment tomorrow.”

Oscar bit his lip and huffed. “I thought you had forgiven me, YN.”

“I have.”

No. At the hospital, in Imola. I asked you to forgive me so we could be friends again and you said yes. Then you go and start flirting with my teammate and saying you're going to leave Monaco. I don't understand why you’re still so mad at me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oscar, none of this is about you!” you exclaimed. “I mean, it is, but this isn’t some petty act of revenge. This is about the fact that I need my own life.”

“I used to be part of your life.”

“You used to be my entire life,” you said, and laughed. “Shit, you still are. You don’t get it.”

“I guess I don’t.”

You both paused, soaking in the tension of the scene.

“And you didn’t ask for my forgiveness,” you said. “You asked to act like none of this ever happened. I can’t do that. We…crossed a line. Things are different now.”

The tiniest part of you wanted to hop back on the other side of that line and drag Oscar into your bedroom right now. You craved the feeling of him stretching you, your hands clawing up his back or burying themselves in his hair as he buried his tongue— 

“You said never again,” he whispered. “But we both still feel the same, don’t we?” 

“I really need to go to bed.”

That night, Oscar took the couch. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t sleep. 

As you tossed and turned, you considered Oscar’s word against Lando’s, Lando’s against Oscar’s. 

Lando had said you shouldn’t forgive Oscar. And to his credit, Oscar was making that very difficult. But had you not given your best friend your word?

And what Oscar had said about Lando; he wasn’t trustworthy, he was just using you as a pawn. You hated to admit it, but it was probably true. Hell, Lando would never go for a girl like you. But the back and forth of your banter brought you a thrill you hadn’t felt in months. 

Shit, you had never texted him back. Did you really want to see him again?

You didn’t know how long this charade could go on, until Lando got whatever it is that he really wanted. But Oscar’s words still burned you with fury. 

I’d love to. 

You rode the train to Nice like a zombie, traversing the shitty apartment with lead feet, yawning the entire time. You weren’t missing much. 

Your phone buzzed with a text from Oscar, and you read it on the train ride back. 

I’m sorry for last night.

It’s fine, you replied.

Almost instantly, another message. No, it’s not. I should have just minded my own business. 

You were too exhausted to think of a reply, needing all your energy to make it from the train station back to your apartment in Monaco unscathed and collapse on the bed. 

“How was the apartment?” Oscar asked from the bathroom, preoccupied with his shaving. 

“Shitty,” you mumbled, face into the pillow. 

Oscar looked over. “Sleep badly last night?”

“You don’t even know,” you huffed. “Wait, where are you going?” 

“Buyer,” he said simply, sparing your exhausted brain the boring details of real estate management. 

You made some unintelligible noise in response. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll wake you up when I’m back, yeah?”

You handed him a thumbs up as you pulled the covers over you and fell asleep within minutes. 

Oscar would have given anything to be back in that bed, curled up next to you. Instead, he was inside his old, empty apartment, with Lily. 

It had been in her name too, after all. She had to be there for the sale, though neither were too happy to see each other. They looked over documents wordlessly, shuffling the papers back and forth between them, just anxious to get it over with. 

As the lawyers and real estate agents packed up their belongings, Lily sighed, clearly unamused. “It's a bit ridiculous that I had to fly all the way to Monaco for that, no?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Oscar said, doing his best to make idle conversation. “So, how are things at work?”

“Fine,” she replied, her lips pursed. “How’s the season going?”

“You haven’t been watching?” he asked. 

“I’m busy on Sundays.”

“Ah.” The tension was thick. “It’s been okay.” 

Lily bit the inside of her cheek, determining how far she wanted to take her next move. “How’s YN?”

“Fine,” he replied, too quick and sharp to be genuine.

“That’s not what I heard,” she said. “I heard you made a move on her days after we broke up, and she dumped you because she felt so bad about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oscar said, a reflex more than a conscious choice to lie.

“Yes you do,” she replied. “And honestly, you all deserve each other.” Her words dripped with venom.

“Why do you care?” Oscar replied, his polite exterior broken by the confrontation. “Isn’t that exactly why you left? But now you’re mad because I actually did it.”

“I thought you were better than that. I wish you could have proven me wrong,” she said. “Oh my God, I was so stupid. Lando was right,” she said, bringing her palm to her forehead and fixing her gaze on the floor. 

“Wh— Lando?”

“Why do you think I finally got the nerve to tell you how I felt? Lando knew you were cheating. And I don’t care what you or her say, I don’t believe you anymore. There’s no way you just…crawled into her bed 4 days after I left you. You had to have been cheating.”

“Lily, I never cheated on you. Why would Lando tell you that?” 

“Because it was happening right in front of my eyes! And for so long I just ignored it and pushed it all down.” Her eyes were prickling up with tears, the effect of the emotion being so fresh in the presence of her now ex-lover. “I just told myself that you all were friends. It was normal for your boyfriend to look at his best friend like that. Oh, yes, it’s so normal for your boyfriend to bring his girl best friend on every vacation, every night out, every trip home! I can’t believe that your fucking teammate had to be the one to open my eyes.” 

“Lily,” Oscar repeated, “I never, never, cheated on you. Yes, I was a horrible boyfriend. And yes,” he paused and sighed before continuing, ‘YN and I… it’s complicated. But never before you left. I don’t know what the hell Lando is telling you but it’s a lie.”

“You’re the only liar. You and YN. She acts like she’s so honest, but I know. You had to have been cheating. You all wanted each other for years.”

“Lily—”

“Don’t, Oscar,” she said, wiping her eyes. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. What’s done is done. I just hope you two are happy.” Lily grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter and swiftly left the apartment, leaving behind only the soft clicking of her heels against the tile of the hallway, and the echo of what once was, reverberating around the apartment before slowly fading into the quiet of the afternoon. 

Back at your place, Oscar entered quietly, careful not to wake you. All he wanted was to sleep.

He slowly took off his shoes and jacket, sinking into the bed next to you. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep; his mind was racing, his nervous system wired. But he wanted to rest, to feel the warmth and weight of your sleeping body next to his own. For just a moment, the world could stop, and he would feel okay again. 

But it couldn’t be. You had always been a light sleeper. The mere sound of his opening and closing the front door had caused you to stir. The feeling of his weight down on the bed led you to rise, stretching your arms about your head before rubbing your eyes.

Oscar couldn’t help it; his eyes glanced to the exposed skin of your stomach from where your shirt rode up when he stretched. You had said no more sex, and he respected that. But it didn’t mean that he wanted you any less. 

“What time is it?” you mumbled. 

“Almost five,” he answered.

“Oh, shit,” you said. You hadn’t expected to sleep this long. You looked over to Oscar, who was hiding his face in his hands. “You can have the bed, I’ll go make food.”

You swung your legs over the bed, but Oscar reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Stay,” he said. “Please.”

That woke you up quick. Oscar could feel the blood pulse through your veins as he held your wrist, a whispered plea for comfort.

“Osc…”

“Lily was there. At the apartment.”

“I don’t think—”

“She said…God, YN, I feel like I’m going fucking crazy.”

“Let go of my arm, please.”

Oscar awkwardly let you go, not realizing that he had essentially kept you pinned to the spot. You wordless rose and left the room for the kitchen.

As you stirred the pot of food to a simmer, you watched the little bubbles rise to the top, like the little kernels of emotion that ran through you. If it were up to you, you’d close the lid on them and leave them forever. But then the house could burn down.

What an apt metaphor.

But truly, you knew you were trying to outrun something, a force so strong you couldn’t ignore it. 

Love, lust, desire? It couldn’t be named. Unfortunately, it followed you around the apartment. 

“How are we friends if we can’t even talk?” Oscar said, having followed you to the kitchen, now standing in the doorway. What he was doing was a bit unfair, cornering you here when you couldn’t really leave. But what else could he do?

“You can talk to me,” you said. “Just not in my bed.”

You refused to look at the Aussie, instead putting all your focus into chopping the vegetables, drowning out his words in the sharp sounds of the knife tearing through the onion and shallots.

“Lily was there. She told me that Lando told her that I cheated on her with you.”

You snorted. “What are we, back in middle school? He said, she said?”

“Well, considering she left me over it, I don’t find it very funny.”

“Oscar, you never cheated. Everyone knows that.” 

“Lando is—”

“Who cares what Lando says?” You used the flat blade of the knife to swipe the chopped vegetables off the cutting board and into the pot.  

“I care!”

“Do you blame him for thinking we were hooking up?”

“I blame him for putting thoughts in my girlfriend’s head that weren’t true.” 

You put the knife on the counter with a thud. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Oscar paused, mentally cursing himself for the slip of words. “I’m just saying, he’s going around saying things without any regard to what damage they may cause.”

“You sound paranoid,” you said, grinding salt and pepper into the mixture. 

“I just…” Oscar grasped for the right words, careful to not let his frustration take over, “I would just really appreciate it if you don’t tell him anything. Because he already took her from me.” 

You put the lid back on the pot and turned the heat down. “The male audacity never ceases to amaze me.”

“What?”

“Oscar, she didn’t leave you because Lando was poisoning her thoughts, or whatever. She left because she was unhappy.”

“She left because she felt threatened by you. Because of what Lando said.”

You finally turned around to face him, your cheeks now red with frustration. “It only took you four days to prove her right! This isn’t about Lando. This is about the fact that you still can’t accept what you did. With her or with me.”

“You wanted it, too,” he responded, his voice now low and husky. “And you still want it. Deep down, you know it.”

You swallowed, suddenly noticing how his arms filled out the sleeves of his shirt just right, and how the blood rushed to his cheeks while he was angry, painting his face a delightful shade of blush. 

“That’s irrelevant.” 

“If I’m guilty, then so are you. Because you imagined every second of it.”

“Not like this,” you whispered. “And you did too.”

He stepped forward, closing the gap between you two. “Stop talking to Lando.”

Your voice rose to a normal level, relieved by the changed tension. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

God, how badly you wanted him to push you up against the wall and take you right then and there. No, you couldn’t. But he was right.

You had wanted this. You were guilty.

It was eating you alive. 

The Monaco Grand Prix. The epitome of glitz and glamor, wealth and class, speed and history. It was everything that you and Oscar loved about the sport of Formula 1, right from the comfort of  your backyard.

Well, not for much longer. But that was a thought you were trying to avoid. 

You had looked at a couple more apartments in your budget, only to be disappointed by all of them. Of course, nothing could beat the picturesque view you had right outside your living room every morning. 

If it were up to you, you would have watched the race from your balcony, but duty called. You put on your best face of professionalism for the weekend.

It turns out, going back to being “just friends” was a paradox. You couldn’t; not after the unhealed wounds, the ghost of phantom touches and unforgettable nights that still haunted both of you. 

But even when you pretended, you couldn’t deny the sexual tension that underlied every interaction. 

You had almost forgotten that feeling; it lingered after your first encounter with Oscar, where you had taken each other’s virginity, but it had been different then. Only a few days and a handful of awkward texts before things just went back to normal. He went back to the UK, you went back to school, he met Lily, and the rest was history.

But now, it was inescapable, breaking into every crack and crevice of the apartment, in every breath between you two that held a second too long of eye contact.

It was torture. At least professionalism was somewhat of a reprieve. 

You raised your camera up to take a shot of Oscar walking out of the McLaren garage, thankful to be able to hide behind your lens. Through it, you could see the strained outline of his muscles underneath his fireproof shirt. His hair was glistening with sweat, and his chest heaved, letting out a frustrated sigh at the results of quali.

“Care to get a picture of the pole sitter, YN?” you heard behind you, and turned to see Lando’s cheeky grin as he shook his hair. His discarded balaclava was in one hand, and he ran his other through his loose curls, balancing his helmet on his hip.

You let out a small huff of a laugh and snapped a quick picture. 

“Let me see,” he said, walking next to you. You held up the small screen for him to see.

“Wow, you make me look good,” he teased.

“Oh no,” you bantered back, “that’s the magic of editing.”

“No way. The only Oscar can look that good on Instagram is because you’re behind the camera.”

You laughed out of reflex at the crude joke. “Actually,” you said, “most pics I take don’t make it to social media.” Lando raised an eyebrow. You continued, “Yeah, most of what we post is from the actual photographers. Leave the beautification to the professionals.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Well, I just like to take pictures, but I’m not very good at it. Most of my actual work is all the boring stuff with the merch.”

Lando’s grin returned. “So all those pictures you took of me at Imola, was that just because you wanted to look at my face, huh?”

“I’d need more than just photoshop to make you look pretty, Norris.” You both knew the joke was false. Lando was perfect—tanned skin, chiseled body, brown coils catching the sunlight and caused golden highlights to cascade through his locks. You couldn’t deny that Lando Norris was fucking hot.

“Ouch! And here I thought you liked me,” he joked. “Considering I’m taking you out to dinner, and all.”

You looked over your shoulder, checking for any other McLaren drivers who may be listening. But Oscar was far out of sight. 

“Just a little friendly meal between colleagues,” you said, a tense smile coming to your face.

“Keep telling yourself that, love,” he said, before being called over to the media tent. 

You gave him another smile as he walked off, but truthfully, you weren’t exactly excited. You weren’t quite sure what to make of Lando, especially given Oscar’s reservations. Getting this close to him, especially in public, was…dangerous. 

You felt that familiar knot of anxiety in your stomach. Maybe Oscar was right.

But Lando turned around and flashed you his award winning smile and a wink, and you giggled out of reflex. Maybe Oscar’s paranoia was wearing off on you. 

It didn’t matter now. You had a job to do. 

Which was very hard to do, considering that no one could find Oscar after he left the media pen. 

Unbeknownst to you, Oscar was back in his driver’s room, doing anything he could to avoid losing his mind.

Quali had gone horribly. At a track like Monaco, where overtaking was so scarce, he had essentially sighed away potential points. And to make it all worse, Lando had gotten pole, and to celebrate, he had stood in front of Oscar’s own garage, chatting you up without a care in the world.

Oscar couldn’t even bear to see it. He had trudged off to the media pen, quickly gave his statement, then booked it to the room to be alone for a while.

But it felt like he was going crazy. He couldn’t relax, his leg bouncing up and down at a fervent pace, his breaths strained. Was he having a panic attack? This must be close to it.

But no, it wasn’t panic. It was anger. He felt like a cringy teenager, wanting to punch a wall, ro drive a car way too fast (as if he didn’t already do that for a living), or… no. He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t indulge his most unhealthy coping mechanism. Not now.

But he felt all the blood rush down south at even the mere thought of the last time he had you in his driver’s room. 

No. No, no, he said to himself again and again. You had said no sex. He didn’t want you to feel used. But just the memory of your mouth on him, the curves of your body underneath his own, was enough to rile him up.

There were too many people outside. He could hear their voices outside the door. The whole damn country of Monaco was too small; there was nowhere to hide from his urges, or from you, for that matter.

Not that he usually wanted to. But he had a little problem to take care of.

His phone buzzed. A text from you. 

Where are you?

What was he supposed to say? Hiding from you, because I’m so stupidly aggravated and horny that I can’t even be around you for fear of ruining our friendship?

He let out an angry groan into a pillow to muffle his frustrations. It wasn’t just the physical aspect that he missed; he missed your warmth, the comforting weight of you beside him in the bed, the tentative way you were always just an arm length’s close, never more, never less.

He should have held you. He should have made you feel loved and not used. It haunted him every day. And yes, he was paying the price for it.

“Congrats on pole, man!” he heard, the voice clear enough to indicate that someone was outside his door.

“Thanks,” Lando’s voice replied, before he heard the familiar sound of the door around the corner opening and closing. 

Yeah, he was definitely paying the price.

Oscar contemplated not going back to your place tonight. 

He still had a few days where he could sleep in his old apartment before the sale fully went through. On one hand, the place was empty and quiet, devoid of life and love. He’d be alone with his thoughts—for better or worse.

On the other hand, he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep anywhere except your bed or couch. He had gotten too used to the familiarity of your apartment. And he wanted to savor every second of you living in Monaco, before your inevitable departure. 

He finally decided against a night of solitude. By the time he finally left the circuit, you were nearly ready to go to bed.  

“Jesus, Osc, where have you been?” you asked, and you tried to ignore how his eyes traced the bare skin of your thighs in your sleep shorts.

“At the track,” he said.

“Well, no shit,” you said, “but no one could find you. I texted you and you never responded.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Quali was just…shit.”

He seemed reluctant to answer where he had actually been, so you didn’t press the issue, but you couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room much longer. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. You sat on your couch next to him, where Oscar had his head buried in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“I can get you—” 

“I’m fine,” he said again, this time quicker and more dismissive. 

“Osc…”

“I just wanna go to bed,” he whispered.

“Okay,” you said. “You can take the bed tonight.”

It broke your heart to see him so down. Things were nearly as bad as when Lily had first left him. It scared you—there was only one way that you were able to really help him in that scenario, and you couldn’t go there.

“Just let me grab my phone charger,” you said, getting up to go to the room. He followed you, walking like a zombie. When you turned to leave, he moved to let you walk past, then sat on the bed, hunched over. 

You stopped in the doorway, looking him up and down.  

He looked up at you, locking eyes, and it took everything in you not to scoop him up in your arms and kiss him. He looked so…pathetic, sad, something you couldn’t quite name.

You really needed to find a new apartment soon. Or kick him out. 

You couldn’t do either.

Amongst the many things you could not do was sleep. It was 3 in the morning. Against your better judgement, you slipped into your room, praying that Oscar was still asleep.

You just wanted to see him. To gaze upon his face, smoothed with rest, imbued with the peace of sleep despite the stress of the day. Maybe when he was asleep, you could really pretend that none of this had ever happened. 

As you softly slipped next to him under the covers, his eyelids fluttered open and met yours.

“You can’t sleep either?” he softly whispered, to which you shook your head. You adjusted, rolling over to your side to face him, curling up into the blankets as cozy as you could get. His eyes never left your form. 

Neither of you knew what to do. You felt like strangers.

You had been avoiding any real discussions like the plague. But seeing him now, so vulnerable, you finally broke. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?” you whispered.

“I don’t want to argue,” he replied.

“We won’t. I’ll listen, I promise.”

His eyes drafted down to your lips, then back up to your eyes to meet your gaze. You both knew what was going unsaid. But still he spoke, saying, “I’m lonely. I miss Lily and I miss you. I know that I did this, and that’s why it hurts even more. And I’m so scared of losing you forever.”

His eyes welled up with tears as he continued. “I don’t like this,” he said. “Feeling so far from you, feeling like strangers. I wish I could have shown you how I felt earlier. I wish I didn’t hurt you and drive you away. And I know it’s all my fault. But it hurts.”

“Oscar…” you began, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. But the words didn’t find you. 

“The championship is all I have left, and I can’t even focus because of fucking Lando. And I’m scared that he’s up to something and that he’s going to hurt you too, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“There is something…odd about him,” you said. “I get what you mean.”

“Can I ask you something?” Oscar said, and you nodded. “Does he make you happy?”

“It’s not like that,” you replied. “It’s… I don’t know, like a back and forth. I don’t know what his aim is. It feels like a game. But it kind of scares me.”

“Then why do you keep talking to him?”

“I don’t know.” That was a lie. You did know. “I guess because I feel like I can’t talk to you.”

Oscar bit the inside of his cheek. He understood what you meant. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t like a knife to the chest.

“It’s not…like this. I know we can talk like this. But it’s…” you stopped, swallowing hard. You had to say it. Somebody had to say it. 

Maybe you’d regret it in the morning. But you couldn’t stop now. 

“It’s like…” you began, choosing your words carefully, “I wanted you for so long. And then I had you, but it…it wasn’t right.” Your eyes drifted downward, tracing the soft sliver of light that rested on Oscar’s exposed arms. “I don’t know how not to want. But I can’t want you anymore. Because now I can have you too easily.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. 

“Yes, you do,” you responded. “You said it the other day. We both want it. But we can’t do it right.”

You spoke around the issue, carefully tiptoeing around the discussion of…desire? Lust? Wanting, you had called it. Every word you had said was true. He had felt it earlier in the day. You were feeling it too. 

He could change everything. He could just reach out his hand and touch you. But he was frozen, and so were you. 

“What’s so wrong about it?” he asked. 

“You didn’t touch me like you loved me. You hurt me. And I loved the way it hurt. But…”

“I’ll make love to you right now if you’ll let me. I’d do it right, show you how I really feel.”

The air around you was electric with intensity, like the very first night that he touched you. In the same darkness, you had finally gotten what you so desperately wanted. And you could have it now, if not for one thing.

“I know you would,” you whispered, “and you don’t even know how badly I want it. But… what about her?”

“Her?” he asked, confused.

“Lily.”

The silence that filled the room was heavy, and it threatened to suffocate both of you.

“Lily left you. Because of me,” you said.

“Because Lando was putting thoughts in her head.”

“Thoughts that weren’t far off the truth.”

“So, what? You’re going to deny yourself what you always wanted, for years, because she was here first? Because I fucked up?”

Oscar’s wording made it sound so trivial. And truthfully, you had been there first. 

“How did you feel when you first saw Lando talk to me?” you asked. 

“Pissed. Like I wanted to run him off the track.”

“That’s how Lily felt for years. And she didn’t say anything, and we lied to her and to ourselves until the very end.”

“It’s not the same, though. You know that.”

“The details don’t matter. What matters is that the guilt is eating me alive. I feel like I’m drowning. Even if things between us were better…I don’t want to do that to her.”

“What if she never forgives us? Are you just going to let that ruin our friendship?”

You looked away from him, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. You couldn’t answer his question.

“I feel like,” you said, “whatever Lando is up to, I know it’s not good, but I deserve it. I deserve him.”

“That’s the most stupid logic I’ve ever heard.” Oscar replied. You laughed. Oscar didn’t. 

He reached out and touched your cheek, causing your eyes to dart back to his. No matter how badly you wanted to avoid him, you couldn’t look away from his gaze that pierced right through you. He saw something deeper. He saw you, in a way no one else could or would. And it was terrifying. 

“YN,” he whispered. “Forget what everyone else said, forget all the messy feelings. What do you want?”

I want you.

That’s what you would have said, if you were not a coward, if you could truly let him in and even try to imagine a world in which your emotions and desires didn’t feel like an ocean that you were close to drowning in. 

“I don’t know,” you replied. That was a lie. You knew it. He knew it. He knew that you knew that he knew it. He just looked at you, biting the inside of his cheek. You wouldn’t admit it. Not after everything that had happened.

In that way, things had gone back to normal.

You turned over to stretch, seeing the first rays of sunlight tinge your window the slightest shade of pink.

“We should get some sleep. Goodnight, Oscar,” you said, pulling the blanket higher and closing your eyes for a brief sleep.

Come the next morning—really, only a few hours later—Oscar’s anger from the previous day had faded to a depression.  All he wanted was for you to hold him, or for him to hold you, but your words still hung heavy in the air. 

This was your punishment, for both of you. 

But by the time he finally dragged himself out of the warm comfort of your bed, you were already nearly ready to head out the door.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you joked, reaching your hand up to tousle his already messy hair, and he melted into the touch. “Are you ready to show them all the Piastri overtake masterclass?” 

“I feel dead,” he mumbled, and you sighed. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“It’s okay,” he said, as he yawned into a cup of coffee. “I’m glad we talked.”

Oscar’s reference brought forth an awkward silence that didn’t dissipate until you eventually left for the track, ready again to dawn your thin veneer of professionalism. 

Unfortunately it was raining, and the race had to be delayed. That meant hunkering down in the McLaren garage with Oscar—and Lando.

If looks could kill, Lando would have died ten times over as the two drivers waited for the rain to pass. 

You hovered near Oscar’s side of the garage for the sake of appearances. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You were his social media manager, it made sense for you to hover around him, always ready to capture the next candid shot.

But truthfully, you couldn’t shake the pit in the feeling of your stomach every time you caught Lando looking at you from the corner of your eye. And while you pretended to be oblivious, Oscar didn’t. 

“Okay guys, clear out the garage,” you heard from across the room, as the booming voice of Zak Brown trudged his way inside. “FIA decided that right now was the perfect time for a surprise inspection!”

His voice dripped with sarcastic annoyance, even more than his clothes dripped with rainwater. All non essential personnel—including drivers—needed to leave the garage at once.

You walked along, on your way to find a random spot in the paddock to hunker down. That was, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

“YN!” Lando called, smiling when you turned to greet him. His cheeky grin brought butterflies and nausea to your stomach. “You can warm up in my driver’s room if you want.”

You looked over Lando’s shoulder and locked eyes with Oscar, who was close enough to hear every word. If he had been in his car at the time, Lando would have been roadkill.

“Oh, thanks, but I’ve got to get to the paddock and make sure the new guy hasn’t drowned our camera,” you said, a polite and professional smile across your face. 

“No wor—” He was cut off by Oscar’s shoulder bumping into the Brit as he passed. “Oh, hi Oscar, my bad.”

“I should go,” you said, swiftly continuing in the path towards the paddock. You didn’t want to be around for what you knew was happening next.

But if Lando also knew, it didn’t dissuade him from following Oscar back to his driver’s room. 

“Go away, Lando,” the Aussie warned as he stomped down the hallway.

“No, I don’t think I will. I think you’ve got something to say to me.” 

“I think you should shut your fucking mouth and leave YN and I alone.” 

Lando ran ahead of him, blocking the door to Oscar’s driver room. “Why? Why should I leave her alone when she keeps telling me yes, hm?”

“What?”

“I’m just saying, if she really wanted me to leave her alone, she wouldn’t have agreed to go to dinner with me tonight, would she?”

Oscar was dumbfounded by Lando’s claim, and his first instinct was to refute it. But after the conversation last night, he couldn’t put it past you to have accepted his offer of a date. Why you did this, he didn’t know. He couldn’t understand how you let your guilt lead you to such self-sabotaging decisions.

Actually, he could. It wasn’t like he was any better.

“You’re taking advantage of her,” Oscar said, his voice stern. “You don’t love her.”

Lando laughed. “Of course I don’t. She knows it, though. Do you really think she’s that stupid? Well, I guess she kind of is, ‘cause she’s playing right into my hands even though I know she doesn’t trust me. ”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I know it fucks with your head and drives you insane. No matter what you tell her, she won't listen to you. That’s the funniest part. She knows you’re right and she’s going to do the worst possible thing anyway, because she thinks she’s so self-righteous. It’s hilarious. You can tell her every word I say and that won’t stop her from being right where I want her. So you'll just get to watch me use her until she's got nothing else to give me.”

Oscar crossed the short distance between them and grabbed Lando by the shirt. “I swear to God, if you hurt her, I will run you off the track until you're nothing but a spare car part.”

Lando laughed again at his teammate’s warning. “Why are you so mad? I'm not doing anything worse than what you did.”

Oscar released him. “That is not what happened between us,” he sneered.

Lando continued, "You’re right. I guess I'm actually better than you, because I'm not fucking her. Well, not yet at least. I get it, though. I mean, she's not really good enough to bring home to mum, no? But I bet she's a good lay. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

“Get the fuck away from me, Lando. And leave her the fuck alone.” 

“Oh don't worry, I'm leaving,” the Brit said, putting his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Just tell YN to wear something nice tonight for me, will you?”

Lando finally turned to leave, but couldn’t resist one last quip at Oscar. “You know, last season, Max taught me something really smart. To win, you can't just outdrive someone. You have to get in their head. Works pretty well, don't you think?”

“Get the fuck out, Lando, before I hurt you,” Oscar threatened, truly at the end of his rope.

Lando just laughed as he finally walked away, turning the corner and going into his own driver’s room. 

Oscar did the same, taking a deep breath when he finally closed the door. He needed to punch something. He needed to scream. He could do neither.

But that wasn’t the worst problem at hand. He knew Lando was right, about everything. And it terrified him.

He had to find some way to prevent you from going on that date. But how? Was there anything he could say that could prevent what his own failures had set in motion so long ago?

There was a knock at his door. It was a McLaren engineer, telling him it was time to come back to the garage. He had wasted so much time bickering with Lando that he couldn't get his headspace right for the race.

God, he was good at this. 

Oscar made his way back to the garage and locked eyes with you. You had looked over your shoulder, still preoccupied with the new guy and his inability to work a camera. You held Oscar’s gaze for a second too long. 

He made his way over to you. “Hey, YN,” he said, “why don’t you get some rain shots before we have to go back out?”

Oscar was never the type to tell you how to do your job, unlike his teammate, who often jokingly ordered you around like his personal photographer. You recognized his attempt to get you away from the new guy.

You stepped away and brought your camera back up to your eye, taking a gorgeous picture of Oscar’s side profile looking at the rain outside. His hair was perfectly tousled, his jawline perfectly sharp, his cheeks shaded a perfect pink, still flustered from the conversation you knew nothing of. Even after being his friend for so many years, and admiring him for so long, it was moments like this when you were truly reminded how much you loved him.

Because just as Oscar saw you, you saw him. You saw through his carefully crafted exterior; truthfully, as his best friend and social media manager, you had been instrumental in making it. When others saw him as unemotional, you saw the small nuances in how he moved and spoke, the subtle changes in expression. You two had your own language in that way, and your devotion showed itself in moments like these, where you could capture the most beautiful photographs of your friend, letting the world have just a brief glimpse into the complex soul that you had become so enraptured by.

Yeah, you were fucked. 

Oscar finally put on his helmet and began to get ready to roll the car out to the grid. 

“Good luck,” you whispered. You reached out your hand and intertwined it with his, squeezing it as an act of comfort. Even through the rough material of his gloves, you hoped to send him a real message of love. 

Maybe that was too strong a word. You couldn’t tell anymore. 

Though you followed both cars out to the now dry grid, you kept your distance, knowing that now the focus was on the monumental race ahead of them. You let the camera be your shield against emotion, though you couldn’t help how it focused in on Oscar so easily. Even from afar, his eyes quickly glancing at your lens could tell you depths of information. 

At the front of the grid, Lando occasionally looked back on you. He was ready to go, determined to win this race; Oscar was no longer a threat, in the back of the grid and distracted beyond measure. 

But the Brit couldn’t help being distracted a bit himself. You weren’t looking at him. You were pulling away a bit too much for comfort. 

It doesn’t matter now, he thought to himself. He knew you. Not in the deep way that Oscar did, but still enough to know exactly what buttons to push, when to give and when to pressure. It was a skill that he’d come to refine in the past few years, fighting not only against world-class athletes, but also against master manipulators, for the Formula 1 World Driver’s Championship title.

He never thought he’d have to play this dirty to eliminate a teammate. But so far, it was working like a charm, and at this point, there wasn’t much he was above doing to get that title.

Unfortunately, Lando’s ambitions couldn’t keep up with his abilities. He bottled pole at the start and wasn’t able to recover. 

Oscar had a few overtakes, but not anything spectacular. Monaco would not be a race to remember for McLaren that year. 

After getting all your shots of Oscar in the garage after the race, you made your way back to your apartment. You had to get ready for your date with Lando that night.

You had never been the type to have a very strong intuition. You could never distinguish it from anxiety or paranoia. But you couldn’t ignore that pit in the bottom of your stomach that just grew and grew, devouring all your thoughts as you fixed your hair and applied your makeup. 

In the middle of your beauty routine, Oscar came home, exhausted from the race.

“You did great out there today,” you said, giving him a small smile as he flopped down on the bed.”

“I barely got points,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s a track that’s awful for overtaking and you were going on, what, 2 or 3 hours of sleep? Take the small wins where you can.”

“How are you not exhausted?” he questioned, sitting up to watch you apply your skincare at your vanity.

I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, that’s why, you thought. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to confide your anxieties to Oscar right now.

You knew why. Because you knew that he could change it. He could convince you to give in to your desires, to drown in him. And you couldn’t. You were too goddamned stubborn.

You didn’t answer Oscar’s question, and that familiar heavy feeling dawned in your room.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked. Neither of you really had the energy for talking, but you knew it was more a statement than a request. “I talked to Lando today.”

Ah, so he knew what you were doing. 

“He said some…really messed up stuff about you, YN. He doesn't care about you.”

“I know he doesn’t,” you said, your voice flat and quiet.

“It’s more than that. YN, the things he said disgusted me, and he laughed about it like it was the funniest thing. Please don’t do this.”

“Don’t, Oscar.”

“YN—”

You got up and walked into your closet to get dressed for the night, cutting him off. 

You heard him sigh, and the sound of ruffling clothing filled the room as you both changed out of eye shot of each other. The thought of Oscar undressed in your bed again made your head spin.

You snaked the fabric of the dress over your skin, smoothing it out. You put on your shoes and grabbed your purse before taking a deep breath and stepping out.

“How do I look?” you asked. But you were distracted by a shirtless Oscar sitting on your bed, muscles still taunt from the race hours before.

“Beautiful,” he said. “You’re perfect.”

His voice was too tender, his words too strong. You couldn’t bear it for much longer. You shuffled around your room, organizing your makeup and applying your perfume, trying to distract yourself from the elephant—or rather, shirtless F1 driver that you were in love with—in the room.

“I’m not sure what time I’ll be—”

“YN,” Oscar said, standing up to place himself in front of you, between you and the door. “Don’t do this.”

“Oscar…” you began.

“You don’t have to do this. Stay here with me.” he advanced towards you, closing the gap by placing his hands on your waist.

Your heart skipped a beat. The thin line that had so carefully been drawn after his apology was gone now with his sensual touch.

You looked away from him. He reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at his.

“You don’t have to go to him. You don’t have to leave Monaco or find another job. You don’t have to do any of this. YN, let me take care of you.”

Instinctively, you reached your hand out to rest against his bare chest, and you felt his breath hitch. You were going to give in, right here and now.

And God, you wanted to. You missed the warmth of Oscar’s body against yours, the liminal space he occupied in your bed after a night of collision and pleasure. And in that moment, with his soft heart beat and the steady rhythm of his breaths right under your fingertips, you felt…safe. At home. Seen.

Your phone buzzed in your purse. 

“I’m going to be late,” you muttered, stepping back and walking around him.  He let you go easily.

“Get some rest, Oscar,” you told him, a final goodbye, or at least that’s how it felt, as you closed the door behind you and left to go meet Lando. 

[miakat9]

Pillow Talk | LN4

★ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/N cuddle in bed after a long, tiring day.

★ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

★ word count ━━━━━━━ 2.8k

Based on this request.

It’s nearly midnight, and rain streaks down the floor-to-ceiling windows of Y/N’s bedroom, blurring the glittering skyline beyond. The soft patter of raindrops against the glass fills the silence between them, a rhythmic lullaby to the storm brewing outside. The air still carries the lingering warmth of their shared shower—steam still lingering in the air, the scent of her shampoo and his body wash mixing in a quiet intimacy.

Y/n lay curled up under a plush white duvet, her head nestled in the crook of Lando’s shoulder. He lay on his back, one arm wrapped around her while his free hand brushed gentle strokes along her arm. They had finished dinner at her favorite Thai restaurant earlier that night, laughing over shared dishes before heading back to her place to shower and wind down. Now, surrounded by the cozy comfort of her bed, time felt slower—each moment more precious.

It had been five months since they officially became a couple, though they had known each other for way longer. The initial weeks of their relationship had been a mixture of bashful smiles and playful teasing; Y/n constantly reminded herself that she had been wary of Lando, yet somehow, in those five short months, he had shown her just how tender and genuine he could be.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, dipping his head to catch her gaze. “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, letting her cheek rest against his warm chest. “Just tired. Work was brutal today, and I’ve been running on caffeine fumes. Having you here…makes it better.”

Lando’s lips curved into a slow, affectionate grin. He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, inhaling the faint floral scent of her shampoo. “I’m happy to be here,” he murmured, his voice low. “You have no idea how much I look forward to these nights.”

She smiled against his skin. “I think I have an idea, considering the amount of texts you send me when I’m stuck in meetings,” she teased, recalling the playful onslaught of messages and voice notes he’d sent throughout her workday.

“You love it,” Lando teased right back, turning slightly so that he faced her more fully. His hand continued to run gentle circles on her shoulder. “Besides, I can’t help it when I miss you. Monaco’s nice, but I’d pick London and you any day.”

She smiled at his words, cheeks warming at the sincerity she heard in his voice. There was a contented silence for a while as she listened to his heartbeat. 

“You’ve gotten comfortable in my space,” Y/n noted, half-closing her eyes. “Remember how you practically sprinted in here the first time, looking around like you were on a secret mission?”

Lando chuckled, recalling the memory. He had been so eager to see where she spent her days, to be a part of her world beyond the dinners and the group hangouts. “What can I say? I like to know every inch of your life.” He squeezed her gently, the tone in his voice growing softer. “I’m just glad you finally let me in.”

Her hand drifted up to trace the outline of his jaw. Though they teased each other, there was an undercurrent of emotion swirling between them—something tender and powerful that she found simultaneously comforting and electrifying. “I’m glad I did, too,” she admitted. “You’ve been…worth it.”

His eyes sparked with warmth. He tilted his head and gently brushed his nose against hers. It was a fleeting, almost childlike gesture, but it sent a surprising jolt of warmth through her. She could feel the beginning strains of tension—the lovely kind that made her want to pull him closer.

“How’re you feeling now?” he asked, letting his fingers dip to her waist. A playful glint appeared in his eyes as he noticed the way her breath caught.

“Tired,” she repeated, then paused. “But also…really happy.”

He smirked. “So, if you had to choose one…which is it right now? Sleepy or happy? Or maybe something else?” The slight growl in his voice suggested the possibility of “something else.”

She bit her lip, trying to keep from letting out a giggle. “Stop that,” she murmured, a small laugh escaping anyway.

“Stop what?” he asked, tilting his head in feigned innocence. His hand skimmed her waist again in a playful manner, and she felt her heart flutter.

“You’re being a tease,” she said, half laughing and half scolding, but her tone was gentle—she was far from annoyed. It was a familiar dance, one that she’d grown more comfortable with over the months.

“Me?” Lando said in mock offense. “Never.”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her grin. She allowed herself to scoot closer, pressing into his warmth as the rain continued its steady patter on the glass.

“You smell really nice,” he commented in a low voice, taking a moment to nuzzle into her hair. “That shampoo—it’s jasmine, right?”

“Jasmine and a bit of vanilla,” she confirmed, letting her eyes flutter shut for just a moment.

Lando’s free hand found hers, their fingers interlacing beneath the duvet. “You want me to put a movie on?” he asked. “We can do that, or we can just…talk.”

She lifted her head slightly, resting her chin on his chest as she peered up at him. “I wouldn’t mind just talking.”

He smiled. “Tell me about your day. The real version, not the polite one.”

She exhaled, letting out a small laugh. “It was…stressful. The project my team is working on is behind schedule, and my boss wasn’t exactly thrilled. We had to do a lot of damage control. On top of that, I had to skip lunch to attend a meeting that should have been an email.”

“Sounds rough,” he sympathized. His thumb drew soothing patterns across her knuckles. “Did you eat enough for dinner at least?”

She nodded. “I did, thank you for making sure I got extra spring rolls,” she teased.

Lando grinned. “I’ll always make sure you eat plenty of spring rolls. I care about you,” he said, only half-joking. “I want to take care of you, you know.”

She felt her heart flutter at his earnestness. Looking up, she saw the gentle concern etched onto his face, and warmth spread through her chest. “You already do,” she whispered, moving her hand to gently cup his cheek. She felt the light stubble there, and a tingle raced through her. “More than anyone ever has.”

His expression softened, and he dipped his head to press his lips against hers in a tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or insistent; it was warm and certain. She let herself melt into it for a moment, forgetting the world outside her door.

When they parted, Lando brushed a lock of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “So, tomorrow,” he began, shifting under the covers so he could face her more easily, “we can stay in and order breakfast, or we can go out for a walk by the river. It’s supposed to be nicer in the morning, I think. The forecast said the rain should stop overnight.”

Her eyes flickered to the window where the raindrops continued. “A walk might be nice. But I’ll warn you, I’m probably sleeping in.”

“Good,” he answered quickly. “You need the rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And you’ll be wide awake, what, making me coffee?”

His grin deepened. “Actually, I might just stay in bed and watch you sleep for a bit. But, sure, I can make coffee too. I’m multi-talented, you know—F1 driver, coffee expert, professional girlfriend-spoiler.”

She giggled softly, lightly swatting his shoulder. “Don’t be creepy,” she teased, though the image of him being there, simply adoring her when she woke, sent a wave of comfort and contentment through her. “But okay, deal. You can watch me sleep, then we’ll have coffee. Then maybe we walk along the river.”

“Sounds perfect.” He placed a soft kiss on her temple. “Anything else you want? Whatever you want to do, I’m all yours tomorrow.”

She studied his face for a moment, taking in his bright eyes that always seemed to hold an easy smile. Five months ago, she never would have pictured being this cozy with him—this intimately connected. Now, she couldn’t imagine not having him around.

“Right now,” she said, her voice quiet, “I just want you to hold me.”

Lando’s gaze flicked down to her lips, then back up to her eyes, and he nodded. “Come here.” He guided her head back down to his shoulder, wrapping his arms around her so she was secure against him. They sank deeper into the pillows, the duvet a soft cloud around their bodies.

For a while, they simply breathed together. The occasional gust of wind rattled against the window, but it only made the room feel more intimate. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, inhaling the jasmine-vanilla scent once more. She could feel his heart beating against her cheek, strong and steady.

Eventually, she spoke again, her voice muffled by his shirt. “I’m so relaxed, I might fall asleep on you.”

“Then I’ll be the most comfortable pillow you’ve ever had,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Mmm,” she mumbled, contentment evident in her tone. She ran her fingertips lightly over his chest, feeling the fabric of his t-shirt move under her hand. “I like how you feel. You’re so warm.”

“Is that so?” he teased in a husky whisper, his hand drifting to the curve of her waist. There was a gentle pressure that sent a shiver through her, a teasing reminder of how good it felt whenever he touched her. The sexual tension that always lingered between them rose to the surface, making her breath hitch.

She caught his gaze, and for a moment, words seemed unnecessary. A current of unspoken desire passed between them. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, more deeply this time, but still with that careful tenderness that made her stomach flutter.

Her lips parted, savoring the warmth and reassurance he poured into that moment. Then he pulled back, ever-so-slightly. “Don’t want to tire you out even more,” he teased, breathless.

She let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming. “We have all night,” she reminded him softly, and there was a gentle challenge in her eyes—a playfulness that mirrored his own.

“So we do,” he agreed, pulling her impossibly closer. He brushed his lips against her neck, leaving a trail of light kisses before letting his forehead rest against her shoulder. “No rush for anything, right?”

“Right,” she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips. “We have all the time in the world.”

Another quiet lull settled over them, comfortable and intimate. She splayed a hand across his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and closed her eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured after a while, her voice soft with sincerity.

“For what?”

“For making me feel safe,” she said, looking up at him. “You know I don’t always let people in easily. But you—” She paused, a slight smile lighting her face. “You never gave up on me. Even when I was making it complicated, you were there. You’re always here.”

“Of course,” he said, tightening his hold around her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his collarbone in a feather-light kiss. “I don’t want you to.”

He let out a happy sigh, brushing his lips across her forehead once more. “Good,” he murmured, “because I’m exactly where I want to be.”

They continued to hold each other, exchanging soft kisses and whispers in the dim light. The rest of the world seemed far away—a distant hum outside her skyscraper apartment. Beneath the covers, they shared slow caresses and hushed laughs, the gentle friction of their bodies creating a warmth more comforting than any blanket could provide.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though the words had been pulled from somewhere deep inside him. His lips found her forehead, pressing a kiss that lingered, and the sensation sent a wave of warmth cascading through her body. She tilted her face upward, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made her breath catch. His thumb brushed her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw before his lips captured hers in a kiss that was slow and reverent, as if he were memorizing the feel of her with every touch.

Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, holding him close as she kissed him back, savoring the way his lips moved against hers—soft, yet insistent. There was a sweetness to it, a simplicity that made her heart ache in the best way. When he pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her skin, she could feel the curve of his smile against her lips.

“What is it?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His eyes searched hers, the corners crinkling with affection. “You,” he said simply, as though the word itself held the weight of everything he couldn’t quite articulate. “You feel like home.”

Her chest tightened, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him—clean, with a faint trace of his cologne, mixed with the warmth of his skin. His arms tightened around her, pulling her even closer, and she felt utterly safe, utterly cherished. There was no room for doubt or insecurity in his embrace; here, in his arms, she was everything she’d always wanted to be—loved, valued, seen.

He kissed her again, this time on the temple, his lips lingering as if he were savoring the moment. His hand slid down her arm, fingers interlocking with hers, their palms pressed together. The intimacy of it—barely a movement, yet so deliberate—sent a shiver through her. She squeezed his hand, and he chuckled softly.

“What?” she asked, smiling against his chest.

“You’re so soft,” he said, his voice warm. “Every time I touch you, I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Her cheeks flushed, the praise warming her from the inside out. She tilted her head to look at him, her gaze tracing the curve of his jaw, the faint stubble that shadowed his skin. He looked at her as though she were the only thing that mattered, his eyes soft with adoration.

“You make me feel...” she started, then hesitated, searching for the right words. “Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

His smile deepened, and he pressed his forehead to hers, his breath mingling with hers in the space between them. “You are,” he said simply. “Right here, with me—you’re exactly where you belong.”

She closed her eyes, savoring the words, the way they wrapped around her like a soft blanket. His lips brushed hers again, this time with a subtle urgency, as if he couldn’t quite get enough of her. She kissed him back, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, her body arching slightly toward his. Every touch, every breath, every heartbeat felt magnified, as though they were connected on a level that went beyond the physical.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them slightly breathless, she rested her head back on his chest, her fingers splayed across his heart. His hand continued to stroke her arm, his touch light and soothing. The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing, steady and synchronized.

She felt it then—a sense of peace so profound it almost brought tears to her eyes. In his arms, she wasn’t just Y/N, the girl who worked long hours. She was his. And that was enough—more than enough. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull her into a state of perfect content.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words soft but certain, breaking the silence.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him, her heart swelling in her chest. “I love you, too,” she said, her voice steady, each word filled with the depth of her emotion.

He kissed her once more, a slow, lingering kiss that spoke of promises and forever. And as they lay there together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only this—only them. And it was perfect.

Eventually, as the rain started to taper off and the rhythmic pattern grew faint, Y/n felt her eyelids grow heavy. Her long day was catching up to her, but she felt content in a way she rarely experienced.

Noticing her struggle to stay awake, Lando gently shifted to guide her head back down to his chest. “Sleep,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple. “I’ll be here.”

She managed a small nod, allowing the steady thrum of his heartbeat to lull her into drowsiness. “Stay,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, but he caught it.

He smiled in the darkness. “Always,” he whispered back, stroking her hair until she drifted off.

[miakat9]

Lost in You | LN4

❥ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando accidentally comes inside Y/N for the first time.

❥ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❥ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.3k

❥ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, accidental creampie,

Based on this request.

The first thing Lando noticed when he stepped into her apartment was her. Her scent, that soft, intoxicating mix of vanilla and something uniquely her, lingered in the air. It made him forget the exhaustion of the race, the jet lag, the chaos of Monaco. All that mattered was the woman standing a few feet away, her arms crossed, a playful smirk on her lips.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice dripping with mock annoyance. She leaned against the kitchen counter, her eyes narrowing as she looked him up and down. She was wearing that outfit—the one with the oversized hoodie that she swore wasn’t his but definitely was—and a pair of tiny black shorts that made his mouth go dry.

Lando dropped his bag by the door and strode toward her, his heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of the race. “Late? I came straight from the airport,” he countered, his voice low, teasing. He stopped just inches from her, his gaze locking with hers. “Unless you’re telling me you missed me that much.”

She rolled her eyes, but the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. God, he loved that about her. The way she tried to play it cool, like she wasn’t just as desperate for him as he was for her. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her waist, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’re such a tease,” she muttered, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her hands found their way to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“And you’re a liar,” he shot back, his lips curving into a grin. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Admit it, you’ve been thinking about me all week.”

She shivered, her nails digging into his chest just enough to make him groan. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting off easy.”

Lando chuckled, the sound dark and rumbling in his chest. “Oh, darling,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

–

Their clothes were scattered across the floor within minutes, a trail leading from the kitchen to the bedroom. She was on her knees on the bed, her hands gripping the sheets as Lando stood behind her, his hands exploring every curve of her body. His touch was possessive, claiming, like he couldn’t get enough of her. And maybe he couldn’t.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the small of her back, and she whimpered, her hips pushing back into him.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice shaky, desperate. She reached back, her fingers tangling in his hair as he nipped at her skin, leaving a trail of kisses and bites that made her toes curl.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down her spine. “Patience, love,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “I’ve got you.”

His grip tightened, and she gasped as he pulled her back, her ass pressing against him. He smirked, his fingers digging into her skin as he gave her a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, and she cried out, her body trembling.

“Fuck,” she panted, her fingers tightening in the sheets. “Do that again.”

Lando obliged, his hand coming down on her ass with a force that made her moan. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder. “You like that, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

She nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

He groaned, his hands sliding around to her front, his fingers teasing her clit. “Show me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

She arched her back, her body moving with a rhythm that was both desperate and deliberate. Her hips rolled against his hand, each motion sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. Lando’s breath hitched as he watched her, his fingers working her clit with a precision that made her toes curl into the sheets.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, strained. His other hand gripped her hip, holding her steady as she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her body trembled with every touch, every stroke.

Her moans grew louder, more urgent, filling the room with a symphony of need. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name. Her hands fisted the sheets, knuckles white as she clung to them for dear life. “Please... don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His fingers moved faster, harder, driving her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel it building, that familiar tension coiling in her belly, tightening until she thought she might burst. And then she did. Her body convulsed, a cry tearing from her throat as she came undone beneath his touch. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling, breathless, utterly spent.

But Lando wasn’t done. He couldn’t stop. Not when she looked like that—her hair tangled, her skin flushed, her lips parted as she panted for air. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder, her neck, anywhere he could reach.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice low, reverent. His hands slid down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist before gripping her hips again. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She whimpered, her body still sensitive, still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock once more. “Then don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice shaky but determined. “Take me, Lando. I’m yours.”

Lando’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he positioned himself behind her. She was still on her hands and knees, her back arched perfectly, her ass presented to him like a gift. The sight alone made his cock throb, hard and aching, desperate for her. He ran his hand down the curve of her spine, feeling the way she shivered under his touch, before sliding it lower, over the swell of her ass. He gave her a sharp slap, the sound echoing in the room, and she gasped, her body jolting forward.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers traced the wetness between her thighs, teasing her entrance, already slick and ready for him. “So fucking perfect.”

She whimpered, her head dropping between her shoulders as she pressed back against his hand. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “I need you.”

He didn’t make her wait. Gripping the base of his cock, he guided himself to her entrance, the tip pressing against her warmth. He paused for a moment, savoring the anticipation, the way her body trembled beneath him. Then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside her, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

Her breath hitched, a low moan escaping her lips as she felt him fill her completely. “God, Lando,” she gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets. “You feel so big.”

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he pulled out slightly, only to thrust back in, deeper this time. The sensation was overwhelming—her tightness, her heat, the way her body clenched around him like she was made for him. He couldn’t get enough of the view: her on her hands and knees, her back arched, her ass right there, begging for him. It was primal, possessive, and it drove him wild.

“Fuck, y/n,” he growled, his pace quickening. His thrusts became more urgent, more demanding, each one hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out. “You take me so well.”

She whimpered, her body rocking back to meet his every thrust, each one driving him deeper, harder, until she felt like he was everywhere—inside her, around her, consuming her. His cock stretched her in the most delicious way, filling her so completely that it almost hurt, but in the best kind of way. The angle was perfect, his length hitting that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur and her toes curl into the sheets. She could feel every ridge, every pulse of him as he moved, thick and unrelenting, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking, trembling with the intensity of it all. Her hands clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her belly. “You feel... so big. So good.”

Her words were barely coherent, but they sent a jolt through him, his grip on her hips tightening as he drove into her with even more force. She cried out, her body arching, her ass pressing back against him as if she couldn’t get enough. And she couldn’t. Every thrust was a revelation, his cock sliding in and out of her with a slick, wet sound that only heightened the heat between them. She could feel him everywhere—the stretch of her walls around him, the way her body clenched and fluttered, trying to pull him deeper, keep him there forever.

“I’m close,” she panted, her voice shaky, desperate. Her thighs trembled, her entire body taut like a bowstring, ready to snap. “Please, Lando, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His pace became relentless, his thrusts hard and deep, each one hitting that sweet spot inside her that made her see stars. She could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. 

He could feel it too—the way her walls tightened around him, the way her body trembled with the force of her impending release. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder, her neck, anywhere he could reach. “Come for me, love,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “Let go.”

And she did. Her body convulsed, a cry tearing from her throat as she came undone beneath him. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling, breathless, utterly spent. But Lando wasn’t done. He couldn’t stop. Not when she looked like that—her hair tangled, her skin flushed, her lips parted as she panted for air. He kept thrusting, driving her through her orgasm, chasing his own release.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned, his pace becoming erratic. “I can’t hold back.”

She whimpered, her body still sensitive, still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock once more. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice shaky but determined. “Take me, Lando. I’m yours.”

And with a final, deep thrust, he did. His release washed over him, hot and intense, as he spilled inside her, his body shuddering with the force of it. He collapsed over her, his chest heaving, his heart racing as they both came down from the high. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the feel of their bodies pressed together, and the undeniable truth that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Lando’s body tightened, every muscle coiled like a spring as he thrust into her one final time, deeper than before, burying himself to the hilt. She gasped, her body arching, her walls clamping down around him in a desperate, pulsing rhythm. It was too much—the heat, the tension, the way she squeezed him—and he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a guttural groan, his release hit him like a tidal wave, hot and relentless, spilling deep inside her. His hips jerked uncontrollably, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into her, filling her with every drop.

She felt it—the way he twitched inside her, the warmth flooding her, the sheer force of his orgasm rippling through him. It sent her over the edge again, her own body shuddering as she came with him, waves of pleasure crashing over her, leaving her breathless and trembling. Lando collapsed forward, his chest pressed against her back, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her skin. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as their bodies trembled together, both of them drowning in the aftershocks.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing—fast, unsteady, synchronized—and the heat of their skin pressed together, slick with sweat. Lando buried his face in the curve of her neck, his lips brushing against her shoulder in a soft, reverent kiss. His fingers traced her waist, possessive and gentle all at once, like he couldn’t bear to let her go.

She could feel his heartbeat, rapid and wild, against her back, matching the frantic pace of her own. His weight felt grounding, comforting, like he was anchoring her to the moment, to him. He gave a shaky exhale, his breath hot against her skin, and she could feel the tension slowly leaving his body as though his limbs had given out. Even in his exhaustion, his hands explored her body lightly, caressing her soft skin as if to remind them both they were still present, and still on their high. Instinctively, she turned her head to kiss his cheek, using the hands that once clutched the bedsheets, to stroke his hand on her waist.

She knew right then—they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Lando pulled out slowly, his breath still ragged, his body trembling with the remnants of his orgasm. She gasped softly, the sensation of him slipping out of her strangely intimate, the space he left behind warm and empty. But then she felt it—the unmistakable trickle of his release leaking out of her. Her thighs twitched, a shiver running through her as she savored the sensation, strange but intoxicating. She could feel the warmth of it, slow and deliberate, sliding down her sensitive skin. It sent a jolt of electricity through her, her body still on that high, still craving more of him.

But when Lando looked down, his body suddenly stiffened. His breath caught in his throat. “Shit,” he muttered, his eyes wide with panic. “I—I didn’t mean to—fuck, I’m sorry.”

She turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft.

He ran a hand through his damp curls, his heart racing. “I—I came inside you,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry, it’s never—I never—”

A small smile tugged at her lips as she reached up, cupping his cheek. “Lando,” she said, her tone calm, reassuring. “It’s okay. I’m on birth control.”

He blinked, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She nodded. “Positive.” Her fingers brushed lightly against his skin. “But it’s cute that you’re freaking out.”

He groaned, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, voice muffled against her skin.

She laughed, the sound soft and full of warmth. “You’re stuck with me, Norris,” she teased, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

His words sent warmth flooding through her, settling deep in her chest. She felt it again—that slow, intimate reminder of how close they’d been, how much he’d given her. The weight of it lingered between them, unspoken but deeply felt.

“Don’t move,” he murmured suddenly, his voice still rough but gentle. He shifted off the bed, his movements slightly unsteady, and disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the sound of water running, a soft clatter, and then he was back, a warm, damp cloth in his hand.

She turned her head, watching him as he knelt beside her, his eyes heavy with something she couldn’t quite name—devotion, maybe, or tenderness. Gently, he pressed the cloth between her thighs, his touch careful, almost tender. She inhaled sharply, the warmth of the cloth contrasting with the cool air of the room, the sensation both soothing and intimate. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing the curve of her thigh, and she let out a soft sigh, her body still humming with pleasure.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice low, tinged with concern.

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “No,” she whispered. “It feels... good.” Her cheeks flushed as she admitted it, but she couldn’t help it—the thought of him inside her, filling her so completely, made her heart race all over again.

He studied her, his brow furrowing slightly, before smirking, that familiar teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Good?” he repeated, his voice dipping into that playful tone she both loved and hated. “Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrayed her. “Not like I want to,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against his hand where it still rested on her thigh.

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her hip, his breath warm against her skin. “Good,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her skin. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He finished cleaning her up, his touches tender, his eyes never leaving hers. When he was done, he dropped the cloth onto the floor and slid back into bed, pulling her into his arms. She nestled against him, her head resting on his chest, his heartbeat steady under her ear. For the first time, she wasn’t afraid of what this meant, of where they were going. He’d given her everything—his body, his heart, and now, this.

It was theirs, and no one could take it away.

She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his in a featherlight kiss. “I missed you,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost shy.

He smiled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin, the warmth of his touch making her shiver. “I missed you too,” he admitted, his voice low, raw. “More than you can imagine.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “It felt... good,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him through her lashes, her heart pounding in her chest. “When you came inside me. It was... really hot.”

Lando’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as he stared at her. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice teasing, but there was a hint of something deeper in his tone. His hand slid down to her thigh, his fingers brushing against her sensitive skin. “Tell me more.”

She bit her lip, her body already humming with the memory. “Feeling it... inside me,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “And then, when it started to drip out...” She shuddered, her thighs pressing together instinctively. “It was so fucking hot.”

He groaned, his fingers tightening on her thigh. “Fuck, y/n,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His other hand slid up to her waist, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him, his lips brushing against her ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She whimpered, her hands gripping his shoulders as she felt the heat of his body against hers. “Do it again,” she whispered, her voice shaky but bold. “Come inside me again. I want to feel it. I want to feel you.”

Lando growled, the sound sending a thrill through her. His lips crashed against hers in a fierce kiss, his hands moving to her hips, holding her steady. “You’re killing me, love,” he muttered against her lips, his breath hot, ragged. “But fuck, if I don’t want to do exactly that.”

She moaned, her body arching into his, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Then don’t hold back,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I’m yours, Lando. All yours.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes blazing with intensity. “And I’m yours,” he said, his voice low, commanding. “Every fucking part of me.”

Then he kissed her again, deep and demanding, like he couldn’t get enough of her. And she knew then—he never would.

[miakat9]

you’re the only friend i need ⟢ OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and oscar were always two peas on a pod. people would often wonder how you, a troublesome kid in brighton, had managed to befriend the calm and reserve boy, oscar piastri. it was truly a wonder.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, angst, heavy feeling fic, implied main character death (mcd), unsaid feelings, mentions of disease (leukemia), mentions of wound and bleeding, googled medical stuff, medical inaccuracies, inaccurate info, reader is a bit of a troublemaker, fast paced-ish, there are unrealistic medical stuff, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 12.3k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic is pure angst, there is no happy ending for this one. so if this is not your cup of tea, it’s better you stop reading from here on out. there will be no other part of this fic, bc i’m don’t really know how to pen the rest of the fic (sorry ><), i’m satisfied with the ending of this one. this fic is a love child of me loving childhood nostalgia and coming-of-age genre, and it was also the vibe the i get whenever i hear ‘ribs’ by lorde, bc i SWEAR that song never fails to make me feel stuff +++ the childhood drink, i only had googled it, so if i have any australian reader here, pls feel free to correct me. your comments/reblogs is always appreciated, i hope that you’ll like this one! :)

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You and Oscar Piastri had always been inseparable, practically joined at the hip since the moment your parents introduced you as toddlers. Living right next door to each other in a quiet suburban neighborhood in Brighton, meant that your lives intertwined in a way that felt natural, as if you had always been destined to be a part of one another’s stories. Your parents, close friends long before either of you were born, often joked that it was inevitable that you two would end up being close. Whether it was playdates during the day or sleepovers at night, there was rarely a time when you and Oscar weren’t together.

Sleepovers were always your favorite. Your parents would bring you to Oscar's house with a hastily packed bag, and Nicole and Chris would always welcome you as if you were one of their own. Nicole always had snacks ready—popcorn, biscuits, and sometimes her famous chocolate cake, and how Chris would sometimes tease you both about staying up too late. You and Oscar never really did listen to him, though.

Once the lights were out and the world outside went quiet, you and Oscar would sneak flashlights under the covers, building forts out of blankets and couch cushions. Inside your makeshift castles, you would whisper to each other in the dark, sharing stories that veeted from spine-tingling ghost tales to ridiculous made-up adventures that had you both doubled over with laughter. It was not uncommon for you to laugh so hard your ribs hurt, clutching your sides as Oscar tried, and failed, to stifle his giggles so you would not wake his parents up.

Oscar, even as a kid, was calm and easygoing, which is a perfect counterbalance to your boundless energy and knack for trouble. He was steady, level-headed, and rarely got into trouble, whilst you had a knack for finding mischief, dragging Oscar along for the ride more than not—daring him to climb trees or riding bikes faster than you should’ve, to name a few.

Your parents, on more occasions than they could count, ended up at their wits end because of your antics. From sneaking out past curfew to explore the neighborhood to accidentally setting off store alarms because you thought it would be funny to hide in a display, you always found a way to test the limits of patience. More often than not, you did get caught—whether it was by a passing neighbor, security, or the occasional local police officer, you somehow always managed to land yourself in trouble—but never anything too serious.

It was usually enough to warrant a lecture from your own parents and a lot of head-shaking from Oscar’s. Despite it all, Nicole and Chris never seemed to hold it against you. They’re just kids, Nicole would say, a soft smile on her face. As long as you’re not doing anything dangerous, it’s fine. Chris would usually chime in on the conversation with a mock-serious, just don’t do drugs, alright? his tone was always lighthearted, but you knew they meant it. You would just laugh it off, promising to behave, even though everyone knew that promise would be short-lived.

Your bond with Oscar extended to his entire family. His younger sister—Hattie, Edie, and Mae, all adored you, looking up to you like the cool older sibling they didn’t have. You would play dress-up with them, let them braid your hair, and sometimes even join them for impromptu tea parties. They would giggle uncomfortably at your dramatic impressions of princesses and villains, their laughter echoing through the house. Nicole often remarked how good you were with them, and Chris would joke that you were training to be a babysitter.

Your home as well was equally a second home for Oscar. Your parents trusted him implicitly, often leaving him in charge when they needed someone to keep you grounded. He had this knack for calming you down whenever you’re in one of your hyperactive moods, his steady demeanor a much-needed anchor to your whirlwind of personality. Oscar often got praised by your parents, calling him the voice of reason in your friendship dynamic. But even they couldn’t stay mad for long when Oscar ended up being roped into your schemes. They would shake their heads and sigh, but deep down, they were glad you had someone like Oscar in your life—someone who did not just tolerate your chaos, but embraced it in his own quiet way.

Growing up with Oscar was more than just having a best friend, it was having a partner in every memory worth keeping. From lazy afternoons spent sprawled out on the grass, staring at the clouds, to winter nights curled up on the couch watching movies, every moment with Oscar felt like an adventure.

You had suddenly remembered that one time—it was the kind of night that felt alive, the air cool but not biting, sky’s a velvet canvas scattered with stars. You had been sitting on the edge of your bed, staring aimlessly at the analog clog, when the idea hit you—a reckless, wild idea that made your heart race with excitement. Sneaking out was not new to you, but this time, you wanted company. Specifically, you wanted Oscar.

Convincing him was not really easy. You had climbed through his bedroom window—something you had done far more time than you could count, and found him already half-asleep, wrapped in his favorite blanket with his hair sticking up at odd angles.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled groggily, squinting at you.

“Come on, we’re going out,” you whispered, a grin spreading across your face.

“Out where?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, though you could hear the reluctance in his voice. “It’s already late at night.”

“Just get dressed. Trust me, you’ll love it.” you smiled.

Oscar groaned, muttering something about how this was a terrible idea, but eventually, he swung his legs out of his bed and grabbed a hoodie. You knew that he would come around, he always did. By the time you reached the abandoned public pool, the chain-linked fence loomed in front of you, its weathered surface dotted with a big faded NO TRESPASSING sign.

He stopped in his tracks, crossing his arms. “You dragged me out of bed for this? We’re not getting in.”

“Oh have a little faith, would you,” you said, as you pull out a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters.

He stared at you, blinking slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” you replied, popping the p.

“You stole those, didn’t you?” Oscar questioned.

“Borrowed,” you corrected, grinning mischievously as you hefted the tool.

Oscar sighed, the kind of exasperated sigh he seemed to reserve exclusively for you. “You’re insane.”

“And you love it,” you teased, motioning for him to follow you.

You led him to the back of the pool area, where the bushes grew thick and wild, partially hiding the fence. Kneeling down, you positioned the bolt cutters against the rusted metal links and started to work. The snap of metal breaking was surprisingly loud in the quiet night, but you pressed on, ignoring Oscar’s whispered protest.

“This is such a bad idea,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to appear. “If we get caught—”

“We won’t get caught,” you interrupted, voice calm but firm. “Relax, Osc. I’ve done this before.”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” he said, but voice softened when he saw the concentration on your face. “You’re weirdly good at that,” he admitted after a moment, watching as you expertly cut a hole big enough for the two of you to crawl through.

“Why thank you, my good sir,” you said, brushing the dirt off your hands as you stepped back to admire your work. “Now come on, ladies first.” you teased, to which he just rolled his eyes at you.

Oscar followed you through the gap in the fence, grumbling under his breath but too curious to stop. The pool stretched out in front of you, its surface shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Despite the place being abandoned, the water was crystal clear, a testament to whoever was still maintaining it.

“So this is your idea of fun in the middle of the night?” he asked, tone caught between disbelief and amusement.

“Yep.” you smiled.

Shaking his head, he trailed after you to one of the old sunbeds. You plopped down first, stretching out and tilting your head back to gaze at the stars. After a moment, he sat down beside you, arms resting on his knees. For a while, neither of you spoke. The night was so still that the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of crickets felt almost amplified. It was peaceful in a way that made the world beyond the fence feel far away and unimportant.

“You really come here a lot?” Oscar finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, but somehow, they found where I would sneak in and boarded it off.” you said softly. “It’s kind of my spot. No one bothers me here, and I can think peacefully.”

He glanced over at you, expression unreadable. “It’s nice,” he admitted, voice low.

“Told you,” you said with a small smirk, nudging him with your shoulder.

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “I still think you’re insane. But thanks for bringing me here.”

“See? You love it!” you teased again, but this time, your tone was gentle.

He didn’t argue back, just leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the stars. For all his initial protests, you could tell he was enjoying himself.

The quiet stillness of the night surrounded you as you sat on the sunbeds, gazing up at the sky. The stars seemed to shimmer more brightly than usual, scattered across the inky darkness like tiny diamonds. The gentle hum of crickets filled the silence, a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. You turned your head slightly, glancing at Oscar, who was leaning back, arms folded behind his head, and face relaxed but thoughtful.

“So,” you started this time, breaking the silence. “How’s karting going for you?”

Oscar turned his head towards you, brow lifting slightly. “It’s going good,” he said, tone casual, but there was a spark in his eyes as he spoke. “I’ve got another competition coming up soon. You’d know all about it if you actually came to one for once.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling a little. “You know that karting isn’t my thing.”

“Not your thing,” he repeated, almost scoffing, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve been saying that for years. You’ve never even given it a chance.”

“I cheer for you in spirit,” you said, leaning back against the sunbed with a grin. “That counts, right?”

Oscar let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible. But seriously, you should come sometime. It’s not just about the racing—you’d see what it’s all about. Besides, my family would love to have you there.”

“I know,” you said quietly, gaze drifting back to the stars. “But I don’t need to be there to know you’re amazing. I’m always proud of you, you know that.”

He smiled softened at your words, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, as if something had been weighing on him, he spoke again.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he began, voice a little hesitant, “I’m probably moving to the UK soon. There’s more opportunity there for racing. Better teams, better chances to make it in F1.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you didn’t know to respond to Oscar. You felt a slight pinch in your chest, a dull ache you could not quite place. But as always, you pushed it aside, refusing to let it show.

“Oh, wow,” you said, turning to him with a smile that you hoped didn’t look forced. “So, you’re leaving me, huh?”

Oscar gave you a look—half amused, half exasperated. “I’m not leaving you,” he said firmly. “It’s just something I need to do.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, poking his arm lightly. “Just don’t forget me when you’re already a big shot in F1, okay? Don’t pretend you don’t know me when I show up at one of your races, like, hey, remember me? The one dragged you into all her bad ideas?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Like I could ever forget you. You’d probably try and break into the paddock if I didn’t let you in.”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin, though your chest still felt tight.

Oscar tilted his head, looking at you more seriously now. “What about you?” he asked. “What do you want to do? Where do you see yourself in a few years?”

You hesitated, staring back up at the sky as if the stars might have an answer for you. The truth was, you did not know at all. You never had. The thought of planning your life out like that felt daunting, like trying to catch smoke in your hands.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you admitted finally, voice soft. “As cliché as it sounds, I guess I’ll just…go with the flow. See where life takes me.”

Oscar studied your face for a moment, gaze thoughtful. “That’s not a bad thing, you know,” he said. “Some people tend to spend their whole lives planning and never stop to actually live.”

You turned your head to him, surprised by his words. You know that Oscar was philosophical in some type of way, and it always surprises you, but there was something reassuring in the way he said it.

“Yeah,” you murmured, offering him a smile. “Maybe.”

You reached inside of your jacket and pulled out two juice boxes of sunshine punch. You tossed one to Oscar, who caught it with a raised eyebrow.

“Sunshine punch? Really?” he asked, tone teasing as he turned the box over in his hands.

“I know, I’m the best, aren’t I?” you replied, already poking the straw into yours and taking a sip.

Oscar gave you a small shake of his head but didn’t argue. He was not a fan of the drink, you both knew that early on, but he appreciated the gesture. He poked the straw in, took a small sip, and scrunched his nose lightly. You just laughed quietly to yourself, looking out at the pool.

The water glistened under the moonlight, a perfect reflection of the pale orb in the sky. Silence between you was comfortable, just the two of you simply drinking your juice boxes, watching the faint ripple of water and the shadows cast by the surrounding bushes. But then, a sharp flash of light broke through the calm, your heart jumped as the beam of a flashlight swept across the area. You then froze, juice box in hand, while Oscar turned to look at you, confused.

“Finish your juice box,” you whispered urgently, quickly sipping the last of your drink and tossing the empty juice box into a trash bin.

“What “ Oscar whispered back, voice incredulous. “Why?”

“Just do it!” you urged, voice tight as your eyes scanned the area for a hiding spot.

Lscar grumbled, not really happy that you were hurrying him with his juice box, but he drank it quickly. You were already moving, searching desperately for somewhere you and Oscar could hide, but there was nothing. No bushes dense enough, no shadows deep enough. The pool shimmered ominously in your peripheral vision as the flashlight beam drew closer.

“Hold your breath,” you whispered sharply, grabbing Oscar’s wrist.

“Wait, what—” he started, but you didn’t give Oscar the chance to finish.

You yanked him forward, making him drop the juice box to the ground, and without a second thought, you pushed him into the pool. The water was shockingly cold against your skin as you followed him in, the splash louder than you had hoped. You gestured quickly at Oscar, motioning for him to stay under and not make any movement. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and panic, but he nodded, holding his breath as the two of you sank just beneath the surface.

The water muffled everything—whistle of the night, rustle of leaves, even your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Above you, the flashlight beam danced across the pool’s surface, light refracting and breaking into shimmering fragments underwater. You held your breath as tightly as you held onto the pool ladder near you, praying you wouldn’t need to come up too soon.

Bright light lingered near the spot where you and Oscar were submerged. You could feel the tension radiating off of Oscar, his body still beside yours. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every muscle in your body tensed. Finally, the light shifted, moving away from your side of the pool. You waited until the beam disappeared entirely before you tapped Oscar’s arm and motioned upward.

Breaking the surface as quietly as you could, you took in a deep gulp of air. The guard’s faint muttering was distant now, but there was no time to relax. Grabbing Oscar’s wrist again, you pulled him towards the swimming pool ladder, the two of you moving quickly but silently. Once out of the pool, you didn’t even wait to catch your breath.

“Run!” you hissed, tugging him along.

The security had heard the faint splashing as you climbed out and turned, his whistle piercing through the night. “Hey! Stop right there!”

You didn’t look back. Your feet pounded against the concrete as you made a dash for the gap in the fence, snatching up the bolt cutters on the way out. You could not risk leaving it behind, your father would definitely notice that they were missing. Oscar groaned behind you, clearly annoyed but following without hesitation. He was the last one through the gap, and just as you turned to grab his arm and pull him forward, the security’s shouts grew louder.

“Go, go, go!” you urged, practically dragging him by his hand as you sprinted down the street.

The sound of your shoes hitting the pavement echoed in the quiet street of your neighborhood, both your breathing still heavy from running, then noticed the way his right sleeve moved awkwardly against his arm. In the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, you caught sight of a tear in his hoodie, a dark streak seeping through the fabric. Without thinking, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait, Osc, hold on,” you said, pulling his arm closer to inspect it.

Oscar blinked down at you in surprise. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You’re bleeding,” you murmured, tugging the torn fabric back slightly to reveal a shallow but angry scratch on his skin. The blood was fresh, glinting under the light.

He tilted his head at the sight of it, his expression calm. “Huh? I didn’t even notice.”

“I’m so sorry, Osc!” you blurted out, guilt immediately rising in your chest. “It must’ve happened when we were going through the fence. I didn’t—”

“Hey, stop it,” he interrupted, tone firm but soft. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously.”

You hesitated, still holding his arm as if that would somehow make it better. Oscar shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

Even though his words were reassuring, the sight of the wound made you feel uneasy. You let go of his arm reluctantly, murmuring a quiet apology one last time. Oscar just rolled his eyes, though there was no annoyance behind it.

“Come on, let’s get home before we freeze.” he smiled.

The two of you made your way to his house, the familiar sight of the front porch of his house coming into view. You slowed your steps as you approached, realizing that sneaking back inside was not going to work. Oscar’s soaked clothes clung to him, dripping water onto the pavement, and your own shoes squelched with each step. There was no hiding this from anyone.

Oscar gave you a pointed look. “You’re ringing the doorbell.”

You sighed but didn’t argue, stepping up to the door and pressing the doorbell. It wasn’t long before you heard soft footsteps from inside. The door creaked open, and Nicole stood there, face shifting from sleepy confusion to startled concern the moment she saw both you and Oscar.

“What on earth…?” she muttered, eyes scanning your drenched forms. She glanced behind you at the perfectly dry pavement and then back at you both, brow furrowing. “It didn’t rain tonight, what happened?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but she quickly ushered you both inside. “Come in, come in. You’re going to catch a cold standing out there like that.”

Once you were in the warmth of the house, she left for a moment and returned with two towels, handing one to you and the other to Oscar. You wrapped the towel around yourself, the fabric soaking up the cold water clinging to your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” you began, clutching the towel tightly. “It wasn’t my intention to get Oscar dragged into this.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, so you took it as a sign to continue. “We were just hanging out at the public pool, and when the security showed up, we didn’t have anywhere to hide, so we, uh, hid in the pool.”

At that, Nicole’s lips twitched, and then she laughed, a soft, warm sound that immediately eased the tension in your chest. “You two are really something else,” she said, shaking her head.

You blinked at her, surprised by her reaction. “You’re not mad?”

She smiled at you, expression fond. “No, of course I’m not mad. It’s just water. But next time, maybe pick a place where you won’t need to dive into a pool to avoid getting caught, hm?”

You nodded quickly, relieved. “I promise! And please don’t tell my parents.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Nicole smiled again, waving a hand dismissively. “Dry yourselves off, and Oscar, make sure you clean that scratch on your arm before you head to bed.”

Oscar glanced at the tear in his hoodie and nodded. “Yeah, I got it mum.”

Nicole turned to head back upstairs, but she paused, looking over her shoulder. “Oh, and you can stay the night if you want,” she said to you. “It’s so late, and you’re already here.”

You shook your head politely. “Thank you, but I’ll head home.”

She nodded in understanding, giving you both one last look. “Alright then. Oscar, don’t forget to lock the front door and turn off the lights before you head to bed.”

With that, Nicole headed back upstairs, her footsteps soft on the carpeted stairs. You and Oscar were left standing in the entryway, still damp but no longer worried about the consequences.

Oscar glanced at you, lips twitching as if he were about to laugh. “Well, that went better than expected,” he said, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Yeah,” you said, tugging the towel tighter around your shoulders. “Your mum’s the best.”

As a compensation for the troubles you had caused Oscar and waking up his mother, you decided to patch up his wound. You know exactly where their first aid kit was kept, so you wasted no time in retrieving it from the cabinet under the sink. The house was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of the floorboards beneath your wet shoes as you moved. With the kit in hand, you motioned for Oscar to sit at the kitchen counter.

“Come and sit, take off your hoodie. I’ll patch up your wound, it’s the least I can do for causing troubles,” you said softly, gesturing to the torn and bloodstained fabric.

Oscar hesitated for a moment but eventually tugged the hoodie over the head, wincing slightly when his arm brushed against the sleeve. He tossed the hoodie onto the back of a chair and sat down, resting his injured arm on the counter.

You opened the first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of antiseptic, some cotton pads, and a bandage. Setting everything down neatly, you grabbed a damp cloth first to clean the dried blood off of his skin. The scratch was not deep, but it stretched across his arm in a jagged line, red and raw.

“Alright, this might sting a little,” you warned, soaking a cotton pad with antiseptic and dabbing it gently onto the wound.

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, face scrunching up. “A little?” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Feels like you’re pouring fire on it.”

You couldn’t help but grin slightly at his reaction, though you kept your focus on his arm. Stop being dramatic, it’s not that bad.”

“Says the person not being burned alive right now,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

You rolled your eyes, pressing the cotton pad a little more carefully against the scratch. “If you keep moving, it’s going to take longer. Hold still.”

Oscar sighed and complied, sitting as still as he could while you worked. Once the wound was clean, you grabbed the fresh bandage and carefully wrapped it around his arm, making sure it was snug but not too tight.

“There,” you said, trying off the bandage and stepping back to inspect your handiwork. “All patched up!”

He glanced down at his arm and flexed it slightly, wincing a little. “Thanks, Doc,” he said with a small smile.

You began gathering the used cotton pads and other supplies, discarding them into the trash and returning the first aid kit to its usual spot. As you wiped your hands on the towel draped over your shoulders, Oscar leaned back in his chair, eyeing the fresh bandage.

“Think it’s gonna leave a scar?” he asked casually.

You paused for a moment, glancing at the scratch before shrugging. “Probably. But at least it’ll be a cool story.”

Oscar snorted. “Yeah, breaking into an abandoned pool and almost getting caught by security. Real cool.”

You smirked, folding the towel neatly and setting it aside. “You’ll thank me when you’re older and tell this to your kids. Your crazy aunt gave me this scar.’”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around just for the stories, huh?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile on your face. “Anyway, it’s late, or early, I guess. I should head home.”

Oscar stood up as you grabbed your jacket, which was still damp but less soaked than before. “I’ll walk you to the front door,” he offered.

The two of you made your way to the front door, house completely silent except for your footsteps. Oscar unlocked the door and held it open for you, the cool night air rushing in.

“Goodnight,” you said softly, stepping out onto the porch.

“Night,” Oscar replied, lingering in the doorway as you walked down the steps.

The streets were quiet as you made your way home, slipping into your yard and heading straight for the tool shed. You carefully returned the bolt cutter to its original place, making sure everything looked untouched. With that done, you grabbed the ladder that was leaning against the side of the house and quietly climbed up to your bedroom window. Halfway up, you paused and turned your head, glancing across to Oscar’s house, his bedroom window was lit dimly from the inside, and there he was, standing jusy behind the glass. Oscar noticed you looking and mouthed a goodnight, with a smile.

You smiled back and gave him a slight wave in return before turning back to your task. Pulling yourself through the open window, you landed softly on your bedroom floor, finally letting out a breath you had not realized that you were holding.

Years had passed since that night at the pool. Life, as it always did, moved forward, and the close bond you and Oscar had once shared slowly faded into memory. When Oscar left for the UK to pursue his racing career, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, even as you supported him wholeheartedly. It was a bittersweet goodbye without an actual farewell—you didn’t get to see him before he left. Instead, you relied on Nicole to pass along your best wishes, trusting that she would tell him everything you could not.

Not long after Oscar’s departure, your own life took a drastic turn. Your parents had finally decided to move to Sydney for better work opportunities, a decision that uprooted you from the neighborhood you had ever called home. The weeks leading up to the move were a whirlwind of packing boxes, sorting through childhood memorabilia, and saying goodbyes to the people who had been part of your life for so long—the Piastris were among the hardest to leave behind. Nicole hugged you tightly, and Chris offered his usual kind words, and Oscar’s sisters promised to write, though you all knew how unlikely that was to happen.

When the moving day came, you left quietly. There wasn’t much time for sentimentality—just final glance at the house you grew up in before climbing into the car. Sydney will be a fresh start for your family—as how your parents had put it, but you could not shake the feeling that you were leaving a piece of you behind.

The transition to Sydney was not easy, but somehow, you managed. The city was bigger, busier, and an unfamiliar territory, yet you adapted, throwing yourself into a routine that kept your mind occupied. You rarely thought about the past, though every now and then, something would remind you of Oscar—a fleeting mention of his name in news and online articles, or a memory that surfaced at the most unexpected times.

Nine months after moving to Sydney, something changed yet again. What started as fatigue and unexplained bruises turned into something far more serious. One day, your parents rushed you to the hospital after you fainted at home. Series of tests were run, questions were asked, and finally, a doctor say you down with an expression that left no room for doubt.

Stage two leukemia.

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. You felt entirely detached, as though they were speaking to someone else. Your parents’ reactions were immediate—your mother bursting into tears and your father was gripping your hand tightly. But you were just sitting there, silent and still. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You didn’t ask why this was happening to you. Instead, you felt a strange sense of calmness wash over you, a quiet acceptance that settled over you like a blanket. Maybe it was shock, or maybe it was the realization that no amount of questioning or anger would change what was already done.

Later that night, after the initial flurry of doctors and paperwork, you sat with your parents in the sterile quiet of your hospital room. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a pale glow on their worried faces. You looked at your parents, both were still trying to process what they had been told, and made a request.

“I don’t want anyone else to know,” you said firmly.

Your father frowned, forehead creasing deeply. “What do you mean? People will want to support you—”

“I mean it, dad,” you interrupted gently but resolutely. “Let’s keep this to ourselves. I don’t want anyone worrying about me.”

Your mother hesitated, voice breaking. “What about Nicole and Chris? They’re family to us—they’d want to know.”

You shook your head, your gaze steady. “No. Please. If they find out, they’ll tell Oscar, and I just don’t want him to worry. He’s got enough on his plate, he doesn’t need to hear about this.”

There was a long pause. Your parents exchanged a glance, the kind of silent conversation that only comes with years of partnership. Finally, your father sighed and nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want, we’ll respect it.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, leaning back against the pillows.

Just like that, the secret was sealed. Life shifted into a strange new rhythm—hospital visits, treatments, moments of hope, and days of despair. Through it all, you kept your diagnosis close to your chest, unwilling to burden anyone else with the weight of it.

It had been nearly a year of chemotherapy—long days of sitting in cold hospital rooms in silence, hooked up to IVs that dripped chemicals into your veins. Each session left you feeling more drained than the last, your body growing weaker as the fight dragged on. Still, you clung to the silver of hope that the treatments were doing something, anything, to slow down the disease. But hope has a way of unraveling.

Your latest round of tests came back, and the news was worse than you could have imagined. The chemotherapy was not working. Instead of improving, your condition had worsened, and now the doctors were delivering the words you had dreaded since the beginning.

Stage four.

You sat still inside the small consultation room, the sterile white walls closing in around you as the doctor explained your options. Words such as aggressive treatment and clinical trials floated in the air, but you were not really listening to what the doctor was saying. Your parents were, though—you could see the desperation in their faces as they clung to every word, searching for something to hold onto.

Later that night, at home, you lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling with the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on your chest. You thought about the past years, about how much you had endured and how little had come from it. The endless cycle of nausea, fatigue, and pain had left you feeling like a shadow of yourself. What was the point of continuing if it wasn't even making you better?

The next morning, you asked your parents to sit down with you in the living room. They looked at you with concern, sensing that this conversation was different. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before speaking.

“I want to stop the chemotherapy,” you said quietly but firmly.

Your mother’s eyes widened, a hand flying to her mouth. “What? No—you can’t mean that, honey. We’re fighting this, remember? You’ve been so strong—”

“I’ve been strong,” you whispered gently, meeting her gaze. “But I’m tired, mum. I’m so fucking tired. This treatment is no longer working on me. We all know damn well that it’s not working.”

Your father’s face was tense, his hands gripping the armrest of his chair. “The doctors said there are other options. Experimental treatments, new drugs—sweetheart, they haven’t given up on you, and neither should you.”

You sighed, trying to find the right words to make them understand. “I know you want me to keep fighting, and I love you for that. But this isn’t living anymore, every single day feels like a battle that I’m losing. I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left feeling like this.”

Tears welled up in your mother’s eyes as she reached for your hand. “There has to be something else that we can do. We can’t just stop.”

“I’m not giving up,” you said softly, squeezing her hand. “I’m just choosing a different path. The doctors mentioned alternatives, things that might help me feel better without the chemo. I want to try those instead, I want to focus on quality of life, not quantity.”

There was a long silence as your parents absorbed your words. Your father looked down at the floor, his jaw clenched, while your mother wiped at her tears. Finally, he spoke, voice low and strained.

“If this is what you want, okay, we’ll support you. But it’s not easy for us to accept.”

“I know,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I know it’s not easy. But this is what feels right for me.”

Your mother nodded through her tears, her grip on your hand tightening. “We’ll talk to the doctors tomorrow. We’ll figure out the alternatives.”

You leaned into your mother’s embrace, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow. It was not an easy decision, but it was yours, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.

You never thought that you would be back to where it all started. The sun was warm on your back as you stood in front of the old house, taking in the neighborhood that had once been so familiar. Everything seemed different now—houses, gardens, and even the way the air smelled, but the tree with the tyre swing still stood proudly in the front yard. The sight of it tugged at your chest, stirring a mix of nostalgia and longing. You remembered how you and Oscar used to spend hours climbing its sturdy branches, swinging so high on the tyre that your parents would often scold you to be careful.

You took a tentative step toward the tree, wondering if the names you and Oscar had carved into the bark were still there. You hadn’t really thought about that in years, but the memory was vivid of how the two of you had sat side by side, each clutching a small pocket knife that you were not supposed to have, giggling as you carefully etched your initials into the wood. Before you could reach the tree, a voice called out your name.

You turned around quickly, heart skipping a beat as you saw her—Nicole. Nicole just stood there, just as warm and welcoming as you remembered. Her face lit up in recognition, and before you could say anything, she crossed the distance between you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, arms wrapping around you with a familiar kind of affection that nearly brought tears to your eyes. “It’s been so long! Look at you—you’ve grown up so much.”

You smiled nervously as she pulled back, her hands still resting on your shoulders. “Hi, Mrs. P. It’s been a while.”

“Too long, my dear,” she said, voice tinged with both happiness and surprise. “I heard your family was back in town, but I didn’t think I’d run into you so soon! How are you? How are your parents?”

“They’re good,” you replied, voice steady despite the sudden nervousness creeping into your chest. “They’re inside, actually, talking to the realtor.”

Nicole nodded, eyes scanning your face with that same maternal kindness you remembered from your childhood. “And how are you, sweetheart? It’s been ages since I last saw you.”

Your throat tightened for a moment. She did not know. No one ever did, except your parents. You forced a small smile and nodded. “I’m doing okay. Just taking it one day at a time, you know?”

She smiled warmly, completely unaware of the weight behind your words. “That’s good to hear. It’s so nice to see you back, Brighton hasn’t been the same without you.”

You shifted slightly, glancing around the neighborhood before returning your gaze to her. “How’s everyone by the way? The whole family, especially the girls.”

“Oh they’re all doing great,” Nicole said brightly. “The girls are growing up so fast—you wouldn’t even recognize them! Then Oscar…”

At the mention of his name, your heart seemed to skip. You hadn’t thought about him in a very long time, and now, hearing his name felt both comforting and surreal.

“How’s Oscar?” you asked, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in your chest.

Nicole’s face lit up with pride. “Oh, he’s doing wonderfully! You wouldn’t believe it—he’s made it to F1! He was signed with McLaren.”

The words hit you like a burst of sunlight, flooding you with an overwhelming sense of happiness that you could not even describe. Your lips parted in surprise, and you felt your chest swell with pride.

“He did it?” you asked softly, almost in disbelief.

Nicole nodded, smile widening. “He did! It’s been such a journey for him, but he’s finally there. All those years of hard work have paid off.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I always knew he would make it. I never doubted it for a second.”

Nicole chuckled, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “He worked so hard for this, and I know he would love to see you. Oscar’s been so busy, especially with the races, but I’m sure that he’d be thrilled to know you’re back.”

You hesitated for a moment, the thought of seeing him again stirring a mix of emotions you were not quite ready to unpack. “That’s amazing,” you said finally, voice filled with genuine admiration. “I’m so proud of him.”

Nicole smiled knowingly, as if she could see just how much you meant it. “You should tell him that yourself sometime. I know that he’d love to hear it.”

You nodded, though you were not sure if you would.

You and your family are back yet again in Brighton. The day was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that made you feel every sound—rustle of leaves in the breeze, distant hum of cars passing by, faint creak of the porch beneath your weight. You were sitting there, knees pulled to your chest, gazing out at the familiar neighborhood that had shaped so many of your memories. It was strange to think that after today, this house, street, and view would no longer be yours.

Your parents were just inside the house, tying up loose ends with the realtor, discussing the final details of the sale. You had excused yourself, not wanting to be a part of it. The mere thought of walking through the now-empty rooms, stripped off the warmth and life they once held, felt too heavy. So you stayed outside, perched on the porch steps, letting the sights and sounds of Brighton seep into you one last time.

The air carried an unusual faint chill, and you hugged your arms around yourself as you scanned the street. It was still the same in many ways—neatly trimmed lawns, rows of houses with their uniform yet distinct façade. But it also felt different, as if time had moved on without you, leaving you as an observer rather than a participant. As your eyes wandered, something, or rather, someone had caught your attention. You straightened slightly, squinting to make sure that you were not imagining things. Walking down the sidewalk, with an easy familiar stride, was Oscar.

For a moment, you were struck by how much he had changed. He carried himself differently now, more confident, assured, as if the years away had molded him into someone who fully belonged in the world he had always dreamed of. But that was not what held your attention. Beside Oscar, her arm lightly brushing against his, was a girl. She was gorgeous in an effortless way that made it impossible to look away. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight, her laughter rang out softly as she spoke to Oscar, and her smile was the kind that lit up her whole face.

You felt it then—a sharp, unbidden pang in your chest. It was not jealousy, not exactly. It was something deeper, aching. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them, from the way they walked together, so perfectly in sync, so natural. They looked so good together, like a pair that had been meant to find each other. And you? You just sat there, still and silent, feeling like an intruder on a moment that was not meant for you to see.

You hated the way how your mind began to spiral, unearthing old, buried feelings that you had tried so hard to forget and ignore. You thought you had moved past it, but now, sitting there, it was undeniable. You had loved Oscar, or at least something close to it. You never admitted it to anyone, not even to yourself. But it had always been there, in the way your heart quickened when he smiled at you, in a way you always wanted to make him laugh, in the way you looked for him in every crowded room.

But you never told him. How could you? He was Oscar—steady, kind, driven, and you were you. A troublemaker. Reckless. Always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that someone like him could never feel the same way about you, that you were not the kind of person he would ever want.

But now, watching him with her, it only proved what you had always known deep down. They looked perfect together, in a way you could never imagine yourself fitting into his life. She had the kind of refinement and grace that seemed effortless, while you were rough around the edges and acting on impulsive decisions.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away, but it was already too late. The image of them, of Oscar, was already etched into your mind, and as you sat there, you chest heavy with an ache you couldn’t shake, you knew that saying goodbye to this house and street was not the hardest part of leaving Brighton.

The hardest part was letting go of something you never truly had.

You were standing by your family car, hands crossed to your chest, waiting for your parents to finish up inside when you heard someone call your name. Turning, you saw Nicole walking briskly towards you, face lighting up as she reached you. Before you could even say anything, she had already extended an invitation for you and your family to come over to their house for the afternoon.

You hesitated, glancing towards your parents who were just stepping out of the house. A quiet panic bubbled inside you, this was not what you were expecting, and you certainly were not in the mood to socialize. But you did not want to be rude, especially to Nicole who had always been warm and kind. So, with a quiet nod, you agreed.

The Piastri house hadn’t changed that much. The familiar scent of home cooking and the subtle hum of conversation greeted you the moment you stepped through the door. Your parents were warmly embraced by Nicole, their chatter filling up the air as if no time had passed since your last visit. You lingered near the entryway, unsure of where to place yourself, when you heard excited voices. Hattie, Edie, and Mae appeared out of nowhere, voices high-pitched with excitement as they spotted you.

Before you could even say a word, they wrapped you in a tight group hig, their arms squeezing you with an intensity that left you breathless. You tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a wheeze, your words muffled by the weight of their embrace.

“Alright, let her breathe!” Oscar’s voice cut through the chaos.

The three of them reluctantly stepped back, each of their faces flushed with excitement. You caught your breath, offering a weak smile as they began firing a series of questions at you in rapid succession.

“How have you been?”

“What are you up to these days?”

“How are you finding Sydney?”

The questions came at you like a tidal wave, and you barely managed to mumble a response before another question followed. It was overwhelming, too much all at once, and just when you felt yourself starting to falter, Oscar intervened again.

“Okay, that’s enough interrogation,” he said, tone light but firm as he stepped between you and his sisters. “Give her a minute to breathe, yeah?”

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Now, it was just you and Oscar, and the silence between you felt louder than anything his sisters had said. You looked at him, unsure of what to really say or where to start, and in the end, you settled for the safest and simplest thing you could ever think of.

“Congratulations by the way,” you said, voice quieter than you intended. “On making it to F1.”

His lips curved into a smile, soft and genuine. “Thanks. It’s been a crazy few years.”

You nodded, really unsure of how to respond, and the silence threatened to stretch on uncomfortably. But then he added, “I’m back in Australia for the Grand Prix.”

“Oh, that’s amazing,” you said, meaning it. “I’m proud of you, Osc. Really.”

Oscar tilted his head slightly, a smile turning into a more playful one. “You still don’t watch the races, though, do you?”

You laughed softly, the sound surprising even you. “No. It’s still not my thing.”

“Figures,” he said, laughing along with you.

The moment felt almost normal, a small glimpse of the easy connection you used to share. But it was fleeting. Oscar shifted slightly, his expression changing as he turned towards the doorway.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, tone casual. “I want you to meet Lily, my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

Lily. There she was. She stepped into view, her presence effortless and magnetic. Up close, she was even more stunning than you had realized, her features flawless and her demeanor warm. She smiled at you, and it was not forced or polite, it was kind, genuine, disarmingly sweet, and most of all, welcoming.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, extending a hand. Her voice was soft, yet it carried an ease that made you feel immediately out of place. “Oscar had told me so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you shook her hand, offering a small smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

As she spoke, her kindness and charm were really undeniable, and you found yourself unable to summon any ill will towards her—it even made you feel bad for even thinking about something badly about Lily. She was lovely, perfect even, and though you wanted to find a reason to dislike her, you couldn’t. Lily was everything you were not—poised, polished, radiant.

The three of you stood there, exchanging conversations. You couldn’t help but take in the way Oscar looked at Lily—the softness in his eyes, the way his smile lingered when he spoke to her. It was clear how much she meant to him, and as much as it stung. You felt a lump rise in your throat, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to smile and nod along to the conversation.

It was going to be a very long day, and you just have to get through it. You reminded yourself that this was not about you—it never had been.

The Piastri household was buzzing with life as the afternoon was painted with golden hues. Inside, everyone seemed immersed in their own words. Your parents were deep in conversation with Nicole, their laughter and voices carrying through the air as they caught up on years of life. Hattie, Edie, and Mae were busy entertaining themselves, their giggles occasionally echoing from another room. Oscar and Lily sar close together, their connection evident in the way they talked and laughed, though they were kind enough to include you in the occasional exchange.

Observing what was happening around you, you can’t help but feel out of place, as though you were floating on the edges of a scene that didn’t belong to you anymore. You forced a polite smile, and excused yourself with a mumbled explanation about needing to grab something from the car. No one seemed to question it, and you slipped out of the house unnoticed.

As you closed the door behind you, you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. The tension that had coiled tight in your chest while you were inside slowly began to unwind. You stuffed your hand into your black leather jacket pockets and started down the quiet street, letting your feet guide you without much thought.

The familiar streets brought a wave of nostalgia, and as you walked, your mind wandered back to simpler days. Eventually, you found yourself wondering if that small family-owned store—one where you and Oscar used to visit after his karting victories, was still there. It felt like eons ago, but the memory was sharp and vivid—you and Oscar bursting through the shop’s door, with Oscar still giddy from the races, and celebrating his win with an ice cream as though it were the most important ritual in the world.

When you turned the corner, there it was. The modest storefront stood just as it had all those years ago, the paint already slightly faded but otherwise unchanged. The familiar bell above the door chimes as you step inside, and the scent of sweet, aged wood mixed with the faint aroma of candy hits you instantly. The store looked exactly the same. Shelves lined with old fashioned sweets, rows of snacks, and that unmistakable freezer filled with ice cream in the corner. Your eyes scanned the small shop, and behind the counter stood great old Uncle Roger, his face lighting up with recognition as he spotted you.

“Well, well,” he said, settling down a box he had been unpacking. “If it isn’t trouble itself!”

A wide grin spread across your face. “Hey Uncle Roger,” you greeted warmly. “You still remember me?”

He chuckled, stepping around the counter to stand in front of you. “Of course, I do! How could I forget the little rascal who used to hide in my back room to hide from the chaos she caused and would sometimes scare my customers away?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, really?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Need I remind you of the time you pulled that prank with the balloons and the flour? Or the time you locked that bou Tommy out of the store and wouldn’t let him back in?”

You laughed again. “Okay, maybe a little chaos.”

“And poor Oscar,” he continued, tone light. “You used to drag him into all your mischief. That boy was too patient for his own good.”

You softly chucked as you nodded. “Guilty as charged,” you admitted. “Though, to be fair, Oscar was a willing accomplice most of the time.”

Uncle Roger let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the small shop. “That he was. Good kid, though, and look at him now—a big shot race. His folks must be over the moon.”

“They are,” you said, smiling faintly.

“And what about you?” Uncle Roger asked, rone softening as he studied you. “What have you been up to all these years? You look different. Grown up.”

You hesitated, not wanting to delve too deeply into everything. “Life has been…pretty interesting,” you replied vaguely. “Moved to Sydney, tried to figure things out. It’s been a ride, that’s for sure.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing there was more to the story, but he did not push. “Well, you’ve always been a fighter,” Uncle Roger said kindly. “I’m sure whatever it is, you’re handling it like a champ.”

You smiled at his words, though a part of you felt the weight of them in a way he could not even understand. “Thanks, Uncle Roger,” you said softly.

He grinned again, stepping back towards the counter. “Now, I assume you didn’t just come in here to reminisce. Let me guess—you’re here for the ice cream, aren’t you? Same flavor as always?”

You laughed, a genuine sound this time, and nodded. “It wouldn’t feel right to leave without it.”

“Coming right up,” he said, already moving to the freezer. “Some things never really change, do they?”

The hours slipped by without you even realizing it. Time seemed to pause within the walls of Uncle Roger’s store, the air filled with the nostalgic hum of its old ceiling fan and the occasional chime of the doorbell. You had taken it upon yourself to help behind the counter, ringing up purchases and chatting with customers as though you had been working at the store for years. It wasn’t part of the plan, but when Uncle Roger had laughed and handed you an apron, you could not resist.

“I’ve always wanted to work at a place like this,” you had told him earlier with a grin, and he’d chuckled. “Well, here’s your chance to experience it. Just don’t scare off the customers,” he’d teased before heading to the back to work on inventory.

Now, perched on a stool behind the counter, you twirled a lollipop between your fingers, its sugary sweetness lingering on your tongue. The small television mounted by the corner played a rerun of an old sitcom, the laughter track punctuating the quietness of the store. You glanced at the clock, realizing just how much time had passed since you had walked through the door, but you didn’t mind.

The familiar chime of the doorbell pulled your attention back to the counter, and you straightened instinctively. “Hello, welcome to Uncle Roger’s!” you greeted brightly, a practiced smile already in place.

When your eyes landed on the customer, your heart skipped. It was Oscar.

Oscar’s smile was warm and slightly amused as he approached the counter. “I had a feeling that you would be here,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of the counter, eyes flicking to the apron you wore, and his smile widened. “But I didn’t expect to find you working.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Well, it’s not everyday you get to live out a childhood dream. I figured, why not?”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly. “Of course you would.”

He made his way to the drinks section, scanning the shelves before grabbing a couple of items. When he returned, he placed the drinks on the counter in front of you. You glanced at them as you reached for the scanner, hands immediately pausing when you recognized the brightly colored packaging.

It was a sunshine punch. Two juice boxes.

Your eyes flickered to Oscar briefly. “Sunshine punch, really?” you asked casually, though you couldn’t hide the slight surprise in your tone. “I thought you hated this stuff.”

He shrugged, expression unreadable. “Maybe my taste has changed,” he said simply.

You just hummed un acknowledgement, though you couldn’t help but wonder. From what you had remembered, he could barely stand the smell of it, let alone drink it. Then you wondered, maybe it was for Lily and him, you thought silently, and the thought of it tugged at something in your chest.

As you rang up the items, you kept your tone professional, if not, a bit playful. “Would you like to bag these?” you asked.

Oscar shook his head, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “No bag, thanks. Gotta save the turtles, right?”

You laughed softly at that, handing him the total. “Fair point,” you said, watching as he counted out the cash. You handed him his change, slipping into a mockingly formal tone. “Thank you for shopping at Uncle Roger’s, please come again!”

The two of you burst into laughter at how silly you sounded, with your laughter filling the quiet store. It felt easy, natural—like stepping back into a moment frozen in time. But as the laughter faded, a sigh escaped your lips, unbidden.

Oscar laughed outright at that, shaking his head as he pocketed his change. “You sound way too serious. Are you sure you haven’t secretly been doing this for years?”

You chuckled, leaning your arms on the counter. “Hey, I’m just trying to be professional. Gotta make a good impression on the boss.”

“How about we go to that public pool that we used to go to as kids?” Oscar said as he lingered near the counter while you glanced back at him, processing his unexpected suggestion.

“The abandoned pool?” you repeated softly, a mix of surprise and curiosity in your voice.

It had been years since you had even thought about that place, let alone considered even going back there. The idea felt surreal.

“Yeah, it’s still around,” he said with a small shrug, tone casual, though there was a glint of something, maybe akin to nostalgia, in his eyes.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure. Alright, let’s go,” you agreed.

You head towards the back of the store, pushing open the swinging door to find Uncle Roger hunched over his clipboard, meticulously counting boxes.

“Hey Uncle Roger,” you called gently, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up from his work, expression softening when he saw you. “Finished already?”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I think I’m going to clock out for the day. Oscar and I are heading out for a bit.”

Uncle Roger’s gaze flickered to the counter, where Oscar was waiting patiently. A wide grin spread across his face as he stepped out from behind the storage shelves.

“Well, now. Look who decided to stick around,” he said, tone warm and teasing. “And in my shop, no less. Oscar Piastri, the Formula 1 driver!”

Oscar laughed lightly, hands tucked into his pockets. “You make it sound way more impressive than it is, Uncle Roger,” he replied modestly.

“Nonsense,” Uncle Roger said with a wave of his hand. “I always knew you were destined for greatness the moment you sat in that kart. It’s good to see you, son.”

Oscar smiled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s good to see you too.”

Uncle Roger’s attention turned back to you, eyes twinkling. “Having you two here today, it’s just like the old times,” he said with a wistful sigh. “You, running around causing trouble, and Oscar, trying to keep up.”

You chuckled, feeling a wave of warmth at his words. “Well, as you said, some things never really change,” you said lightly.

Uncle Roger patted your shoulder. “You’ve been a big help today, my dear. I’ve been meaning to start on that inventory for weeks, but I couldn’t leave the counter. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Anytime,” you said earnestly. “I’ll visit whenever I’m back in Brighton, I promise.”

He nodded, expression softening even further. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Before leaving, you stepped forward to give him a hug, the kind of hug that lingered just long enough to let him know how much his kindness meant to you. You removed the apron and switched it for your black leather jacket. Oscar chimed in with a quick ‘take care, Uncle Roger,’ and you both made your way out of the store, the bell chiming softly behind you.

Relief mingled with a touch of surprise as you nodded your head. “Alright then.”

When you arrived at the abandoned public pool, it was like stepping back in time—a time capsule. The cool air carried a faint scent of earth and old concrete, and the quiet hum of the town surrounded you. You immediately made your way to the part of the chain-link fence that you had cut through all those years ago. A crude, jagged hole that had somehow withstood the test of time. You crouched down to inspect it, your fingers brushing the edges of the worn out metal.

“I can’t believe that it’s still here,” you said softly, more to yourself than Oscar.

The faintest smile tugged at your lips when you noticed the hole had clearly become a regular entrance for others. “Looks like I set the blueprint for sneaking in, huh?”

Oscar chuckled behind you, voice warm. “Yeah, you’re a trendsetter,” he teased.

You ducked through the opening in the fence, Oscar following close behind. The pool area was almost unrecognizable, yet unmistakably the same. The once-pristine tiles were faded and cracked, the pool itself empty and hollow, walls were now layered with colorful graffiti—messages, drawings, and names scrawled over one another in a chaotic tapestry. Though the old sunbeds still lined the deck, many were now broken and rusted. The whole place felt frozen in time, yet irrevocably changed.

Your gaze landed on one particular sunbed, its white paint chipped and the straps slightly frayed. “Oh, that’s the one,” you murmured, walking over to it.

Dusting it off with your hands, you lowered yourself onto the sunbed, letting the weight of the moment settle over you. Above, the stars were scattered across the vast expanse of the night sky, their light faint but steady. The air was still, and for a while, it felt like the world beyond the place didn’t exist. Oscar settled down on the sunbed beside you, legs stretched out, and arms resting on his knees. Like you, his gaze was fixed on the sky. For a long time, neither of you spoke, the silence between you comfortable—familiar.

You were so lost in your thoughts, mind drifting through memories of this place, that you didn’t notice Oscar moving until you felt something brush against your hand. Turning your head, you saw him holding out a juice box of sunshine punch. The drink you thought that Oscar bought a shop were for someone else, turns out that it was for the two of you.

Your breath hitched slightly as your eyes darted from the juice box to his face. “You bought this for me?”

Oscar smiled, a little sheepishly. “For us,” he corrected. “Figured it’d be fitting.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you took the juice box from his hand, the cool surface pressing against your palm. “Thanks, Osc,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You popped the straw into the box, taking a slow sip. The familiar tangy-sweet flavor hit your tongue, and for a moment, you could almost imagine that you were back to being kids again—hanging out in the abandoned public pool, celebrating one of Oscar’s karting wins with ice cream from Uncle Roger’s, inciting chaos, and never ending laughter.

Breaking the stillness, Oscar’s voice came, quiet but steady. “How are you?”

It was a simple question that has an easy answer to it, but the question hung in the air, heavy despite its simplicity. You paused, gaze fixed on the sky above. After a moment, you decided to answer, keeping your tone light.

“I’m fine.”

Oscar turned his head towards you, his expression curious but patient, waiting for you to elaborate. You took another sip of your drink, stalling for time. Finally, you added, “you know, the usual. Just…life.”

It was not much of an answer to Oscar’s question, really, and you knew it. But it was the only answer that you were willing to give him. You’re glad that he didn’t push, though his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked back up the sky.

“Any plans?” he asked after a pause.

You exhaled softly, lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Plans,” you repeated, as if testing the word. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve stopped making them.”

Oscar’s brows furrowed slightly at your answer, and you felt his gaze on you again. You tilted your head back, eyes tracing the constellations.

“Plans are funny, you know?” you continued, voice thoughtful. “You make them, and then shit happens. Sometimes, you end up where you thought you’d be, and other times…” you trailed off, shrugging lightly.

Oscar tilted his head slightly, watching you.

You smiled faintly, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s like what I told you back then? Last time that we were here, on the exact same sunbeds we’re sitting on—wherever life takes me, right?”

He smiled at that, the memory lighting up his expression. “Wherever life takes you,” he repeated softly, as if testing the words in his own voice.

“You know…Lily’s amazing,” you said, tone light but sincere. “She’s a very lovely girl, Oscar. I mean, she’s gorgeous, obviously, but more than that. She’s kind, and has this certain warmth to her that makes it impossible not to like her.”

Oscar glanced at you, a small smile forming on his lips. “She really is,” he agreed softly, voice carrying a sense of pride.

You nodded, your own smile growing. “You two are like a perfect match. Yin and yang, you know? She really balances you out. You know that you’ve always been on the quieter side, but Lily brings out the best and talkative part of you.”

Oscar chuckled at your statement, eyes briefly meeting yours. “She definitely doesn’t let me stay quiet for long.”

You laughed softly, though your thoughts remained bittersweet. “I saw the way she looks at you,” you continued. “It’s so full of love. It’s the kind of look people dream of, you know? You’re really lucky to have her.”

His expression shifted slightly, as though he was not sure how to respond to the unexpected depth of your words. He gave a small nod, his smile turning a little shy.

“I’m proud of you, Oscar. Really.” you added, voice a little quieter now. “For finding someone like Lily. She’s good for you, and I’m happy knowing that she’ll be there for you.”

There was a pause before you continued on, tone suddenly turning more painful, though there was a weight beneath the lightness of it. “At least now I know that someone will be by your side when I’m gone.”

Oscar frowned slightly, he felt a little chill and was caught off guard by your words. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, confused.

You hesitated for a moment, quickly realizing how your words could have sounded. You forced a small laugh, hoping to brush it off. “I just mean, you know, since I had moved to Sydney,” you said, tone casual. “I’m not here anymore. I can’t be by your side like I used to back when we were kids.”

His expression softened, though he still seemed a little bit puzzled by your words. You just smiled softly, looking up again as you added, “but it’s okay. You’ve got Lily now, and she’s amazing. You’re in good hands.”

The walk back from the abandoned public pool was quiet. The kind of quiet that was not uncomfortable, but heavy with so many unspoken words. The sound of your boots scuffing against the pavement and the faint rustling of leaves in the cool night air were the only things breaking the silence. Your hand stayed inside the pockets of your black leather jacket, the smooth lining a small comfort against the cold night.

Oscar walked beside you, his own steps steady and unhurried. You could feel his presence, solid and familiar, yet neither of you made any effort to fill the stillness. There was nothing pressing to say, and perhaps, that was enough.

When you finally turned the corner leading back to your neighborhood, the headlights of your parent’s car came into view, cutting through the dim light of the street. Your parents were standing beside it, their postures relaxed but expectant, while Nicole leaned casually against the hood, arms crossed. As soon as they spotted you, your mother straightened up, relief softening her features.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, voice a mix of mild concern and amusement. “We were starting to wonder where you’d gone off to.”

Oscar was quick to answer, tone light and easy. “We were at Uncle Roger’s shop, just catching up.”

Your father nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, while Nicole’s expression softened, her gaze flitting between you and Oscar. “It’s so good to see the two of you spending time together again,” she said warmly.

Your mother stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “We should get going, sweetheart,” she said softly, eyes kind but tired.

The goodbyes came swiftly after that, each one carrying its own weight. Nicole pulled you into a tight embrace, warmth and familiar scent grounding you for a moment. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she said, voice quiet but firm.

When Nicole let go, it was Oscar’s turn. He stepped closer, arms wrapping around you with a firmness that caught you off guard. It was not one of those quick, polite hugs—it was the kind of embrace that lingered, as if he were trying to hold onto something fleeting.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” he murmured, voice low and sincere. Then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a small, boyish grin appearing on his face. “And you have to come to my race one of these days. No more excuses.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Alright, we’ll see,” you said lightly, though you both knew it was not a promise.

With that, you turned and walked towards the car. As you reach for the door handle, something makes you glance back over your shoulder. Oscar was still standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, watching you with an unreadable expression. You gave him a soft smile, lifting your hand in a casual salute. He returned the gesture, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Sliding into the backseat of the car, you buckle your seatbelt as your father starts the car. The low rumble of the engine filled the silence, and as the car began to pull away, you could not resist a one last look at Oscar through the rearview mirror. Oscar was still standing there, framed by the faint glow of the streetlights, his figure growing smaller and smaller until he disappeared from the view entirely.

You did not look back again, you never looked back. But something in you stirred—a quiet, unshakable feeling that this night, this moment, would never come again. Neither of you could have known that this would be the very last time you would see each other. The very last time Oscar would ever see you.

[miakat9]

the neighbor effect

pairing : oscar piastri x reader

oneshot

word count : 9,449

summary : Y/N moves to Monaco for a fresh start, thinking it’s just gonna be her, baking, and figuring things out. Then there’s her neighbor, Oscar—super chill, always around, but completely mysterious. They bond over cookies and muffins, and Y/N has no idea that he’s actually a Formula 1 driver. But when the Monaco Grand Prix weekend rolls around, everything goes haywire when Y/N realizes she’s been living next to someone way more famous than she ever imagined. Between all the confusion, a surprise kiss, and the chaos that follows, Y/N’s not sure if she’s in over her head—or if she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

note : i had to rewrite parts of this over and over again. this is my longest fic so far, lets clap it up. i actually cooked with this one, please like it.

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Moving to Monaco in the middle of December sounded a lot more glamorous in theory. In reality, I spent my first night huddled under three mismatched blankets, seriously debating whether the heating in my shiny new apartment was broken or if this was just what Mediterranean winter felt like.

I’d moved here for a fresh start, something about leaving old baggage behind and stepping into the next chapter of my life. Except no one tells you that starting over often means spending a lot of time alone, wondering if you made the right decision.

That’s how I found myself in the hallway on my second day, struggling to carry a too-large box labeled Kitchen Stuff & Regret. I hadn’t realized how much I’d overpacked until I was halfway to my door, my arms trembling under the weight.

“Need a hand?”

The voice startled me, and I nearly dropped the box. I turned to see a guy standing a few feet away, wearing a black hoodie, gray joggers, and a curious expression.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” I lied, immediately regretting it as the box tilted precariously.

“Right,” he said, clearly unconvinced. Without waiting for permission, he stepped forward and took the box from me like it weighed nothing.

“Show-off,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help but smile.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Just being neighborly.”

“Thanks,” I said as he followed me to my door. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Oscar,” he replied, setting the box down inside my apartment.

Up close, I could see he was probably around my age—early twenties—with sharp features and an easy confidence about him. He glanced around my half-unpacked living room, taking in the mess of boxes and furniture.

“Just moved in?” he asked.

“Yeah. Trying to figure out where I want everything before I give up and let chaos take over.”

He smiled, nodding toward the box. “Well, good luck with that. I’m right across the hall if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” I said, leaning against the doorframe as he stepped back into the hallway.

“See you around,” he said with a nod before disappearing into his apartment.

And just like that, I had my first real interaction with the mysterious neighbor across the hall.

After he left, I stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the closed door across from mine like it might open again. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. With a shrug, I kicked the box into the living room, officially declaring it a problem for Future Me.

The next few days were a blur of unpacking, assembling furniture, and discovering that Monaco in December was a lot colder than I’d prepared for. Gone were my delusions of sipping coffee on the balcony in the morning sun. Instead, I huddled inside, bundled in my coziest hoodie, and watched the world outside through the frost-slicked windows.

Oscar, true to his enigmatic vibe, was nowhere to be seen. A part of me wondered if he was some kind of ghost who only materialized to save clumsy new neighbors and then vanished into the ether. But his sporadic comings and goings proved otherwise—sometimes I’d hear the ding of the elevator late at night or the faint shuffle of footsteps in the hallway. I never caught him, though.

Until one particularly cold Saturday morning.

I was juggling a steaming mug of coffee, my phone, and a box of garbage bags as I headed for the trash chute at the end of the hall. The scene was already precarious, but things got worse when my phone buzzed with a notification. I glanced down instinctively, and that was my fatal error.

One wrong step, and my foot caught on absolutely nothing because I’m just that talented. I stumbled forward, my coffee cup slipping from my grasp in a glorious slow-motion arc.

“Oh, sh—”

A hand shot out, catching the cup mid-air.

“Impressive,” came the familiar voice.

I turned, my face hot with embarrassment, to see Oscar standing there, coffee cup in one hand and an amused smirk on his face. He was in the same casual uniform as before—hoodie, joggers, and sneakers—but this time with a beanie pulled low over his head.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I said, trying to play it cool despite the very uncool way I’d almost face planted.

“You’re welcome,” he said, handing me the cup.

“How do you keep showing up exactly when I’m about to embarrass myself?”

“Great timing, I guess,” he replied, leaning against the wall.

I could tell he was holding back a laugh, which only made me more flustered. “Do you just hang out in the hallway waiting for me to trip over thin air, or…?”

“Caught me,” he said, deadpan. “It’s my new hobby.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Well, thanks for the save… again.”

“No problem.” He glanced down at the garbage bags I’d dropped in the chaos. “You planning to carry all that to the chute by yourself, or should I brace for round two of Disaster Neighbor?”

“Ha, ha,” I said, handing him a bag. “Since you’re offering, you might as well help.”

third pov

By the time they made it to the trash chute, Y/N had successfully recovered from her near wipeout—mostly. Oscar, on the other hand, seemed far too amused by the whole thing.

“So,” she said, trying to fill the silence as they walked back to their apartments. “Do you just live in the gym, or are you naturally good at catching falling objects and lifting heavy things?”

He shrugged. “Bit of both.”

“Not much of a talker, huh?”

He glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I talk when there’s something to say.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Mysterious and vague. Classic.”

They stopped outside her door, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence. She fiddled with the sleeve of her hoodie, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were standing.

“Well, thanks for the help. Again.”

“Anytime,” he said, his tone casual but warm.

She opened her door, stepping inside. As she turned to close it, she caught him glancing down the hallway, like he was debating something.

“See you around?” she offered.

“Yeah,” he said, meeting her gaze. “See you around.”

The door clicked shut, and Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She leaned against the door for a moment, her mind replaying the interaction like a movie montage.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And for now, that was enough.

y/n’s pov

It all started with a craving and a little too much confidence.

Baking had always been my go-to for stress relief, but I tended to overestimate how much one person could realistically eat before things got weird. Case in point: the mountain of oatmeal walnut cookies currently cooling on every flat surface of my kitchen.

“Great job, Y/N,” I muttered, surveying the sugary battlefield. “Really nailed the whole moderation thing.”

The smell of warm cinnamon and toasted walnuts was amazing, but even I had limits. Unless I planned on eating cookies for every meal for the next week—which, tempting as it sounded, probably wasn’t the move—I needed a plan.

That’s when my eyes flicked toward the door across the hall.

My neighbor hadn’t been home much, but when he was, he seemed nice enough. And if anyone looked like they could put away an entire batch of cookies without breaking a sweat, it was the guy who casually caught flying coffee cups and lifted trash bags like they were empty.

Grabbing a plate, I stacked a neat pile of cookies on it, covering them with foil. I debated for a second, wondering if this was too random, but then I thought, What’s the worst that could happen? Worst case: no one’s home, and I keep the cookies. Best case: I earn brownie points—or, well, cookie points—with the mysterious dude across the hall.

Balancing the plate in one hand, I opened my door and stepped into the hallway.

third pov

Y/N hesitated in front of Oscar’s door, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet the hallway was. For all she knew, he could’ve been halfway across the world. But before she could talk herself out of it, she raised her free hand and knocked lightly.

There was a pause, long enough for her to start retreating, but then she heard the lock turn.

The door opened to reveal Oscar, looking a little rumpled but still effortlessly put-together in a hoodie and sweats. His hair stuck up slightly, like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Uh, hey,” Y/N started, holding up the plate like an offering. “I, um, baked too many cookies and thought… maybe you’d want some?”

For a second, Oscar just blinked at her. Then a small smile tugged at his lips, softening his usual stoic expression. “Cookies?”

“Oatmeal walnut,” she said, suddenly feeling a little ridiculous. “Unless you’re allergic to walnuts. In which case, I’m so sorry, and I’ll just—”

“I’m not allergic,” he cut in, stepping aside. “Come in.”

y/n’s pov

I followed him into his apartment, still holding onto the slightly awkward feeling of standing at someone’s door with a plate of cookies. His space was immaculate—like a showroom. Sleek black counters, stainless steel appliances, and not a single thing out of place. My own apartment, with its half-unpacked boxes and cluttered surfaces, suddenly felt like a war zone by comparison.

“Wow,” I said, glancing around. “Your place is… ridiculously clean. Do you live here or just visit?”

He smirked as he placed the plate of cookies on the counter. “I’m not here much. It’s easier to keep clean when you’re gone half the time.”

“Fair,” I said, leaning against the counter as he peeled the foil off the plate. “Meanwhile, my place looks like I’m hoarding cardboard boxes and random piles of clothes. Maybe I’ll just hire you to organize for me.”

He glanced up, an amused glint in his eye. “I’ll pass. But thanks for the offer.”

I laughed. “That was fast. I didn’t even get to bribe you with more cookies.”

“Speaking of,” he said, picking one up and turning it over in his hand like he was inspecting it for quality control, “what made you bake… this many?”

“Stress,” I admitted, crossing my arms. “Unpacking is the worst. Plus, I’m a chronic over-baker. I think I made about sixty.”

He raised an eyebrow, taking a bite. “Sixty?”

“Give or take.”

“You know there’s only one of you, right?”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said with a grin. “I figured I’d share the wealth.”

He nodded, chewing thoughtfully. After a moment, he swallowed and said, “These are good.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you? Be honest.”

“I’m serious,” he said, reaching for another. “If I didn’t like them, you’d know.”

“Good to know you don’t sugarcoat things,” I said. “No pun intended.”

“Sure it wasn’t,” he said with a small smirk.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “You’re lucky I like honesty. Anyway, I hope you’re hungry because I’ve got a whole army’s worth of these across the hall.”

“I can tell,” he said, grabbing a second cookie. “You ever thought about selling these?”

“Selling cookies? No, not really,” I said, a little flustered by the compliment. “I mean, it’s just a hobby.”

He leaned against the counter, taking another bite. “Could be a profitable hobby.”

“Oh yeah? Think I could make it big with oatmeal walnut cookies? Maybe I’ll start a cookie empire.”

“Could be worth a shot,” he said, his tone completely serious, though I could see the hint of humor in his expression.

“Alright, well, if I go global, I’ll make sure to mention you in my TED Talk about chasing my dreams,” I said with a laugh.

“Appreciate it,” he said, deadpan.

I shook my head, still smiling. “Alright, I should get going. Don’t want to interrupt your… whatever you were doing before I showed up.”

He glanced toward his living room, where a laptop sat open on the coffee table. “Wasn’t doing much. Just catching up on some things.”

“Well, now you’ve got cookies to keep you company,” I said, pushing off the counter.

“Thanks for these,” he said, walking with me toward the door. “They’re seriously good.”

“Anytime,” I replied. “And if you ever need more… or, you know, want to start organizing my apartment, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, opening the door for me.

I stepped into the hallway and turned back to face him. “Enjoy the cookies, Oscar.”

“Thanks, Y/N. See you around.”

As the door clicked shut behind me, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. It was such a simple interaction, but it left me feeling lighter somehow—like I was finally settling into this new life, one cookie and awkward conversation at a time.

third pov

The morning light streaming through the kitchen window felt different today, like a fresh start. Y/N stood at the counter, stirring a bowl of banana bread batter with a slight smile on her face. She had a steady rhythm, something she had found comfort in since moving to Monaco. Today, however, was different. She wasn't just baking for herself or because she had nothing else to do.

After dropping off the cookies to Oscar yesterday, she’d felt an odd rush of excitement. Oscar hadn’t said much—just thanked her and ate them right there—but there was something in the way he seemed genuinely happy that had sparked an idea in her head.

Maybe I should actually consider this...

She’d been thinking about it all night, the thought gnawing at her in the quiet moments before sleep. A job. Something more than just living off her savings while she figured out what to do with herself. The idea of working in a bakery, helping people start their day with something sweet, didn’t sound half bad. Maybe she’d make some friends along the way, too.

She paused mid-stir to glance around her kitchen. It was quiet—too quiet. Her move to Monaco had been a whirlwind, and while the city was beautiful, the loneliness had crept in unexpectedly. She had only met Oscar three times, and those encounters hadn't been enough to spark a friendship, though he had been kind enough to compliment the cookies she’d given him. But she still didn't have his number. She had no way of reaching out to him for anything beyond another casual greeting if their paths crossed again.

With a sigh, she refocused on her muffin batter. The oven was preheated and ready for the batch of banana muffins she had planned. She didn’t even need the muffins for herself—she simply needed something to do.

She scrolled through a few ads on her phone for bakeries and cafes around Monaco, her fingers flying across the screen as she filled out application after application. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the start of something new.

The smell of ripe bananas filled the room, and Y/N smiled. There was something simple and grounding about baking. She didn’t need anyone else to validate her, but a small part of her wished she had someone to share the muffins with. Maybe she would take a batch to one of the cafes she’d applied to, just to show that she could bake more than just cookies.

The timer went off, signaling that the muffins were done. She pulled them from the oven, their golden tops warm and inviting. As she arranged them on a cooling rack, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a step in the right direction.

Oscar’s casual suggestion about working at a bakery had lingered with her since yesterday. She hadn’t really considered it before, but now, with a fresh batch of muffins in hand, it felt like the right time to take action. She’d send some applications today, maybe stop by a few places, and see where it led.

Even if it was just a way to get out of the apartment, maybe it would help her feel a little less alone.

After a few hours of cleaning up and putting away the last batch of muffins, Y/N sat on her couch, scrolling through her phone. She had sent a few applications and gotten a couple of quick responses asking her to come in for interviews. The thought made her feel lighter, like she was moving in the right direction. But, as she scrolled through her messages, she found herself wondering about the cookies she'd given Oscar yesterday.

What if he didn’t even like them? she thought for a second, gnawing at her lower lip. She had never done something like that for a neighbor before. It was a little… weird. But then again, they had barely talked, and she'd barely known anyone here. He probably just thought it was some random act of kindness, nothing more.

Still, she couldn't help the little spark of excitement that lingered in her chest.

With the muffins cooling on the kitchen counter, Y/N decided to go for a walk to clear her head. She tossed on her coat, scarf, and gloves—layers that were necessary with the December chill in the air—and left her apartment. The streets of Monaco were quieter now, the city settled into the crisp stillness of a cold winter evening.

As she made her way down the narrow streets, her breath puffed out in little clouds in front of her. The air was freezing, her fingers cold against her gloves, but the walk felt necessary. It was good to get out, especially with how cooped up she had been lately. The familiar feeling of solitude wrapped around her as she passed by boutique storefronts with their windows adorned for the holidays, the twinkling lights reflecting off the damp cobblestones.

She stopped at one of the cafes, the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries pulling her inside. The door closed behind her with a satisfying jingle, and the warmth hit her face immediately. She smiled, relieved to be out of the cold.

“Coffee?” the barista asked as she walked up to the counter.

Y/N nodded, pulling off her scarf. "Please. A hot cappuccino, if you’ve got it."

The barista gave her a warm smile as she prepared the drink, and soon enough, Y/N had a steaming cup in her hands. She found a small corner table by the window and sank into the chair, basking in the warmth of the café. It was a cozy little spot, the kind where time seemed to slow down.

She stared out the window as the temperature outside dropped even further, the last few people hurrying by in layers of coats and scarves. The city felt almost otherworldly, peaceful and cold, a strange mix of quiet stillness. Y/N took a sip of her cappuccino and leaned back, letting the warmth seep into her bones.

It was then that she heard the door open again, a jingle sounding through the cafe. She glanced up, her eyes scanning the new arrivals. Her gaze landed on the familiar figure—Oscar, her neighbor, walking in with his coat zipped up tight against the cold.

He spotted her right away and waved with a grin. "Hey, Y/N!" he greeted her.

Y/N smiled back, a little surprised to see him here but pleased. “Hey, Oscar. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, I just needed a quick coffee break,” he said, walking up to the counter. He ordered something quickly, then turned back toward her. “How’s your day been?”

She shrugged, feeling a little shy now that they were actually talking. “Good. Just baking and applying for some jobs,” she said, gesturing to her cup. “Needed to get out for a bit. It's freezing out there.”

Oscar nodded, his expression sympathetic. “I know what you mean. It’s cold enough to freeze your breath. I was just out getting some stuff for my place.”

The small talk felt comfortable, and Y/N found herself a little more relaxed with him standing there. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy—just a neighbor.

“Well, it’s nice to see a friendly face,” she said, smiling. “Monaco's a little lonely for me right now, to be honest.”

Oscar smiled back. “I get that. I moved here for work, and it's not always easy to adjust. You’re not alone, though. Everyone here’s pretty friendly.”

Y/N appreciated the sentiment and nodded, taking another sip of her drink. “Thanks, Oscar. It’s good to know.”

As he grabbed his coffee, Oscar gave her a wave before heading to a table by the window. Y/N returned to her thoughts, a warm feeling lingering in her chest. They hadn’t exchanged more than pleasantries, but something about the simple, easy conversation made her feel a little less isolated.

Y/N took another sip of her cappuccino, her eyes still lingering on Oscar as he settled at a table by the window. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a weirdly comfortable interaction, like one of those moments where you just feel like you clicked with someone—even if it was just casual banter about the cold.

And then, as she sat there thinking about how chill the whole thing had been, something inside her clicked.

A rush of confidence hit her like a wave. She wasn’t gonna sit here thinking about it for another second. She stood up, grabbed her cup, and made her way over to Oscar’s table like she owned the place. No hesitation. She slid into the seat in front of him without asking, crossing her arms with a mischievous grin.

“Well, well, you’re sitting so far from me. I was just telling you how lonely I was, and here you are, acting like you’re too cool to sit with me,” she said, eyebrow raised, voice teasing.

Oscar blinked in surprise for a second, clearly not expecting her to come over. But then he chuckled, clearly amused. “Wasn’t trying to be rude. Just thought I’d give you some space.”

“Oh, no space needed,” Y/N shot back, pretending to think for a second. “But if you want, I did make some banana muffins. 25 of them, actually. So, uh, you can have some later, I guess… if you’re lucky.” She leaned back, her tone playful.

Oscar’s grin spread wider, and Y/N could swear she saw his eyes light up a little at the mention of food. “Banana muffins, huh?” he said, leaning forward in his seat, the playful energy between them clear. “You’re really trying to tempt me, huh?”

Y/N smirked. “Maybe. Maybe not. I guess you’ll have to find out later.” She took another sip of her cappuccino, looking around the cozy café for a moment before her eyes landed back on him. “So, what’s your story, anyway? Besides buying coffee and sitting by windows, I mean.”

Oscar leaned back in his chair, clearly comfortable now. “Not much to tell,” he said casually. “Just trying to survive this cold. What about you, Y/N? What’s your deal?”

Y/N just shrugged, feeling more at ease with each passing second. “Oh, you know, baking muffins, trying to find a job, avoiding getting too lost in the city…” She shot him a quick look. “Honestly, though, Monaco’s a little weird, but I’m getting used to it. It’s quiet, but not the fun kind of quiet.”

Oscar nodded, his smile softening. “I get that. I felt the same when I first moved here.”

They both sat there for a few seconds, enjoying the unexpected company in a way that felt surprisingly easy for a random Tuesday afternoon.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, letting the conversation with Oscar flow naturally as they both sipped their drinks. The winter air outside had only gotten colder, but the warmth from the café made it all feel like the perfect backdrop for the two of them to talk.

“So,” Y/N began, her eyes catching his, a sudden boldness hitting her again. “Since you’re clearly not going to accept my muffin offer until later, how about we do something else next time? You know, before I leave Monaco to escape all the cold?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Escape the cold, huh? Where would you even go?”

Y/N shrugged, tapping her cup with a playful grin. “Maybe I’ll find a place that has better heating. Monaco’s nice and all, but a little more sunshine wouldn’t hurt.”

“Fair point,” Oscar chuckled. He paused for a moment, then looked at her with that signature, easygoing smile. “I could show you around sometime, if you wanted. Monaco’s got some hidden gems.”

Her heart gave a little skip at his suggestion, but she played it cool. “I’d like that. But I’m not one for getting lost in tourist traps, so it better be good.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking you to the usual spots,” he said, leaning back slightly, amused. “I promise. You’ll actually see some of the cool stuff here.”

She smiled, feeling the conversation shifting toward something a little more personal. And then, almost as if it was the next step, Y/N caught herself hesitating, but quickly brushed it off. “Well, if we’re going to plan that, we should probably exchange numbers. You know, in case I want to text you to stop you from taking me to any tourist traps.”

Oscar reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He handed it to her without a second thought.

“Good call,” he said with a teasing grin. “Here you go.”

Y/N took the phone and entered her number, her fingers flying across the screen. She handed it back to him with a smirk. “There. Now you can’t ghost me when I ask for your ‘hidden gem’ suggestions.”

Oscar laughed, saving her number with a nod. “Not planning on ghosting. I’ll make sure you get to see all the cool spots in Monaco.”

Y/N took a sip of her drink, the buzz of the conversation still lingering between them. It felt weirdly easy, and she liked that. “Alright then. It’s a date,” she said with a wink.

“Not sure if it’s a date,” he teased, “but I’ll take it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the connection between them feeling a little more real. “Fine, not a date,” she replied, “but when it happens, I’ll hold you to that promise.”

few months timeskip

Over the next few months, Y/N and Oscar settled into an unspoken rhythm. They didn’t see each other often, but when they did, it felt easy. Whether it was quick coffee breaks at the café or a casual text exchange about the best banana bread recipe, they managed to keep in touch.

Oscar, as expected, was always on the move. Y/N had asked him once what he did for work that kept him jet-setting around the world, but his response had been vague. Something about traveling for events and having a packed schedule. She didn’t push for more details, assuming it was some high-level corporate gig or freelance work that required constant relocation. Either way, she didn’t mind. They had their moments, and that was enough for now.

As for Y/N, she had settled into Monaco in a way that felt almost surreal. After a few weeks of relentless job hunting, she’d landed a position at one of the coziest bakeries in the city. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was exactly what she needed—a place to bake, to create, and to lose herself in the comforting scent of fresh bread and pastries.

Her days were now filled with kneading dough, piping frosting, and experimenting with new recipes. The bakery had its quirks, from the slightly eccentric owner who insisted on playing 80s pop music all day to her coworkers who ranged from quiet and reserved to downright chaotic. Somehow, it all worked. Y/N found herself laughing more, learning more, and slowly but surely, calling Monaco home.

Outside of work, Y/N was finally starting to build a life for herself. Some of her coworkers had become fast friends, dragging her out of the kitchen and into the buzzing nightlife Monaco had to offer. From late-night drinks at chic rooftop bars to dancing under neon lights at clubs tucked away in narrow streets, Y/N found herself embracing a side of life she hadn’t tapped into before.

It was one of those rare free days where Y/N could relax and enjoy the slowly warming Monaco weather. The gentle breeze carried in through the slightly cracked window, and the temperature hovered at a perfect 65 degrees—just cool enough to make the indoors cozy but warm enough to remind her that summer was around the corner.

Her kitchen counter was a controlled chaos of melted chocolate, parchment paper, and a vibrant pile of freshly washed strawberries. She’d decided on a whim to make chocolate-covered strawberries—a light, summery treat that felt perfect for the day. At first, it had been fun, methodically dipping each strawberry into the glossy chocolate and adding a drizzle of white chocolate for flair. But somewhere along the way, she’d gotten carried away.

When she stepped back and looked at her work, she let out a soft laugh. “This is... way too many strawberries,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. She grabbed one and took a bite, the sweetness of the strawberry perfectly balancing the richness of the chocolate.

As she finished the last one, her gaze fell on a smaller bowl she’d unconsciously filled. Without thinking, she began packing it up to bring to Oscar. It had become second nature by now—whenever she baked, she always set some aside for him. But as she made her way to the door, bowl in hand, she paused.

Her mind caught up to her actions, and she froze, staring at the door. “Wait... he’s not even home,” she muttered, groaning softly. Of course, she knew Oscar was traveling. He always was. So why had she automatically prepared something for him like he’d just be next door?

She stared at the bowl, her cheeks burning as the realization hit her. “Oh my god, I miss him,” she whispered to herself, the words making her cringe as they left her lips. She set the bowl down on the counter and groaned louder, pressing her hands against her flushed cheeks.

The thought swirled in her head, undeniable now that it had surfaced. She liked him—more than as just her friendly, quiet neighbor. She liked him in a way that made her heart race and her brain short-circuit.

She groaned again and began pacing the room. “No, no, nope. I am not catching feelings for a guy I barely know,” she muttered. But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. They’d been building something—small moments of connection over the past few months that had left her looking forward to every knock on the door or text message.

With a huff, she grabbed her phone and typed out a quick text:

y/n : when are you coming home??

She hit send before she could overthink it, tossing the phone onto her couch and flopping down beside it. The May breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of spring flowers, but Y/N couldn’t shake the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “This is going to be... complicated,” she muttered to herself, covering her face with her hands.

Y/N’s phone dinged, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. She sat up quickly, snatching the device from where it had landed on the couch. Her heart did a little flip as she saw Oscar’s name pop up on the screen. She unlocked it to read his response:

oscar : I’ll be back in like 2 weeks but only for a bit—what’s up? 👀

She stared at the message, a small smile tugging at her lips. Of course, he’d throw in the eyeball emoji—it was such an Oscar thing to do, always mixing casual with a bit of humor.

For a moment, she debated how to respond. She couldn’t just say, Oh, nothing, I just made too many chocolate-covered strawberries and realized I might like you—that would be mortifying. Instead, she opted for something neutral, a safe middle ground:

y/n : Oh, no reason. Just wondering! Hope it’s not too hectic for you.

As soon as she hit send, she groaned softly, leaning back against the couch. That was a lie, but what else could she say? She put her phone down and rubbed her temples, trying to ignore the sudden burst of warmth in her chest. Two weeks wasn’t that long, right?

Still, the thought lingered in her mind: she’d never been this excited for someone to come home before.

two week timeskip

Two weeks had passed in a blur, the days slipping by faster than Y/N anticipated. The Italian Grand Prix had wrapped up over the weekend, and Monaco was buzzing with excitement for the upcoming race. The city had been transforming in preparation—barricades going up, streets morphing into a circuit, and the harbor becoming a sea of luxury yachts.

Y/N hadn’t seen or heard much from Oscar since his text, but she’d been counting down the days. He’d said he’d be home this week, and while she wasn’t exactly waiting by her door, she had taken it upon herself to have some baked goodies ready. Just in case.

A tray of brownies sat cooling on her counter alongside a tin of lemon cookies, and she was busy wiping down her kitchen counters when a knock echoed through her apartment.

Her first instinct was casual curiosity—probably her neighbor asking to borrow something or the package delivery guy. Without overthinking, she grabbed a towel to dry her hands and headed to the door, opening it mid-yawn.

And there he was.

Oscar stood on the other side, casual as ever in a hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly messy, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His expression was warm, a soft smile playing on his lips as he raised a hand in greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his voice calm, like it hadn’t been two weeks since they last spoke.

Y/N blinked, gripping the door frame for a second. She’d spent days prepping treats for his arrival, imagining this exact moment, and now her brain decided to freeze. “You’re here?” she blurted, as though he wasn’t standing directly in front of her.

His smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Yeah, I figured I’d drop in unannounced. Hope that’s cool.”

She shook off her surprise, stepping aside to let him in. “Uh, yeah, obviously. Come in!”

Oscar stepped inside, glancing around her apartment like he always did, his eyes eventually landing on the counter full of baked goods. He raised an eyebrow and gestured toward it. “You bake for me, or is this just, like, an everyday thing?”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as she quickly shut the door. “I mean... maybe a little of both?” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I wasn’t sure when you’d show up, so I figured better safe than sorry.”

He laughed, dropping his bag by the couch. “You’re unbelievable. You know that, right?”

“Is that a thank-you?” she teased, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Oscar plucked a cookie off the tray, taking a bite and humming dramatically. “That’s me saying you’re way too nice to me. This is amazing, by the way.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips anyway. Seeing him standing there, relaxed and happy, filled her with a warmth she didn’t quite know what to do with.

Oscar finished the cookie and grabbed another without asking, leaning casually against her counter like he belonged there. “So, what’ve you been up to? Still baking up a storm every day?”

Y/N smirked, grabbing the tray of brownies and cutting them into perfect squares. “Pretty much. Got to keep the bakery stocked and the bills paid somehow. Plus, it’s Monaco—people are weirdly obsessed with pastries here. Speaking of, how was Italy? Or wherever you were this time?”

Oscar hesitated, his chewing slowing down. “Uh, yeah. Italy was... busy. Lots of... work.”

She raised an eyebrow, catching the slight awkwardness in his tone. “Work? You’re always traveling for this mystery job of yours. You must be a spy or something.”

His laugh came a little too quickly, and he avoided her gaze by grabbing a brownie. “Yeah, something like that. I’d tell you, but then I’d have to... you know.” He made a mock gun gesture with his fingers, winking playfully.

Y/N snorted. “Very convincing. Totally not suspicious at all.”

Changing the subject, Oscar gestured toward the goodies she’d prepared. “You’re going to spoil me, you know that? Showing up with treats, stocking your place with more of them... You’re setting a dangerous precedent.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Y/N teased, nudging him gently as she carried the brownies to a tin for storage. “I only bake extra when I’m bored.”

“Or when you miss me,” he added, grinning mischievously.

Her hands froze for a split second, her cheeks heating up as she quickly turned back to the brownies. “In your dreams,” she muttered, but the way her voice wavered slightly made him chuckle.

Oscar didn’t press further, instead grabbing a glass of water and perching on the armrest of her couch. “So, the monaco grand prix coming up,” he said casually.

“Yeah, the whole city’s already turning into one big construction zone,” Y/N replied, plopping down onto the couch next to him. “Feels like everyone’s losing their minds over it. What’s the big deal? Is it, like, a festival or something?”

Oscar blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before quickly recovering. “Uh, yeah, kind of. It’s... a big event. Happens every year.”

She nodded, leaning back into the cushions. “Well, hopefully, it’s not too crazy. Are you staying for it?”

“Yeah, I’ll be around,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “At least for a bit. But it gets hectic, so I might disappear again.”

“Classic Oscar,” Y/N said with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Hey, I’m here now, aren’t I?” he countered, nudging her with his elbow.

“You are,” she admitted, glancing over at him. Their eyes met briefly, and for a second, the air between them felt heavier, like something unspoken lingered just beneath the surface.

Before she could dwell on it, she cleared her throat and stood up. “Anyway, brownies are cooling, cookies are packed, and now you have snacks for however long you’re staying.”

Oscar smirked, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “And here I thought you just liked having me around.”

Y/N grabbed a pillow from the couch and lightly tossed it at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

He caught the pillow effortlessly, laughing. “Fine, fine. But seriously, thanks. It’s nice being back. Even if it’s just for a bit.”

Her smile softened, and she nodded. “Yeah. yeah.”

The evening carried on in easy conversation, the kind of flow Y/N had come to enjoy when Oscar was around. He had a way of making the hours slip by without her even realizing it.

At some point, she found herself sitting cross-legged on the floor while Oscar took up most of the couch, recounting a chaotic story about a “work trip” that involved a delayed flight, a misplaced bag, and someone accidentally ordering 40 sandwiches. He was animated as he spoke, using hand gestures and exaggerated expressions to emphasize every twist and turn.

“So, there I was,” Oscar said, his voice growing serious, “stuck with 40 ham and cheese sandwiches at 3 a.m., wondering if this was some kind of cosmic punishment.”

Y/N burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as tears formed in her eyes. “You’re kidding. Please tell me you ate at least one.”

“Of course, I did,” he replied, grinning. “I ate five. And then I passed out on a bench because there was nowhere else to sit. Absolute rock bottom.”

Y/N shook her head, still laughing. “You live such a weird life. Sandwich catastrophes at 3 a.m. while traveling the world for your super-secret job? Must be exhausting.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s a lot sometimes. But I guess I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

There was something in his tone, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that made her pause. She wanted to ask more, to dig deeper, but she hesitated. She didn’t want to ruin the lighthearted mood.

Instead, she grinned and teased, “Well, if you ever need someone to help you through another sandwich crisis, you know where to find me.”

Oscar laughed, tossing a couch cushion at her. “Noted. You’re officially on my emergency sandwich team.”

The sound of their laughter filled the room, and for a while, everything felt easy and uncomplicated.

A little later, after the plates were cleared and the leftovers tucked away, Oscar stood by the door, his duffel bag back in hand.

“Thanks for letting me crash your evening,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Crash? Please, I basically invited you the second I opened the door,” Y/N replied, smirking.

He smiled, lingering for a moment. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, leaning against the doorframe opposite him. “Don’t forget to grab some of the cookies on your way out. And the brownies.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to fatten me up or something?”

“Maybe,” she teased. “It’s part of my evil plan.”

He chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair before stepping into the hallway. “See you soon, Y/N.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N stood there for a moment, her heart fluttering in a way she wasn’t quite ready to admit.

The week passed quickly, the anticipation of the Monaco Grand Prix hanging in the air. The city was buzzing with energy, but Y/N kept herself busy at work, focusing on perfecting her recipes and keeping her mind off the person who had quickly become a constant presence in her thoughts.

But no matter how busy she kept, she couldn’t help but wonder when she’d see him again—and if things between them would ever shift into something more.

As the Monaco Grand Prix loomed closer, Y/N found herself noticing the increased buzz around the city. Banners and posters for the event were plastered on every available surface, and crowds started trickling in. Y/N had no idea what all the fuss was about, aside from the fact that everyone seemed excited.

Oscar had been texting her throughout the week, and she’d been looking forward to catching up with him again. She was in the middle of prepping a new batch of pastries when she heard a familiar knock on her door.

“Hey,” she greeted, opening the door to find Oscar standing there, looking casual in a tee and shorts, clearly just back from a training session.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, stepping inside. “How’s it going?”

“Busy as always,” Y/N said, wiping her hands on a towel. “But I’m managing. The bakery’s been crazy with all the tourists. You’d think I was selling gold instead of cookies.”

Oscar chuckled. “Yeah, Monaco gets a little nuts this time of year.” He glanced around, then looked back at her with a grin. “You know, with the Grand Prix coming up, I was thinking—you should totally come with me this weekend. I’ll be around, and I could use some company. I’m pretty sure you’ve never seen anything like it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued but not sure what he meant. “The Grand Prix? What is that, like, a huge concert or something?”

Oscar blinked, surprised by her response but quickly recovering. “Uh, no, not really. It’s... um, a big race.”

“A race?” Y/N echoed. “Like cars?”

“Yeah, like super-fast cars,” Oscar explained, trying not to laugh. “Formula 1 cars. It’s kind of a big deal around here.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, so this race is happening in the city?”

“Yep,” he said, nodding. “And it’s one of the biggest races of the season. You should come check it out. It’s a whole experience.”

She hesitated for a moment, trying to process the idea. “I mean, sure, why not? I could use a little break from the bakery chaos. But I’m warning you, I’ll probably get lost in the crowd or something.”

Oscar grinned, clearly pleased. “I’ve got you covered. You won’t get lost, I promise. Plus, I’ll introduce you to a few people, show you the ropes. It’ll be fun.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little bit nervous but mostly excited. “Okay, okay. I’m in. This better be worth it though. I still don’t quite get why people are so obsessed with fast cars but... I’m trusting you on this one.”

Oscar laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it once you see it. It’s kind of... a big deal.”

Y/N chuckled along with him. “Alright, Mr. Big Deal. I’ll be there. Just try not to get too race car driver on me while I’m there, okay?”

Oscar flashed her a teasing grin. “No promises.”

grand prix weekend

As Y/N walked toward the spot where she and Oscar had agreed to meet, her eyes wandered over the bustling atmosphere of the Monaco Grand Prix. The crowds, the cameras, the fancy cars, and the buzz of excitement around every corner... it was a lot to take in. But then her gaze landed on something that made her stop in her tracks.

A massive banner stretched across the track, featuring none other than Oscar Piastri. His face was larger than life, his cool expression and trademark cap making him look effortlessly slick.

Y/N blinked twice, then rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. But there it was, Oscar in full glory, with the words "Oscar Piastri: Formula 1 Driver" plastered across the banner in bold letters. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt her stomach drop.

She stared at it, mouth slightly open, her brain short-circuiting as the pieces finally clicked together. “Wait… Oscar? Formula 1? That Oscar?” She repeated the words in her head like a mantra, trying to wrap her brain around it.

Her eyes darted from the banner to the people around her, and suddenly everything clicked in a dizzying rush:

Oscar Piastri... was a famous Formula 1 driver.

That meant—wait, no—that meant she had been casually baking cookies, banana muffins, and chocolate-covered strawberries for someone who was literally famous?! She had been living next door to a real-life celebrity and hadn’t even known it?? And… she was actually crushing on him?

Her mind was doing a full-on loop-de-loop. How had she missed this? How did she not realize that this guy who always wore cool clothes, who was constantly traveling, who had fans… was the same person she’d been baking for like it was no big deal? Was this… was this a dream?

She started internally panicking. What do I do now? She had been baking for a guy who was in the public eye—what did that even mean for them? Did she just like someone who everyone else liked too? Is that even a thing? Was she seriously living next door to someone who raced for real in Formula 1?! She was losing it.

At that moment, she felt like she might spontaneously combust from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Her stomach flipped, and she had to press a hand to her forehead, trying to keep it together. “Oh my god, Y/N. Get it together,” she whispered under her breath.

Just as she was trying to regain her composure, she spotted Oscar coming into view, looking effortlessly cool as usual, his sunglasses perched atop his head as he walked toward her. His face broke into a grin when he saw her.

“Hey, you okay?” Oscar asked, noticing the slightly shell-shocked look on her face. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Y/N blinked a few times, forcing herself to smile, but her mind was still reeling. She barely managed to get out a normal response. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little too high-pitched for her own liking. “Just… uh, just saw something… interesting.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, looking at her with mild curiosity. “Interesting? What did you see?”

Y/N panicked for a second. She couldn’t tell him she just discovered he was basically famous and was now spiraling over it, right? She gave herself a quick mental shake. “Uh, yeah, just, uh, a banner,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the giant image of him from earlier. “And, um… I just realized that… I, uh, live next to someone famous. Which is, like… wild.”

Oscar blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “Ohhh, yeah, that’s a thing. I mean, you’ve been living next to a race car driver. That’s gotta be weird, huh?”

Weird didn’t even begin to cover it, but Y/N just laughed, even though it sounded a little forced. “I guess? It’s just... a lot to process. You really are famous, huh?”

Oscar chuckled at her expression, clearly amused. “You could’ve asked, you know. But yeah, I guess I am,” he said casually, as if being on giant banners was just part of his daily routine.

Y/N groaned, feeling a rush of heat on her cheeks. “I feel like such an idiot,” she muttered, half to herself.

Oscar laughed, clearly oblivious to the full extent of her internal freakout. “Nah, you’re good. I’m just glad you’re here. Let’s enjoy this whole thing together.”

But Y/N could barely focus on anything except the fact that she had been baking for someone famous. This was too much.

As they continued toward the track, Y/N’s thoughts swirled in a thousand directions. She liked him, but now she had to figure out how to deal with the fact that she liked someone who was literally in the spotlight. Was it even okay to have a crush on someone who had so many eyes on him? She didn’t even know what to do with that knowledge yet.

And as they entered the paddock, Y/N had a feeling this weekend was going to be a lot more intense than she ever expected.

Y/N had barely been able to wrap her head around the fact that she was actually sitting in the heart of the action—inside Oscar’s team’s box in the garage, watching the practice and qualifying sessions unfold in front of her eyes.

Oscar had been in and out, prepping for his runs, chatting with the team, and making sure everything was in top condition. He had that natural, focused energy about him, and it was hard to look at him without being amazed by how effortlessly cool he was under pressure.

Y/N, on the other hand, was absolutely blown away by everything. The speed of the cars, the noise, the sheer intensity of it all—it was like nothing she had ever experienced. The walls of the garage were lined with equipment, the hum of activity filled the air, and people were buzzing about with headsets and clipboards, all focused on their roles. But even with all the chaos, Y/N's attention kept drifting back to Oscar.

“Don’t worry, I won’t crash,” he joked, noticing the look on her face as he grabbed his helmet and prepared to head out.

Y/N managed a nervous laugh, trying to calm the fluttering feeling in her chest. “You better not,” she teased, though she was pretty sure it was more for her own peace of mind than anything else.

Oscar shot her a grin before heading out to the car, and Y/N couldn’t help but watch with wide eyes as he slipped into the cockpit. The cars revved to life, the unmistakable sound of the engines vibrating through the garage. Oscar’s car was a blur as he took off down the track for his first practice lap.

She couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of awe and pride. That’s Oscar, she thought, barely able to keep her jaw from dropping. He was out there on the track, racing like it was second nature. The guy who had been chilling in her kitchen, eating cookies, was now doing something so epic, it didn’t even seem real.

As Oscar tore through the circuit, Y/N’s eyes stayed glued to the monitors in the box. His lap times popped up in front of her, and she felt a nervous, excited energy pulse through her. She didn’t know much about Formula 1, but she could feel the intensity of it all.

“Look at him go,” she muttered to herself, completely captivated by the raw speed and precision. It was like watching someone glide on air—only way faster, and way more intense.

The minutes flew by, and soon enough, Oscar’s car zipped back into the pits, and he jumped out, helmet off, a grin on his face. Y/N couldn’t help but smile back, her heart racing in sync with the adrenaline of the day.

“You’re amazing,” she said as he walked over, still catching his breath from the run.

Oscar gave a modest shrug, though the grin never left his face. “It’s all in the details,” he said with a wink. “But, yeah, it feels pretty good.”

Y/N shook her head, still processing how cool the whole thing was. “You’re insane,” she laughed, feeling a mix of admiration and a bit of disbelief at the whole experience.

Oscar leaned against the garage wall, looking at her. “You’ve got the best seat in the house, you know?”

She smiled, feeling her chest tighten at the compliment. “Yeah, I can’t believe I’m actually here. It’s… it’s all a bit much, honestly.”

Oscar chuckled. “Well, get used to it. You’ll be seeing a lot more of this.”

Y/N just nodded, still wide-eyed. There was so much she was still processing—how she’d gone from living next to a normal guy to sitting in a garage at the Monaco Grand Prix watching him race. It was wild. And somehow, incredibly thrilling.

Then, without any warning, Oscar took a small step closer to her. The next thing Y/N knew, his hand was on her cheek, pulling her into a kiss that was both unexpected and electric.

She froze for a split second, her eyes wide in shock. Her heart pounded in her ears. It was quick, but it was enough to send a wave of dizziness through her. The kiss was soft, lingering just a moment longer than she could’ve imagined, before Oscar pulled back with a mischievous smile.

Y/N stood there, stunned. Her heart was racing, and her mind was reeling. The cameras around the garage had caught the whole thing, and within seconds, a replay flashed across the monitors, broadcasting the moment live for all to see.

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly aware of the reaction. “Guess I’m full of surprises,” he teased, his voice low, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/N blinked, still processing what just happened. Her cheeks were burning. “What the—”

But before Y/N could say anything else, Oscar's grin grew wider as he looked up at the screen. "Well, that's gonna be on TV now, huh?"

Y/N's eyes snapped to the monitors, and her stomach dropped. The kiss, clear as day, was playing across the screens for everyone to see. Her face turned beet red.

"Seriously?" Y/N muttered, still trying to process it. "That just... happened. On TV. Wow."

Oscar chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Well, that’s out there now. You good with that?”

Before Y/N could answer, she leaned in, surprising him with a kiss. It was quick but full of impulse, a way to make things feel less chaotic and more... real. When she pulled away, she didn’t flinch or apologize—she just gave him a small grin.

Oscar blinked in surprise for a moment, his lips curling into a grin. “Guess you weren’t planning on waiting, huh?”

Y/N shrugged casually, unfazed. “Guess not.”

Oscar let out a low laugh, his eyes never leaving hers. “No going back now.”

Y/N shook her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Guess not."

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

taglist : @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey @alex-wotton @ssarqhxo @rainy-darling @mymilkshakefun @hs2016 @linnygirl09 @akulici

[miakat9]

familiar stranger. // ln4

pairing | lando norris x fem!reader

genre | fluff, lots of angst, situationship au, suggestive !! (but no real smut scenes), hurt-comfort

word count | 9.7k

warnings | no use of y/n, suggestive in some moments, hot making-out scene, no description of smut scene, body shaming, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, crying, cursing, heartbreak, pet names (angel), lots of tension, pinning.

inspired by: kenya grace — strangers, chappel roan — casual

summary: once, they were caught in a messy situationship—passion without promises, love without labels—until life turned them into strangers. when their paths cross again, old sparks reignite, and buried emotions rush back. but it isn't as perfect as one can imagine.

a/n: hii how are youuuuu <3 hope you're all doing alright :) dropping off this real quick before getting back to finishing one long work for you guys hehe~

The wedding was full of people, sparkling dresses, clinking glasses, and soft laughter. But even in the sea of guests, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider here. 

This was supposed to be a celebration. A chance to enjoy the happy moments of other people’s lives. But there you were, half-heartedly smiling and nodding through conversations, just going through the motions, your mind not quite here. Your fingers absently traced the engagement ring on your finger as your eyes scanned the room.

Eric, your fiancé, had insisted you come, mostly to help him fill out the social circles and be his shoulder candy, but your heart wasn’t in it. The familiar comfort of your daily routine felt like a faraway dream as the buzz of the wedding slowly settled into a heavy weight on your chest. 

You hadn’t wanted to attend it, but you’d gone anyway, playing the part of the dutiful fiancée. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were running from something. Or maybe, someone.

You stepped outside for a moment of fresh air, hoping to clear your head. The cool night air wrapped around you like a quiet blanket, and you leaned against the stone wall, taking a deep breath, trying to steady the storm inside. 

For a moment, the quiet felt good. But then, you heard it—the familiar laughter, playful and carefree. It wrapped around you like a warm, but painful memory. You didn’t need to look to know whom it belonged to, but you did anyway.

Lando. He stood there, leaning casually against a pillar, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips. The curls that you once loved to run your fingers through now framed his face like they were meant to be there, a bit longer than they used to be. His jaw was sharper, more defined, the boyish softness you remembered now replaced with the quiet intensity of a man who had seen more of the world, who had grown into himself. 

But his eyes—those beautiful aquamarine eyes—were the same. And in that moment, it felt like nothing had changed. It felt like no time had passed at all like you were back to being that girl who had laughed with him, who had shared late-night kisses in his car, whose heart had once been his. And for a moment, you wondered if he could still feel the pull of the past like you did. 

You stood frozen, just staring at him, trying to process what was happening. You hadn’t prepared for this. You didn’t even know if you wanted to see him, but there he was—Lando, in the flesh, as if he’d never left. 

The moment stretched out, as though the world around you had stilled, your heartbeat louder than any sound in the room. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his gaze met yours. 

His lips parted in recognition, the faintest flicker of surprise in his expression, followed by something darker, something deeper. There was a hint of disbelief in his eyes as he excused himself from the group he was talking to, and took a step toward you. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if unsure if he should approach if the moment was real.

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. The words were tangled in your chest, caught between a thousand emotions—anger, longing, regret. 

“Lando…” You said, your voice quiet, a little hoarse, as if saying his name alone carried more weight than you could bear.

His smile was hesitant at first, but it quickly softened, and there it was—that familiar tenderness, that same boyish warmth that had once made you feel like the only person in the world. 

“Hey,” He said softly, his voice a quiet murmur that made your pulse quicken. “It’s really good to see you.” His gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat too long, and you felt yourself drowning in that look, in everything that had been and could never be again.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold your composure, but it was hard—so hard. “It’s been a while.” You managed, your words coming out shakier than you’d intended.

“Yeah,” He said, his voice low, almost regretful, “A while.”

The air between you was thick, charged with years of unspoken things. The questions you never asked, the things you never got the chance to say. The tension hung there, like a fragile thread ready to snap, and neither of you seemed ready to pull on it.

And then, as if the universe were reminding you of the life you’d built since then, you heard the soft call of Eric’s voice. “Darling?”

You turned your head, your heart dropping just a little as you saw him—your fiancé, his hand reaching for your waist, pulling you toward him effortlessly. His touch was steady, but in that moment, it felt like a stark contrast to the warmth Lando had once given you. You pulled yourself together, even though every part of you wanted to stay in that moment forever.

Eric’s arm slipped around your waist. “Everything okay out here?” He asked, his voice light like the situation was nothing more than a casual break from the festivities.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just needed some air.” You turned back toward Lando, not sure how to handle the sudden intrusion of your present with the ghost of your past standing in front of you.

Lando’s gaze shifted toward Eric, his expression hardening for a brief moment before he composed himself, offering a polite but distant smile. You could tell it wasn’t easy for him, even though he tried to hide it. His eyes never quite left you, though.

Eric glanced at Lando, clearly sizing him up. “This is Eric, my fiancé.” You said softly, biting the inner of your cheek nervously. Eric extended a hand, still with that easygoing grin. “Nice to meet you, man.”

Lando hesitated for a fraction of a second, then took Eric’s hand, his grip firm but distant, his eyes flicking to you before quickly returning to Eric. “Likewise.” He said, his voice neutral, yet you could feel the undertones beneath it. It wasn’t nice for him to meet Eric.

An uncomfortable silence stretched for a beat before you felt the weight of the moment. You cleared your throat, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. You hadn’t thought about what to say next, but the words that came out felt strange, a little too forced.

“This is Lando,” You began, your voice faltering slightly as you introduced him. “An old... friend.”

The words tasted foreign like they didn’t belong in your mouth. Old friend. It felt like a betrayal, a lie as if you were reducing everything that had once been between you—so real and vivid to nothing more than a passing acquaintance.

Lando’s stomach twisted at the nickname, a small flicker of something dark crossing his face. An old friend. It stung more than he expected, cutting deeper than he cared to admit. You had made him a stranger in your life. A ghost. And now, standing there, he realized how much he regretted letting that happen. His jaw tightened, but he forced a smile, nodding at the label you had assigned him.

“Yeah,” Lando replied quietly, looking down for just a second, a small breath escaping him. “Old friend.”

There was something in the way he said it—soft, almost too soft—that made your heart ache. It was like hearing the echo of something that used to matter, something that had once been everything to both of you, now reduced to a polite formality.

Eric didn’t seem to notice the undercurrent of discomfort. He laughed lightly, giving Lando a friendly clap on the back. “It’s good to meet you, Lando. Big fan of yours.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.” Lando sent him a weak smile, trying to be polite but knowing him well, you immediately noticed that it didn’t reach his eyes. 

You could see the tension in Lando’s shoulders, the subtle way his eyes flickered back toward you—like he wanted to say something, anything, to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled between the three of you. But instead, he took a small step back.

“Uh… yeah— You know, I think I should probably head back inside,” Lando said, his voice strained, though he tried to mask it with casualness. “Good to see you again.”

You nodded, but it felt like your whole body was screaming for him to stay, for him to not disappear, again. 

“I’ll see you around.” You said, but your voice didn’t quite match the words.

Lando gave a small smile, though his eyes were distant. “Take care.” He said softly before turning to walk away. 

His movements were slow, as though each step toward the door was one he didn’t want to take. But he did it anyway, vanishing into the crowd with that same quiet intensity that had always surrounded him.

You stood there, rooted in place, as Eric wrapped his arm around you, leading you back into the reception. The words felt hollow in your ears. You could feel Lando’s absence once again, like a physical ache. You wanted to look back, but you didn’t. 

You didn’t want to watch him walk away for the second time in your life.

The weight of it all—the years, the distance, the things both of you hadn’t said, the way he’d slipped from your grasp—hung heavy between your ribs. And when you glanced down at the engagement ring on your finger, it suddenly felt colder and heavier than it ever had before.

And in that moment, you realized that maybe you were still waiting for him to come back and say it wasn’t over. That you two weren’t complete strangers, after all.

────୨ৎ────

The soft buzz of conversation and laughter filtered through the ballroom doors, the music pulsing in the background, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back in. The cool night air was a balm to your racing nerves, but you still felt the weight of everything that had happened earlier. Everything that had been said without being said.

You stepped out onto the balcony, the chill of the evening air brushing against your skin as you leaned on the stone railing, gazing out at the dimly lit garden below. 

Your thoughts were a tangled mess, but there was one memory that stood out more than the others, one that seemed to pull you in with magnetic force. 

The night when everything had shifted. 

The office lights flickered faintly in the early evening haze, a reflection of the weariness that clung to your every step. The hum of your boss’s voice, sharp and unrelenting, still echoed in your mind as you descended the stairs, your bag heavy on your shoulder. Outside, the cool air was a slight reprieve, but it did little to lighten the weight you felt. 

Then, you saw it—his car, sleek and familiar, waiting at the curb, just as always.

Lando stood leaning against the driver's door, one hand casually in his pocket, the other scrolling through his phone. The sight of him alone was a breath of fresh air. He had his cap put backwards as he had it in his liking.

When he noticed you, his expression softened into a smile—a warm, genuine gesture that made the corners of your frustration ease ever so slightly.

You approached, trying to push aside the tension of the day. “Hi Lan.” You greeted, giving him a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Hi Angel, I missed you.” Lando replied, his voice low and calm, as if his only goal was to soothe you. Then he opened the door for you, and helped you get into the passenger's seat. In a second, he was already sitting in the car next to you, fastening his seatbelt. 

Then he looked at you and tilted his head, studying you. “Rough day?” Lando asked, glancing at you as he started the car. His voice was soft, unhurried, but there was a note of concern in it.

“More like a nightmare,” You muttered, rubbing your temples. “My boss was insufferable. I’m starting to think she gets a bonus every time she ruins someone’s day.”

Lando chuckled, but his eyes flicked toward you briefly, his brows knitting together as he took in your slumped posture. “Should I have a word with her?” He teased, but the warmth in his tone and the second meaning of his offer softened the edge.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t think you’re her type.” You replied, meeting his eyes.

“Her loss.” He shrugged, his voice light, and you couldn’t help but laugh out and shake your head. But his gaze lingered on you a moment longer as he drove to your apartment. 

When he parked by your building, it was already late, the moon shining brightly in the sky. Lando looked at you for a second, and then he reached over to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was impossibly soft, his fingers lingering against your cheek for just a beat too long. 

That was when it started—when the space between you seemed to shrink.

You could feel your heart pounding, the air between you charged with something unspoken. And when you looked at him, you didn’t mean to lean closer, but before you could second-guess yourself, his lips were already on yours.

The kiss was soft at first—gentle, tentative, as if testing the waters. But then something broke loose between you, a flood of suppressed longing that had been building for far too long. His hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his lips moved against yours, deeper now, hungrier.

The world outside the car ceased to exist. There were no cars passing, no city sounds—just the heat between you both, the soft sounds of your breaths mingling. 

His kiss was intoxicating, his lips moving with a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. You let out a small, involuntary whimper, and he groaned in response, the sound low and guttural. 

“Come here, Angel.” He murmured against your lips, his voice husky and low. 

His hands were on your waist now, guiding you as you shifted, moving closer to him. Before you knew it, you were straddling his lap, your knees pressing into the leather seat as your arms wrapped around his neck. The new position brought a fresh wave of intensity, the closeness making every touch, every kiss, more electrifying.

His hands roamed your body, his touch firm yet reverent, as if he was memorizing every curve of your body. His fingers slipped beneath your shirt, brushing against your hot, bare skin, and the sensation sent a jolt of heat through you. His lips left yours to trail wet kisses along your jawline, then down to your neck. Each kiss was deliberate, slow, and full of intention, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“Lan…” You breathed, your voice barely audible, but the way his name left your lips made his grip on you tighten.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” He murmured against your skin, his breath warm and ragged. His lips hovered near your collarbone, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on your hips. “Or do you want me to continue, Angel?”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his. There was vulnerability there, a question lingering in the depths of his aquamarine eyes. You didn’t answer with words; instead, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him with everything you had into that one moment. 

That was all the confirmation he needed. His hands slid lower, gripping your ass as he shifted, adjusting the angle so he could kiss you even deeper. 

The hunger between you grew, the kiss turning into a frantic clash of lips and teeth and tongues. His hands explored your body, and you reveled in the way he touched you, the way he made you feel seen, desired, cherished.

The cramped space of the car only heightened the intensity, the intimacy of it all. When his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pushing it up slowly, you shivered at the sensation of his fingers on your bare skin. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of hesitation. But you didn’t stop him. You wanted this—you wanted him.

His lips returned to yours, and the kiss turned heated, passionate, as if the world were about to end and this was the only moment that mattered. 

His hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of you, and you responded in kind, your fingers slipping under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. 

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.” He muttered against your lips, his voice rough with need.

“Then show me, Lan.” You whispered, your fingers threading through his curls. 

He groaned again, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he ground you against him, the friction sending sparks shooting through your veins. “Fucking hell, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before sucking lightly, just enough to leave a mark. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, your head falling back as a soft moan escaped you. Your nails dug into his shoulders as his hands slid beneath your skirt, his touch scorching against the bare skin of your thighs. 

“You’re perfect,” He murmured, his lips trailing down your collarbone. “So fucking perfect.”

You were trembling now, the tension building with every touch, every whispered word. When his fingers dipped lower, you gasped. Uncontrollably, your head fell against his shoulder as the sensations overwhelmed you. 

“Lan, please.” You whimpered, your voice desperate now and he didn’t make you wait. 

His fingers worked their magic, and you felt yourself unraveling, your body arching against him as waves of pleasure washed over you. He watched you the whole time, his eyes dark and hooded, his lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

The air in the car grew thick, the windows fogging up as the two of you moved together, the heat building until it was almost unbearable. You lost track of time, of place, of everything except him—his touch, his breath, the way he made you feel. 

Finally, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you, and the world outside the car felt like a distant memory. The rain had started to fall, pattering softly against the windows, but inside, everything was warm and electric. 

As you still sat together in the front seat—your head resting in the crook of his neck with his hands drawing small, soothing circles on your back—you felt a strange sense of calm wash over you. The rhythmic sound of his breathing was a strange comfort, grounding you in a moment that felt entirely surreal. The silence wasn’t awkward; it was filled with the weight of what had just transpired. 

For the first time in a long time, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

But as the stillness settled, reality began to creep back in. The bubble you had created in that car couldn’t last forever. 

When morning came, everything was different. Lando had to leave for another Grand Prix weekend, and you kissed him goodbye with the promise of staying in touch like you always did. But then the texts from him stopped coming. Days passed without a word. The silence between you stretched further until it became a canyon between you both.

You waited for him to call, to text, to say something, anything. But the silence remained.

A few days later, the pictures surfaced—him with another woman, smiling as she was clinging to him, kissing his neck. Your heart shattered, being left with nothing else than the feeling of unfairness, confusion, but also pain and frustration. 

When you decided to reach out, trying to make sense of everything, his reply came too late—cold and distant, almost as if he had never cared. It was then that you realized: he was gone. Just like that. Lando had slipped away like a shadow, leaving behind only the ache of unspoken words, the regret of never having said what you truly felt. 

You hadn’t realized how much you’d let yourself hope, how much you’d wanted him to be different. 

Blocking his number felt like cutting off a limb, but it was the only way to protect yourself. Even now, as the memory played in your mind like a film on repeat, you couldn’t shake the ache that lingered. The way you had been reduced to nothing more than a forgotten memory, just another girl in the blur of his life.

Now, sitting on that balcony at the wedding, the memory hit you with full force, each detail as vivid as the day it happened. You closed your eyes for a moment, the sounds of the wedding celebration muffling in the distance. 

The cool air felt too warm now like it was holding all the memories you couldn’t shake. The warmth of his touch, the depth of his kisses, the weight of his body against yours. And the pain of losing him—of watching him walk away like you meant nothing. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stay hidden. But it was useless. Lando had been more than a fling, and it was nothing new. He had been a part of you, and that part was still aching.

After taking a deep breath and fixing your hair, you decided to go back into the ballroom, putting the mask of indifference back on your face. After all, it was just a party with your fiancé and lots of strangers. And one, familiar stranger.

────୨ৎ────

Lando stood by the wall, watching you from across the ballroom, your laughter cutting through the noise. It was like the space between the two of you had become something physical, something he could touch—a barrier he couldn’t cross no matter how badly he wanted to. His hands clenched at his sides as he tried to compose himself, to make sense of everything that was swirling inside him.

The weight of the moment crushed him from all angles. Seeing you with Eric, with that easy smile and the way his hand rested on your waist, it felt like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t jealous. Not exactly. He just… he couldn’t help but think of what he’d thrown away, what he could’ve had. What he should’ve had.

Lando’s eyes traced the engagement ring on your finger, gleaming in the light. A symbol of a future you had built—one that didn’t involve him, not anymore. His stomach twisted in a knot, the sight of it suddenly suffocating him. The feeling was like he was choking on his own guilt, the weight of every wrong decision he had made crashing down on him.

He remembered the night he had been with you, so vividly, so painfully. The way you had kissed him, pulled him in like you had always wanted this, like you had always wanted him. It had been reckless, wild, and hot, but it had felt right. And then… then he had been the one to ruin it.

He had never meant to hurt you. He never wanted to walk away from you, but somewhere in that whirlwind of emotions, of confusion, he had let his ego get in the way. 

The night you had spent together, the way you had laughed in each other’s arms, felt like it had been stolen from him. It should’ve been something that he held onto, something that pulled him back to you, but instead, he let his pride get the best of him.

That night after the Grand Prix, when he had seen the pictures, when the headlines screamed about him with another girl, it hit him harder than anything ever had. He had been drunk, so out of it, he hadn’t even realized the way the world would spin it. Some nosy people in the club had snapped pictures before either of them knew what was going on, and in that moment of complete foolishness, Lando had let it all slip away. He had been too embarrassed to even reach out to you, to try and fix the mess he had made. He had been too much of a coward.

The regret wasn’t immediate. At first, he tried to brush it off, convincing himself that it was just a mistake and that he could just forget it. He had to keep up appearances. But the more the days went by, the more he replayed that night in his mind, the more he felt the weight of what he had lost.

The truth was, the second he saw you looking at him with that painful distance, the second you pulled away without a word, he knew. He knew he had ruined everything. And the worst part was that he didn’t even dare to try and fix it. He didn’t text you. He didn’t try to explain. He just let you slip away like you were another girl in the blur of his life.

Now, seeing you here, seeing you with Eric—the man who was there for you, who had held you when you cried, who had shared your joys and your pain—it felt like salt on an open wound. He had taken that for granted, assumed that you would always be there, that he could always come back to you. But he had been wrong, so wrong. And the pain of realizing that now was almost too much to bear.

What made it worse was the quiet ache in his chest when he thought of what could’ve been. He could’ve been the one to hold your hand on this night. He could’ve been the one to put that engagement ring on your finger. He could’ve been the one you trusted, the one who stayed beside you. He could’ve been the one you looked at with that adoring, soft smile, the one who promised you forever. 

Instead, he had let his selfishness win, and now he was nothing.

He hated himself for it. He hated himself for every second he didn’t try harder, for every moment he could’ve reached out and didn’t. He was standing here, watching you, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to be the one to claim you, the one to fight for you. But he wasn’t. Eric was. 

And now it was too late, wasn’t it?

The truth of it crushed him, and he felt like an absolute fool. “How could I have been so stupid?” He thought, raking a hand through his hair, unable to shake the feeling of shame that flooded through him. He had watched you move on without him, and all he could do was stand in the corner, a mere spectator of the life he had so carelessly let go.

He remembered everything about you. The way you laughed, the way your eyes would light up when you were excited, the way your body felt pressed against his in the quiet moments, the soft whispers you’d share in the dark. It was like his heart couldn’t stop mourning the loss, mourning the future that had been so easily tossed aside.

His fists clenched as his eyes flicked back to you. You looked so beautiful, so radiant. The years hadn’t taken that from you. You had grown and blossomed into someone even more incredible than he remembered. But the realization hit him harder than anything else—you didn’t need him anymore. You had moved on. You had found someone who could give you everything he never could. And now, he was just a stranger in your world, a shadow of the man he used to be in your eyes.

The tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision for a moment. The weight of his mistakes threatened to drown him, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel it all—the regret, the longing, the ache of knowing he had let you slip away. It was like watching the best part of his life walk out of his reach, and all he could do was stand there, powerless, as the person he loved disappeared forever. 

The pain of knowing it was too late was unbearable. He had let you go when he should have held you close, should have fought for you with everything he had. But now… now, you were with Eric. And Lando knew, with a sickening finality, that he would never get the chance to be the one who made you his.

And that thought alone broke him.

Lando stood frozen near the edge of the ballroom, his drink long forgotten in his hand, as he watched you from across the room. You were laughing at something someone from the group you talked to had said, your head tilted back. It was the smile that used to belong to him. A smile he hadn’t realized how much he loved until it was too late.

The ache in his chest grew sharper with every passing second. He wanted to move, to say something, anything, but his feet felt like they were rooted to the ground. All he could do was watch you, knowing he didn’t belong in your world anymore. 

You turned toward Eric, your hand brushing against his arm as you said something softly, something Lando couldn’t hear. Eric looked at you, his hand sliding to the small of your back in a gesture so intimate, so natural, that it sent a dagger straight through Lando’s heart.

It could have been him. It should have been him.

Eric leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple, and Lando had to look away, the pain too much to bear. He clenched his jaw, blinking rapidly as the sharp sting of tears burned his eyes again. He didn’t cry. Not ever. But tonight, standing here, watching you with someone else, he felt like he might break.

The music changed, a slower song filling the room, and couples began to drift toward the dance floor. Lando’s eyes flicked back to you just as Eric took your hand, leading you toward the center of the room. You followed him with ease, your laughter spilling over as he twirled you playfully before pulling you into his arms. The two of you moved together, swaying in perfect rhythm, and Lando couldn’t look away.

He imagined himself in Eric’s place—holding you close, feeling your warmth against him, whispering secrets only the two of you could share. He imagined the life you could’ve had together, the nights spent tangled in each other’s arms, the mornings filled with quiet kisses and sleepy smiles. He imagined being the one to give you everything you deserved.

But that was all it was now—imagination. A dream that would never come true.

As the song ended and the crowd applauded, you turned toward Eric, your face glowing with happiness. And that’s when Lando knew—knew in a way that hit him like a freight train—that he had lost you. Not just for tonight, not just for a moment, but for good.

He stood there, rooted in place, as you and Eric made your way toward the exit, hand in hand. The sight of you walking away was almost too much to bear. He wanted to call out to you, to say something, to tell you everything he should have said years ago. But the words caught in his throat, and he could only watch as the distance between you grew.

As you reached the door, you glanced back for a brief second. Your eyes met his, and in that moment, he saw it—the flicker of something different, something that felt like a quiet goodbye, but also... fear? And then you turned away, disappearing through the doorway with Eric by your side.

Lando stayed where he was, staring at the space where you had been. The weight of his regret was suffocating, crushing him with the force of everything he had lost. The sound of the party faded into the background, the laughter and music drowned out by the echo of his thoughts.

It was over. He had let you go, and now there was no getting you back.

He stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air biting at his skin as he leaned against the railing. The stars above were impossibly bright, mocking him with their beauty. He let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping the cold stone as he tried to steady himself. But the ache in his chest refused to go away.

Lando closed his eyes, letting the pain wash over him. He had made his choice, and now he had to live with it. But as he stood there, alone under the stars, he couldn’t help but wish—just for a moment—that he could go back. That he could rewrite the story, change the ending, and be the man you deserved.

But life didn’t work that way. And as the night stretched on, Lando knew he would carry this regret with him forever.

────୨ৎ────

The drive home was thick with tension, the air between you and Eric heavy with unspoken words. Rain poured relentlessly against the car, the sound filling the silence that Eric refused to break.

You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, your hands resting in your lap as you stared at the blurry city lights outside the window. You tried to ignore the knot in your stomach, the lingering warmth of Lando’s presence a stark contrast to the icy atmosphere now suffocating you.

The wedding replayed in your mind—the glowing bride and groom, the joyous laughter, the dance floor alive with celebration. It should’ve been a night of happiness, a night that made you feel excited for your upcoming wedding. But instead, it had left you hollow, drowning in doubts you could no longer ignore.

Eric’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he navigated the slick roads. His jaw was set, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his body screamed louder than any words.

“I think it was a beautiful ceremony.” You said softly, trying to break the silence, but Eric didn’t respond. You hesitated, then tried again. “The food was amazing too. The cake—”

“You didn’t need any more cake.” He said abruptly, his voice cold and cutting.

The words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. You blinked, stunned, your mind scrambling to process what he’d just said. “What?” You whispered, your voice barely audible.

He finally glanced at you, his expression hard. “You heard me,” He said flatly. “You were already piling your plate up. Did you really need another slice? You’ll get fat if you eat this much.”

Your heart sank, the hurt flooding through you like a tidal wave. You hadn’t even eaten much—you’d been too nervous, too distracted by the night’s events and your own swirling thoughts. But his words cut deeper than the surface, touching on insecurities you’d tried so hard to bury.

“I wasn’t...” You trailed off, your voice trembling. “I wasn’t overeating. I just—”

“Don’t make excuses,” He snapped, his tone dismissive. “It’s not a good look.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you turned your head toward the window, unwilling to let him see you break. The rain outside mirrored the storm inside you, the sound of it hitting the car drowning out the sharp ache in your chest.

When Eric pulled into the parking lot of your building, he didn’t wait for you. He just turned off the car, grabbed the umbrella, and stepped out without a word. 

The rain was still coming down in sheets, soaking through your dress the moment you stepped outside. You struggled with your heels on the slippery pavement, nearly losing your footing as you hurried after him. He didn’t bother to slow down or offer a hand.

The final insult came when you saw him standing under the building’s awning, perfectly dry under the umbrella. He glanced at you once, his expression blank, then turned and walked inside without waiting for you.

You stumbled as you reached the door, the heel of your shoe catching on the wet ground. Your heart clenched as you caught yourself on the handle, the pain of his indifference sharper than the physical discomfort.

By the time you reached the apartment, your dress clung to your skin, your hair was plastered to your face, and your makeup smudged. Eric didn’t say a word as you closed the door behind you, the sound echoing in the tense silence.

“I’m going to change.” You murmured, your voice small.

Eric didn’t look at you. “Do whatever you want,” He muttered, kicking his shoes off before heading toward the kitchen. “I don’t care.”

You paused, your heart pounding as you watched him pour himself a glass of water. His movements were precise and controlled, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within you.

“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this, Eric,” You said, your voice trembling. “What did I do wrong?”

Eric set the glass down with more force than necessary, the sound making you flinch. He turned to you, his eyes narrowing. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” You asked, frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface.

“I can’t believe you embarrassed me like that!” He snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. You stood by the counter, your fingers clutching its edge as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. 

“What? I didn’t embarrass you, Eric,” You said, your voice shaking but firm. “I was just… talking to someone.”

“Talking to someone,” He repeated with a harsh laugh, turning on his heel to glare at you. “You mean Lando fucking Norris. The same guy you couldn’t take your eyes off all night. Do you even realize how pathetic that looked? My fiancée, giggling like a schoolgirl with some ex-flame in front of everyone we know.”

Your heart twisted at his words, the venom in his tone striking a nerve. “It wasn’t like that,” You said, your voice trembling. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“You don’t think it’s wrong to make me look like an idiot?” He shot back. “To stand there, laughing and smiling with him like I don’t even exist?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Eric, this isn’t about Lando,” You said carefully. “This is about us. About how you’ve been treating me.”

“Treating you?” His eyes widened in mock disbelief. “Are you serious right now? After everything I’ve done for you—everything I’ve sacrificed—you’re going to sit there and act like I’m the bad guy?”

“I’m not trying to make you the bad guy,” You said, your voice rising with frustration. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel. But you never listen, Eric. You don’t even care how your words affect me.”

“Oh, here we go,” He sneered, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Poor you. Always the victim. Always so sensitive.”

The words hit you like a slap, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. “This isn’t about being sensitive,” You said, your voice breaking. “It’s about respect. And you stopped respecting me a long time ago.”

Eric scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable. Do you think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel anything when we fight like this? I’m trying my best, but apparently, that’s never good enough for you.”

You stared at him, his words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. “Eric, this isn’t about effort. It’s about how you make me feel. And right now, I feel small. I feel worthless.”

His expression darkened, and he took a step closer. “Oh, so now I’m the reason you’re unhappy?” He said, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s rich. You were a mess when I met you. A complete wreck. I’m the one who fixed you, who gave you a life worth living. And this is how you repay me?”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words sinking in like a dagger to your chest. The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, hot and relentless. 

“Fixed me?” You echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. “You think I’d be nothing without you?” Your voice rose, trembling with emotion. “You think you’re the reason I’m standing here right now?”

His silence was deafening. He didn’t deny it. That was the moment it clicked—the realization that shattered whatever was left of your resolve. He didn’t see you as an equal, as someone to love and cherish. He saw you as a project, something he could control and shape into his own version of perfection.

“I’m done,” You said, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’m done letting you talk to me like this. I’m done letting you make me feel like I’m not enough.”

Eric’s expression shifted, panic flickering in his eyes. “Wait,” He said, his tone softening. “You don’t mean that. You’re upset, that’s all. Just—just calm down, okay? We can work this out.”

You shook your head, your tears falling freely now. “No, Eric. We can’t. Because I’ve been trying to ‘work this out’ for months, and all it’s done is break me.”

“Don’t do this,” He said, his voice pleading as he rushed over to you, gripping your wrists tightly. “Please. We’re supposed to get married. We’re supposed to spend our lives together. What about the plans we’ve already made? You can’t just throw that away!”

“Let go of me, Eric,” You hissed, trying to free your hands, “It hurts.”

“No! First you need to answer me.” He shouted, fastening his grip even more, your face twisting in a painful grimace.

“I’m not throwing it away,” You said, “You did that the moment you stopped treating me like someone you loved.” Then you shook your hands abruptly, his hands flying away from your wrists.

Then, you slipped the engagement ring off your finger and placed it on the counter, gently rubbing your wrists, where his hands were gripping on not so long ago.

His face twisted with anger and desperation as you turned and went to the front door. “If you walk out that door, don’t come crawling back to me when you realize no one else is going to put up with you!”

The words stopped you in your tracks, the cruelty of them stealing the breath from your lungs. For a moment, you thought you might collapse under the weight of it all. But then, a quiet voice inside you spoke up—a voice that had been buried for far too long. You deserved better.

Without another word, you turned around and walked to the door, each step feeling like a small victory. The rain hit your skin like ice as you stepped outside, but the storm couldn’t touch the fire burning inside you now.

You didn’t know where you were going or what the future held. But as you walked away from the life you once thought you wanted, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Freedom.

────୨ৎ────

The rain was merciless, soaking through your clothes, and clinging to your skin. You didn’t know where you were going at first, your mind spinning, your body on autopilot. The fight with Eric replayed in a relentless loop in your head—his cruel words, the venom in his voice, his tight grip, the way he’d dismissed you as though you were nothing.

For the first time, it felt like the truth had been laid bare: there was nothing left to fight for. The engagement was over. The fantasy you’d tried to sell yourself had crumbled. And yet, even knowing you had made the right choice, fear lingered in every step you took.

You had nowhere to go. No one to call.

Except him.

The thought stopped you in your tracks, rain dripping from your hair as you stared blankly at the empty street. Lando. His name echoed in your mind like a whispered confession, both a comfort and a torment. 

Was it even a good idea? You hadn’t properly spoken in years, and the when you saw him today, all you’d shared were strained smiles and awkward pleasantries.

But who else could you turn to? You weren’t ready to explain this to anyone—not your family, not your friends. You needed… warmth. Safety. And despite everything that had happened between you and Lando, he was the only person you trusted with your broken pieces.

With shaky breaths, you forced yourself to move, the address to his apartment burned into your memory.

When you reached his door, your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the sound of the rain. You hesitated, your fist hovering just inches away from the wood. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if this was a mistake? But as you stood there, shivering and drenched, you realized you had no other place to go.

Your knock was weak, barely audible over the downpour, but it was all you could muster. When the door opened, Lando froze, speechless. His eyes widened as he looked at you, but the concern that quickly followed melted the knot in your stomach. You must’ve looked like a mess—drenched, shivering, your face pale and streaked with rain and tears.

“Fucking hell, Angel,” He said softly, his voice warm despite the shock in his eyes. The nickname he used to address you slipped uncontrollably from his lips, bringing back that warm feeling in your stomach. “What happened?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a sob escaped, and the tears you had tried so hard to hold back began streaming down your face.

“Come in.” Lando murmured, stepping aside to let you in. 

The warmth and coziness of his apartment were a stark contrast to the cold rain outside. The soft glow of the lights wrapped around you, but it wasn’t enough to stop the trembling in your body. Lando took one look at you and made a quick decision.

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” He said gently. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

He led you down the hallway to the bathroom, the soft hum of the heating vent the only sound as he turned on the shower. Steam began to fill the room, fogging the mirror.

“There’s some towels here, and I’ll get you some clothes you can change into,” He said, placing a fresh stack of towels on the counter. “Take as long as you need.”

You nodded, your voice still caught in your throat.

“I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” He added, his gaze steady but filled with worry.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let yourself crumble. The hot water cascaded over you, washing away the cold and the rain but not the ache in your chest. Your sobs echoed in the small bathroom, raw and unrestrained.

Lando never left his place. He sat outside, his back against the door, listening. Every muffled sob that reached his ears made his heart clench. He hated hearing you like this, hated that you were in so much pain. He wanted to fix it, to fix everything, but he knew better than to rush you.

He couldn’t shake off the feeling that this might also be what you had sounded like when he left.

Minutes passed, maybe longer, before the sound of the water stopped. Lando stood up, his hands fidgeting nervously as he waited. When you finally opened the door, wrapped in the towel, he handed you his clothes and you hid in the bathroom again. Once you were done dressing up, you came out in one of his hoodies and a pair of sweats he’d left for you. Your eyes were red and swollen, but there was a faint glimmer of calm.

“Feeling a bit better?” He asked softly, his voice tentative.

You nodded, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. “Thanks.” You whispered, your voice barely audible.

He gestured with his head toward the couch, and you followed him silently. The room felt heavy with unspoken words as you sat down, tucking your legs beneath you. Lando sat beside you, leaving enough space to give you room but close enough that you could feel his presence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lando asked, his voice low and careful and you nodded. His eyes scanned your face, searching for answers. “Are you okay?”

The concern in his voice nearly broke you. You nodded quickly, playing with the sleeves of his hoodie that was too big for you. 

“I’m fine now. I just— …” You paused, the words sticking in your throat. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “What’s going on? What happened?” his voice was soft and tender.

“It’s complicated.” You whispered, avoiding his gaze.

Lando exhaled, standing up and running a hand through his curls. “Of course it is,” He muttered under his nose, his tone tinged with sarcasm. “It always is with you, isn’t it?”

You flinched, and he immediately softened, his frustration melting into guilt. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” Lando said quickly. “That was uncalled for. I just—” He cut himself off, pacing for a moment before turning back to you. “You, showing up here out of nowhere… it’s a lot to process.”

“I didn’t mean to put this on you,” You said quietly, your voice barely audible. “I just didn’t have anyone else.”

His expression shifted, guilt flickering in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain, Angel.” He replied, sitting down across from you, the unexpected nickname he used only for you made your stomach do a flip. But there was something guarded in his posture, like he was holding back.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Finally, he broke it. “So, what’s the deal? Did the perfect fiancé finally show his true colors?”

Your stomach twisted, and you looked away. “Actually… yeah.”

Lando’s brow furrowed, the sarcasm dropping from his face. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But there was no point in hiding it anymore. “I broke the engagement,” You admitted, your voice trembling. “I left him, Lando.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “You… broke it off?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again. “He wasn’t who I thought he was,” You said, your voice shaking. “He… he hurt me. In ways I didn’t even realize until it was too late.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. “Hurt you how?” He asked, his voice low, dangerous.

You didn’t answer, but his eyes drifted to the faint bruise on your wrists, and you saw the moment he pieced it together. His face darkened, his chest rising and falling as he fought to keep his composure.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“Why would I?” You shot back, the bitterness in your tone surprising both of you. “You left. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Lando flinched, his guilt written all over his face. “I know,” He said softly. “I know I fucked up. But if I had known…” He trailed off, his voice thick with regret. “I would’ve done something. I would’ve—”

“You didn’t,” You interrupted, your voice cracking. “You didn’t do anything, Lando. You just disappeared.”

The silence that followed was deafening. He looked at you, his eyes filled with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to untangle them. “You’re right,” He uttered finally. “I was a coward. I thought I was protecting you by staying away, but I was only protecting myself.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling in your lap. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” You admitted. “I just… I needed to feel safe. And for some reason, you’re the only person who makes me feel that way.”

Lando’s gaze softened, and the silence between you stretched like a chasm. You looked down at your hands, still trembling despite the warmth of Lando’s hoodie wrapped around you. The storm outside mirrored the one brewing inside—chaotic, relentless, and impossible to ignore.

“You’re safe here, Angel.” Lando had said. His voice was steady, but the tension in his body betrayed his emotions. You wanted to believe him. But after everything… could you?

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the room, filling the space between you. 

Finally, you broke the silence. “Why did you leave?” Your voice was quiet but laced with a sharp edge. “I know we weren’t together, but.. we did you leave?”

Lando’s shoulders stiffened. “I thought we have already covered this…” He said, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.

“No, we haven’t.” You shook your head, your gaze locking onto his. “You just gave me excuses. You said you were a coward, that you thought staying away was better for me. But why, Lando? Why did you leave without saying anything? Why did you let me think I was just… disposable?”

His face twisted with guilt, and he ran a hand through his curls. “I didn’t think you’d understand,” He admitted, his voice rough. “I was scared. I was so damn scared of what I was feeling, of how much you meant to me. And then I saw those photos—”

“Those photos,” You interrupted, bitterness seeping into your voice. “The ones with that girl? The ones that made me feel like I never meant anything to you?”

He flinched, his jaw tightening. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Then what was it?” You snapped, the anger you’d buried for years bubbling to the surface. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like you moved on in a heartbeat. Like I was just another girl to you.”

“You weren’t!” His voice rose, his frustration spilling over. “You were never just another girl. Don’t you get that?”

“Then why?” Your voice cracked, tears stinging your eyes. “Why did you leave me like that? Why didn’t you fight for me? Fight for us?”

He stared at you, his eyes filled with anguish. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you,” He said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I’d only screw things up more if I stayed. And when those photos came out… I was ashamed. I thought if I called, if I tried to explain, it would only make things worse.”

“And you think disappearing was the best option?”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” He admitted. “I was young, stupid, and scared. And I’ve regretted it every single day since.”

The sincerity in his voice cut through your anger like a knife, leaving you raw and exposed. You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield against the vulnerability threatening to consume you.

“I needed you,” You whispered. “I needed you, Lando, and you weren’t there.”

“I know.” His voice was soft, filled with regret. “And I’m sorry. I’ll never be able to say it enough—I’m sorry.”

The room fell silent again, save for the sound of the rain pounding against the windows. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “I don’t know if I can trust you again.” You said honestly, your voice trembling.

“I don’t expect you to,” He replied. “Not right away. But I’m here now. And I want to earn it, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

You turned to look at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was raw, unfiltered honesty. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.” His voice was firm, resolute. “I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

You nodded slowly, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. “But.. I don’t know if I’m ready for anything more than this—just talking, figuring things out.”

“That’s okay,” He said quickly. “We can take it slow. As slow as you need.”

A small, tentative smile tugged at the corner of your lips. For the first time in years, it felt like the walls you've built around your heart were beginning to crack.

Lando hesitated before speaking again. “What about Eric?”

You exhaled shakily, your fingers brushing against the faint bruise on your wrist. “It’s over. I broke the engagement. There’s nothing left to say.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable—relief, anger, protectiveness, all tangled together. “Good,” He said quietly. “You deserve better anyway.”

You looked at him, your chest tightening. “I don’t even know what I deserve anymore.”

“You deserve everything, Angel,” He said without hesitation. “And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes held yours—it was almost too much. 

But then you nodded, a single tear slipping down your cheek. “Okay,” You said softly. “But I need time.”

“You’ll have it.” He promised, and you nodded, letting his words settle over you. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was something. A tentative step forward.

As the storm outside began to ease, you found yourself studying him—his longer curls, the shadow of stubble along his jaw, the quiet determination in his eyes. He was still Lando, the boy who’d once made your heart race, but he was different now. Older, wearier.

A familiar stranger who somehow made you feel seen again, even after all the pain.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start again.

© haniette | 2025, all rights reserved.

reuploads and likes are highly appreciated ♡

[miakat9]

TURNS FROM THE PAST

Oscar Piastri X Engineer!fem!reader

Summary: Y/n and Oscar Piastri were once young lovers, but the pressure of racing and the distance between them tore them apart. Years later, they meet again when Y/n is hired as a Mechanical Engineering Assistant for McLaren. The tension between what once was and what is now puts them both to the test, as past feelings begin to resurface.

Words: 7K+

Warnings: Mentions of breakups, bottled up feelings, mentions of mechanical engineering jobs, and happy endings.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any mistakes that may be in the story. And I think the best way to write for pilots is to have the protagonist be an engineer hahaha I love it, you know.

MASTERLIST

The McLaren HQ boardroom was buzzing with activity. Engineers, strategists and the two drivers, Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris, were gathered together, listening intently to Zak the team boss as he discussed the second half of the season. The team boss was keen to stress the importance of staying focused and consistent.

However, before closing, he made an announcement that caught everyone's attention even more.

"I want to take this opportunity to talk about something historic for our team," Zak began, with an excited smile. "For the first time, we will have a female mechanical engineer working with us in the races. She will be an assistant for now, but based on her resume, I am fully confident that in a few years she could become one of the team's chief engineers."

The comment drew murmurs of approval and enthusiasm from around the room. Lando was the first to speak up.

"This is amazing! It's about time we had more brilliant women around here. I can't wait to meet our new engineer."

Oscar chuckles softly, knowing how Lando was around women.

"Lando, Lando!!" Oscar says singing to his friend who was in front of him and makes the team laugh.

"Hey! I'm really excited. This is a historic moment for the team." He kicks Oscar's leg under the table and smiles. Oscar glares at him for the kick and laughs at the comment.

"She'll be joining us in the races, starting now in the second part of the season," Zak continued. "She recently graduated from university. And her name is Y/n...!" He turned a sheet of paper in his hand, to make sure he got her last name right. "That's right, Y/n Vanpelt!"

Oscar's smile fell. He could feel time stopping.

The name echoed through the room. To everyone else, it was just the name of a new classmate. But to Oscar, it was like he was in a dream. He froze in his chair. Y/n VanPelt. His Y/n. Or rather, the Y/n who used to be his.

Images from the past flashed through Oscar’s mind: the trips to the junior teams, her in the pits cheering him on, the quiet moments they shared when they were together. The memory of how they had ended came back to him like a punch, even though the end had been amicable. Still, the void she had left was never filled.

"Dude, what's up?" Lando asked quietly, leaning forward in his chair across from Oscar. Noticing his friend's unusual silence.

Oscar blinked rapidly, coming back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just... thinking. It's great to have another engineer on the team."

But it wasn't all right. His heart was pounding, and he could barely concentrate on what Zak was saying as he talked more about her.

It was then that a knock on the door interrupted the meeting. The door opened, and there she was.

Y/n walked into the room wearing the McLaren uniform, the papaya t-shirt that looked like it was made just for her. Oscar could hardly believe how she looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

The years hadn’t dulled her shine. On the contrary, it seemed as if life had only enhanced what was already perfect. How could she transform even a work outfit into something so charming?

"Guys, I'm sorry I'm late for the meeting," she said with a light, genuine smile, the same smile Oscar remembered so well. "I got lost around here."

The room laughed, breaking the formality.

Y/n took a few more steps, not yet realizing he was there.

"Zak has probably already introduced me, but my name is Y/n Vanpelt and I'll be joining you for a few years as a mechanical engineering assistant at the races." She smiled, and Zak spoke again to emphasize again how happy he was to have her on the team.

It was then that her eyes met Oscar's. For a second, time seemed to stop again.

Oscar felt his heart race in his chest, almost as if he were on the starting grid. It was as if everything he had kept deep down for years was coming to the surface all at once. Yin froze for a moment. It was him. Oscar. The boy she had loved when she was younger, who she had watched grow up and who had supported him as he pursued his dreams.

The man she left behind but could never completely forget.

"Y/n will be working directly with Norris' car and its engineers, but of course, in times of need, she can also be called upon to assist with Piastri's car. This will be great for her initial learning and to get to know the dynamics of racing better."

Y/n nodded politely, maintaining a calm smile.

She had known since she accepted McLaren's offer that Oscar was part of the team. She had mentally prepared herself for it, but nothing had prepared her for the overwhelming feeling of seeing him again, there, in the same room, after so many years.

She adjusted the smile on her face, trying to hide any emotion. Luckily, no one seemed to notice. No one except Oscar. He continued to glance at her, and that small but familiar smile brought back memories he had tried so hard to push to the back of his mind.

Zak, oblivious to what was happening between the two, ended the meeting on an upbeat note.

"So, everyone, let's welcome Y/n! I'm sure she'll be a valuable addition to the team."

The engineers and strategists began to stand, some already going to greet her. Lando was one of the first, of course. He approached with a warm smile, extending his hand.

"Welcome, Y/n! It's great to have you here. I hope you can keep my car ahead of Oscar." He joked and got a few laughs from everyone around.

She laughed at the comment and thanked him for the welcome. "Thank you, Norris."

"Oh, you can call me Lando. We'll be working together now." He smiles friendly.

"Of course, Lando!"

Lando turned, clearly pleased with the first interaction, and looked to the side, expecting to see Oscar nearby.

"Hey, Oscar, come tell me..." He stopped mid-sentence when he realized his teammate was no longer there.

Y/n, curious, followed Lando's gaze, only to notice Oscar outside the room, walking down the hallway that was visible through the glass wall. He left discreetly, without drawing attention, but she saw him.

For a brief moment, her eyes locked onto him again, and a small smile escaped before she could stop herself.

Not wanting to show anything, Y/n turned her attention to the people around her, greeting the engineers and other team members who approached to welcome her.

•••••••••••••••••••••

It was Y/n's first time participating in a Grand Prix as an engineering assistant, and despite the typical Belgian cold, she felt an internal warmth, a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

I was in the McLaren garage, talking to Lando and three engineers about the final adjustments to his car.

"If something goes wrong, I'll only blame you, Y/n," Lando teased, winking at her.

She laughed.

"No pressure then. I'll make sure you at least get past Q1."

The engineers around them laughed, and Lando shook his head, clearly enjoying her sense of humor. Y/n felt more and more comfortable with the team, and the lightheartedness of the employees made it easy.

After they finished discussing the last details, she said goodbye to the group and left the garage. I felt like I needed a moment to breathe before the adrenaline of qualifying started. He decided to go to the team hospitality to get something hot.

Tea always helped her calm down.

When she entered the VIP room, she expected to find the seat empty, but instead she saw Oscar there, sitting near the window, looking out. He seemed to be enjoying a moment of peace before the hustle and bustle began.

He noticed her presence and turned his head towards the door. Their eyes met, and they both smiled, but the silence that followed was heavy, laden with things unsaid.

Y/n hesitated, but walked in, trying to look natural as she walked to the table where the tea options were. She was about to say something when Oscar finally broke the silence.

"Hey, Y/n..." He began, his voice calm but with a hint of nervousness. Piastri stood up and took a few steps towards her. "I'm sorry I didn't welcome you back at the meeting. I...I had something to take care of."

It was a lie, of course. But he didn't know how to admit that he had been taken aback by seeing her again.

Oscar held out his hand to her, his eyes fixed on hers. "But really, I'm so glad you're here. Welcome to McLaren."

Y/n smiled, squeezing his hand firmly.

"Thank you, Piastri. It's good to see you again."

When he heard her call him Piastri, Oscar felt a tightness in his chest, as if the sound of that name, so impersonal, created an abyss between them.

He was so used to hearing nicknames like Osc - Love - Darling - Sweetie. That Piastri seemed wrong coming from her voice.

The use of his last name was a painful reminder that they were now just colleagues, far removed from what they had once been. He kept the smile on his face, but inside, that word echoed, carrying an unexpected weight.

Y/n smiles and returns her focus to the hot water of her tea. The small physical contact between them made her heart beat fast inside her ribcage.

"So, how... how are you?" Oscar asked, his voice softer now. "How's life? I mean, in general."

She glances quickly at Oscar and then looks back at her cup.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm adapting to the new city where I bought my apartment, but it's good to have changes, isn't it?" She smiles. "I'm enjoying working here, even though...even though it's strange." She pauses and laughs awkwardly. "Strange because I used to run in the past, you know, but from a different perspective."

Oscar smiles and feels a pain invade his chest: Racing was also the reason for their breakup. And now, look, they both work with it and on the same team.

"And how are your parents?"

Y/n looks up, caught off guard. "Oh, they...they're doing well. Their jobs are pretty hectic, working at the CBI is tough though." She chuckles softly. "But they're doing really well. Really proud of me being here, you know how they are. Vanpelt being Vanpelt."

Oscar nodded, a slight smile forming on his lips.

"I'm glad. I've always liked them a lot."

Y/n felt her heart tighten. It was impossible not to remember how he was part of her family, how they spent four years together, from the beginning of his career to a part in Formula 2.

So many shared memories, so many conversations about dreams and fears. So many nights when she would wake up in the middle of the night to drink water and see Oscar in the living room talking to his father. Laughter, jokes and funny conversations were shared between father-in-law and son-in-law.

She looks away at the clock on the wall and sighs. "Well, I should get going... I need to help some more engineers with the cars." She drinks the rest of her tea. "Good luck qualifying!"

Oscar smiles and thanks her, following her with his eyes until she disappears from the room.

He felt his heart pounding and tears threatening to fall. The pilot raised his head a little, trying to make the tears come back. He sighed heavily and then went down to the garage too, he had to be in the car in a few minutes.

Hours passed, and the McLaren garage was in high spirits. Lando was on the track, qualifying. While Oscar was at the back of the garage, anxiously waiting for his turn.

Y/n had her headphones on, leaning on a bench as she looked at the monitors and saw data from Lando's car and how he was doing on the track.

"He's losing a bit of time in the medium corners. He could be in the top 5 in qualifying, but if we make this change he could get some hate tomorrow!" Y/n commented, pointing to the graphs. "Maybe tweaking the rear suspension setup a bit could help maintain more stability."

The engineers exchanged quick glances and nodded, already reviewing the settings.

"Sure!! We'll do it when he arrives!" Says one of the older engineers, writing on a tablet and smiling.

Y/n turned her gaze to the graphs and tables on the monitors. From afar, Oscar admired her.

It was fascinating to him to see how Y/n was in control, shining as an assistant, even in such a competitive environment. He saw her speaking with confidence, pointing out technical details that only someone with true passion and dedication would notice.

The way she interacted with the other engineers, how they seemed to respect her, made Oscar proud, but it also made his chest tighten.

When Lando returned to the pits, she waited for him next to the car with an encouraging smile. The driver takes off his helmet and Y/n smiles, patting him on the back.

"Hey, very good! Top 5 huh!" Lando smiles and pats her on the back as well. "You're in fifth place for now, but I doubt the next teams will be able to overtake you."

Lando smiles. "Hey, thanks. You're doing a great job here. You might even steal one of their jobs!" He turns playfully and points to his engineers.

They laugh.

Y/n walked back to the main dashboard, where the charts and graphs of Oscar's car were already starting to update. She adjusted her headset, trying to stay focused on the data, but it was impossible to ignore the familiarity of that name flashing on the screen: Oscar Piastri.

Her heart beat a little faster. Working so closely with Oscar was affecting her more than she cared to admit.

When Oscar appeared in the garage, ready to get into the car, Y/n was organizing the equipment next to his seat. He walked past her and, for a moment, it seemed like time stood still.

"Here..." She said, picking up the helmet beside her and handing it to him. Their fingers brushed lightly, and their eyes met for seconds that felt like minutes.

Oscar thanked him with a slight smile, his voice low. "Thank you."

They continued to stare at each other, a mix of tension and familiarity hovering between them. Y/n felt heat rise to her face, but didn't look away immediately, while he also seemed reluctant to break eye contact.

Lando, who was removing his gloves near the side of the car, noticed. He raised an eyebrow, noting the way they seemed trapped in that moment. It was subtle, but enough to be noticed. Lando didn't say anything, just went back to what he was doing, but a slight smile appeared on his lips.

He thought Oscar was into the new engineer. Not that they dated in the past.

Y/n composed herself, finally breaking contact and taking the wheel of Piastri's car, while he himself put on the balaclava.

When he got into the car, Y/n put the steering wheel and looked at Oscar, who had his visor up. Their gazes held for a while longer.

"Good luck, Piastri!"

"Thank you, Y/n." She sees him smile under his helmet and then lowers the visor.

The engine roared as he started and pulled out of the garage, leaving Y/n behind, feeling her heart beat wildly.

Oscar was on the track, completing his fast laps as the thunderous sound of the engine cut through the air of the circuit. In the garage, Y/n was focused on the graphics that flashed on the monitor, showing the data of his car in real time.

She analyzed every detail: the temperature of the tires, the speed on the straights, the behavior of the car on the curves.

Chatting briefly with the engineers around her, suggesting small adjustments to the front wing and differential. Her posture was serious, but there was a sparkle in her eyes—she was completely immersed in her work, as if every detail was part of a puzzle she loved solving.

As soon as the car returned to the garage, Oscar stepped out of the cockpit, removing his helmet with quick movements. He looked around, visibly anxious to know his position.

One of the engineers approached with a smile. "Sixth place, Oscar. A great lap."

Oscar breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, running his hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He was satisfied, although he was already starting to think about what he could improve for the next day.

Across the garage, Y/n watched the scene. When Oscar's eyes briefly turned to her, she smiled genuinely, that encouraging smile she always had, even in the old days.

"Good job, Piastri. Sixth place is a great starting point," she commented, her tone light but firm.

Oscar smiled back, still holding his helmet. "Thank you, dear." He said quietly, but Y/n could read his lips.

•••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n was already adapting to the exhausting routine and intense environment at McLaren. She got along well with the team, her technical knowledge and dedication were already being recognized, but whenever she had to interact with Oscar, the tension would set in again.

She knew he was handling the situation impeccably, maintaining professionalism in every exchange of words, but it was impossible not to notice the lingering glances or the pauses between responses.

It was as if they were both constantly treading on an emotional minefield, where any slip-up could bring to light the past they both avoided.

And even though the breakup ended with them being friendly. No fighting, arguing or finger pointing, just saying what would be best for them at the moment, the tension of seeing the love of their life in front of them again was overwhelming.

It was like reliving memories they had never been able to erase, even after so many years. They missed each other. A lot, a lot.

While Y/n was adjusting Lando's graphics, one of the engineers asked her to get some equipment from the back of the garage.

Walking back, still remembering the numbers she needed to analyze, she hurriedly turned the corner and bumped into someone. The force of the impact almost made her drop what she was holding, but it was the familiar face that made her gasp.

Oscar stood there, equally surprised. He reflexively grabbed her arm, helping her steady herself. For a moment, they both stood still, their eyes fixed on each other. And then it dawned on Piastri.

She still wore the necklace he had given her as a gift, with his first salary as a pilot. The jewel was silver, delicate with small red hearts. Simple, but with great emotional impact.

Oscar felt his heart squeeze. But it was out of love, he could feel his heart beating so fast because of how much love he still had for her.

They stood still, their eyes fixed on each other, as if there was a silent conversation going on between them, full of words neither of them had the courage to say out loud.

Oscar swallowed hard, trying to shake off the whirlwind of emotions that hit him. He forced a smile, his voice slightly teasing.

"In a dream world, as always, huh?"

Y/n blinked, snapping out of her own trance. She laughed, embarrassed, adjusting her necklace almost unconsciously.

"And you're still the most distracted driver off the track. You should be watching where you're going too," Oscar smiled, chuckling softly at the comment.

They exchanged one more look, and then Y/n muttered an "Excuse me" before walking past him and heading back to her station.

Lando, who was nearby, watched the scene from afar. He frowned, curious. As soon as he got the chance, he crouched down next to Y/n, lowering his voice so that no one else would hear.

"What's going on between you two? Ever since you arrived, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife."

Y/n looked at him, pretending to be confused, and laughed softly. "Nothing, Lando. We're acting completely normal."

"Normal?" Lando arched his eyebrows, a mischievous smile appearing. "This is far from normal. There's something going on. Feelings, tension... I don't know."

She choked on the words, looking at him in surprise. "Lando, it's nothing like that. I swear."

"Oh, really? Then why do you two look like shy teenagers every time you're in the same room?" He tilted his head, waiting for an answer.

Y/n defeated, drops her tablet on the table and looks at Lando, with an expression like she was about to tell him everything. "Okay, okay. We... dated... For four years."

Lando's eyes widened, surprise written all over his face. "FOUR YEARS? You were together for four years and you're saying it's no big deal?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Y/n looked around to make sure no one else was listening. "It's no big deal now. It was a thing...of the past."

No, it wasn't just one thing and it wasn't just in the past.

Lando laughed in disbelief. "You still love each other, trust me."

Before she could respond, he raised his hands in surrender and returned to his seat, leaving Y/n to stare uncomfortably at the monitors.

She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking about it. Her eyes were fixed on the data tables of Oscar's car.

Time passed, and the Monza Grand Prix race was already underway. Everyone in the McLaren garage had their eyes fixed on the big screen and the engineers on the graphs and numbers that the drivers' cars were transmitting.

Y/n was helping with both Lando's and Oscar's cars. She had her headphones on, but could only hear the instructions from Lando's engineers.

As he analyzed the data on the monitors, he noticed Oscar's engineers beginning to fidget. They were talking rapidly into the radio, trying to deal with something urgent.

Curious, Y/n took off her headphones and approached the group. "What's going on?"

One of the engineers explained that they were dealing with overheating brakes, something that could force Oscar to abandon the race if it wasn't fixed quickly. She frowned, thinking of a solution.

"We can adjust the air intake to increase cooling. It will be risky, but it could work until the end of the race."

The engineers exchanged glances before nodding. They quickly radioed Oscar into the pits.

"Hey, could I adjust the data?" She asks shyly, to one of the chief engineers of Oscar's car. He smiles kindly.

"Sure, sure! Feel free."

Y/n excuses herself and thanks her, before sitting in front of the panels and starting typing numbers and formulas to change the data.

She saw Oscar's car pull into the garage, and within 2 seconds he was gone, heading back to the track. She was still sitting near the dashboard of his car, and as one of the Australian's engineers walked by, she turned with a smile, peeling off her nail polish before gently asking,

"Could...could I follow the charts here? Just...just in case." It was a professional excuse, but deep down, she knew she wanted to be closer to Oscar.

"Yes, yes. I'll get you a headset."

She felt grateful. Then she took the headphones that one of them gave her and made herself more comfortable, watching the numbers and data that Oscar's car updated every second. Her heart was beating faster than it should have, but she forced herself to stay focused.

It was just work, she repeated to herself.

But being there, watching the numbers that reflected her ex-boyfriend's performance on the track and hearing his voice on the radio from time to time, brought a feeling that was hard to ignore.

Even so, Y/n concentrated, mentally noting small adjustments that could be useful, knowing that she couldn't let her emotions interfere. But, deep down, being there, so close to him and at the same time so far away, was more difficult than she imagined.

Halfway through the race, as the cars slid down the track, Y/n noticed something unusual on Oscar's graphs. Some of the data was out of the ordinary, and she frowned, analyzing the information quickly.

"Something's wrong here," she muttered, attracting the attention of one of the engineers. "Can you tell Piastri about this? He needs to adjust-"

Before he could finish, the engineer smiled encouragingly. "Why don't you speak yourself? You can use the radio. It's faster."

She blinked in surprise. “Me?” Her voice sounded more nervous than she would have liked. Her heart immediately raced, but she hid it by nodding firmly. “Okay. I can do that.”

Y/n adjusted the microphone, taking a deep breath as she gathered her courage. After all, it was just work, nothing more.

Her voice controlled, she spoke into the radio, professional but with a slight hesitation: "Piastri, this is Y/n. I'm seeing something on the graphs. If you could adjust the rear differential slightly for the next corner, it should help with stability. Got it?"

And there was the last name again. She had been working with them for four races, and whenever she talked to Oscar or referred to him, Piastri was the name. It made the younger driver feel crushed and on the verge of tears.

On the other side, there was a brief but meaningful silence. Oscar was so focused that for a moment his mind was lost when he heard that voice.

In Y/n's voice. Your beloved, Y/n.

He didn't expect this, and for a moment he stopped paying attention to the next turn, feeling a different warmth spread through his chest.

"Plasters? Do you understand?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Understood. I'll make the adjustment now. Thanks for the suggestion."

He knew he was supposed to sound casual, but the slight pause in his response gave away the impact of that interaction.

On the other side, Y/n just breathed a sigh of relief, focusing on the numbers again, while trying to ignore the sound of her own heart, which seemed as loud as the roar of the cars on the track.

The race ended with a mixture of tension and joy in the McLaren garage. Oscar crossed the line in second place and Lando in first, securing their places on the podium.

The team burst into celebration, but Y/n, even smiling at the result, preferred to remain in the background, busy analyzing the final data and updating graphs. She did not go to the podium.

Not that she wasn't happy, but because she thought it was better to stay focused on work - or at least that's what she told herself.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/n kept herself busy, but she couldn't help but feel flashes of happiness as she remembered how her advice had helped ensure that outcome. Deep down, she felt proud, but she didn't want to stand out. It was her job, after all.

After stepping down from the podium, still with his racing suit half open and his hair damp with champagne, Oscar walked back to the garage. He looked tired, but radiant. As soon as he spotted Y/n in the back, his smile softened, and he walked over to her.

"You were amazing today," he began, stopping a few feet away from her. "Seriously, that suggestion on the radio... it was crucial. I wouldn't have made it to the podium without it. Thank you, Y/n."

She looked up from her charts, surprised by his direct gratitude. A shy smile played on her lips. "I was just doing my job, Oscar. But I'm glad it helped."

Finally she hadn't used the driver's last name. Oscar. The name itself made the McLaren driver's heart race.

Oscar's gaze softened even further, and for an instant, the world around them seemed to disappear.

They stared at each other, as if there was something unsaid, something that only they understood. There was an intense emotional charge to the connection that they both thought they had left in the past, but which was still very much alive.

Before anyone could say anything, a voice called Oscar to the media appointments. He sighed, lowering his head to hide it, before smiling again at Y/n.

"Thank you once again... My sunshine." The word came out softly, almost like a whisper.

The nickname he used when they were dating made Y/n's heart race. She stood frozen, watching as he walked away, his hand sliding briefly and gently over her shoulder, a touch almost imperceptible, but full of meaning.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, Y/n stood there, motionless. The nickname echoed in her mind, along with the memory of everything they had shared in the past. Her heart clenched, and tears began to well up in her eyes. She took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure.

Then one of the engineers called out to her, bringing her back to reality. She quickly wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand and adjusted her posture before turning around and answering. She went back to work as if nothing had happened, but inside, she knew something had changed.

The noise of the rush had finally died down, and the garage was nearly empty. Only a few people were still working, dismantling equipment or organizing tools.

Y/n was sitting on a counter, her feet dangling as she typed on the computer the modifications she had made to the cars during the race. With her headphones playing music, she was immersed in her own bubble, focused on her work and oblivious to the rest of the environment.

Oscar entered the garage silently. He watched Y/n for a moment, her face illuminated by the laptop screen, her hair falling lightly over her eyes as she typed. A small smile appeared on his lips at the sight of her so focused.

He walked up to her and, without saying anything, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly in surprise.

She looked up at him and smiled shyly before taking off her headphones. "Hi," she said, still a little surprised to see him there.

"Hi!" He replied with a small smile, before pulling out one of the high-backed engineer stools and sitting across from her.

He made a casual comment about the race, something about how second place was a good result, and she responded with a smile, closing her laptop as she nervously bounced her feet.

His eyes fixed on his own sneakers, avoiding direct eye contact.

Silence settled between them, heavy with something they could both feel but neither knew how to break. Finally, Oscar took a deep breath and asked, his voice low and careful.

"Can I talk to you?"

She looked at him, surprised, but nodded slowly. "Sure. It's okay."

Piastri hesitated for a moment, running a hand through his hair before continuing. "It's about... about us, actually."

The surprise in Y/n's eyes was evident, but she kept her tone calm. "You can talk," she said, trying to ignore the lump that was starting to form in her throat.

Oscar looked at her, his eyes reflecting emotions he rarely expressed. "What was it like for you... the breakup?"

Y/n felt her heart sink. She took a deep breath, gathering the courage to answer. "It was hard," she began, her voice cracking. "Really hard. But I knew that... that at the time it was what needed to be done. We were both on such different paths, and it was all so complicated." A lone tear escaped, but she ignored it, focusing on what she was saying. "It's still hard sometimes. Thinking about everything we've been through, how it felt so right, and yet..." Her voice trailed off, but she took a deep breath to continue. "It still didn't work out."

Oscar felt his chest tighten as he saw tears begin to form in her eyes. He was silent for a moment, processing her words, before finally confessing.

"And you?"

"For me, it was devastating. It was like... like I lost a part of myself. I tried to focus on work, but nothing seemed to make sense. I tried to move on, but... I think about you every day. Seeing you here now, every week, helps a little bit. It's like a part of me is whole again." He looked directly into her eyes, vulnerable. "It was painful, Y/n. Much more than I imagined it would be."

Y/n blinked rapidly, trying to hold back her tears, but they fell anyway. Oscar noticed and, without thinking twice, got up from the bench and approached her. He raised his hand hesitantly and, when he realized she wouldn't move away, he gently wiped the tears from her face.

"Sorry" the pilot said softly, his voice full of regret.

She gave a weak smile, knowing that was a characteristic of him. Always apologizing, even when it wasn't necessary. "You always apologize for everything, you know?" She said, her tone soft.

He laughs softly.

Before they could say anything else, someone came into the garage, announcing that the lights would be turned off in ten minutes. They both nodded, slightly embarrassed, coming back to the present.

Y/n closed her laptop and tucked it under her arm. Before leaving, she patted his shoulder lightly, smiling. "See you at the next race."

Oscar smiled at her, watching as she walked away down the driveway. Even after she was out of sight, he stood there for a few moments, feeling the weight and intensity of the conversation.

•••••••••••••••••••••

The weeks passed, and the end of the season was fast approaching. Between traveling, strategizing, and intense racing, Y/n and Oscar seemed to have found a rhythm amidst their constant coexistence.

In the moments spent together with the team, the jokes flowed, the laughter escaped naturally, and the tension of the past seemed almost forgotten. But when they found themselves alone, even briefly, Y/n felt her heart race, as if the control she was trying to maintain over her feelings was hanging by a thread.

In the quick glances and the small moments when their paths crossed, it was evident that the past was still there, alive in both of them.

Over the last few GPs, Y/n has started to focus more on Oscar's car, a natural move given his growing technical knowledge and his ability to analyze performance data in real time.

Lando noticed the change and was happy to see the closeness between the two. He didn't know the details of their past, but something in the way Oscar looked at Y/n and her smile when she answered was enough for him to silently root for the couple.

Now at the race in Brazil, Y/n was on Oscar's radio, following the car's graphs and data.

"Oscar, you're losing time in sector 2. You could try using the middle of the track more in turn 8 to gain stability on the exit."

Her voice was professional, calm, but Oscar felt a slight warmth when he heard it. He replied firmly, “Understood, I will adjust it.”

A few laps later, she spoke again: "Your pace is good, but watch out for rear tire wear. Slow down on the tighter corners."

Oscar responded with a light tone of humor, breaking the tension a little: "So, no exaggerations? Understood, boss."

Y/n smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "Exactly, no exaggeration. We're watching."

And then, on the last lap, Oscar crossed the finish line first.

The garage exploded in joy, screams and applause echoing throughout the space. Y/n felt tears start to form, a mixture of relief, pride and something deeper that she couldn't explain.

For the first time, Y/n followed the podium closely. He stood alongside the team, watching as Oscar lifted the trophy. He looked at the audience and saw her there, a little more comfortable in his presence, applauding along with the others and the tears were falling. The smile on Oscar's face seemed brighter at that moment.

Y/n returned to the garage before the excitement of the podium ended. She was gathering her things from a workbench, organizing papers and turning off the computer, while the adrenaline from the race still pulsed through her veins.

Oscar, stepping down from the podium, looked around, searching for her. He spotted Y/n in the background, almost hidden in the corner of the garage, and something in his chest tightened.

He didn't think; he just acted.

With firm steps, he left the first place trophy on the nearest table and walked straight towards her.

"Y/n!" His voice cut through the muffled sound of the conversations around them.

She turned at the sound of her name, a soft smile appearing on her face as she recognized the voice. But before she could say anything, Oscar was there, right in front of her. Without hesitation, he cupped her face with both hands and pulled her in for a kiss.

The world seemed to stop. The heat of his touch ran through Y/n's entire body, making her forget where she was. The kiss was full of accumulated feelings. longing, passion, relief, and a mix of all the things they never had the courage to say. For Oscar, it was like coming home; for Y/n, it was like finding something she didn't even know she was still looking for.

For a moment, they were lost in each other, feeling everything they had repressed for so long. Y/n's hands rose to his shoulders, while Oscar leaned in even closer, as if afraid she would slip away.

A passionate kiss with a taste of champagne.

When they finally separated, they were both panting, their foreheads almost pressed together. The look in Oscar's eyes was intense, and Y/n could barely process what had just happened.

Before they could say anything, a voice echoed through the garage. "Oscar! Come on, they're waiting for the interviews!" It was Lando, calling him from afar.

Oscar looked at Y/n, who was still stunned, and a smile played on his lips. "I'll be back. Wait for me, okay?"

And with that, he walked away, leaving Y/n there, her heart racing and her lips still tingling from the kiss.

Lando saw her smile as the girl leaned against the table, trying to absorb what had happened.

"Are you okay?" He asks with a laugh and Y/n looks up at her friend and teammate.

"We kissed!" She smiles.

Lando laughs and gives a thumbs up. "Great! I'm happy for you guys!" He sends her a sincere smile and walks away, laughing at his friend's silly comment.

After the kiss in the garage, Oscar's words still echoed in Y/n's mind: "I'll be back. Wait for me." She tried to focus on her work, but every detail seemed distant, as if the world around her was blurry.

As soon as he finished his tasks, he asked someone from the team to tell Oscar that he had already returned to the hotel.

Hours later, while relaxing in the hotel lobby, Y/n was enjoying the warm Brazilian breeze. She was in a casual conversation with some of the girls from the media team, trying to distract her mind and avoid thinking about the kiss.

It was then that she saw him.

Oscar walked through the front door with Lando, his confident posture contrasting with the slight blush that rose when he noticed Y/n.

Their eyes met, and he smiled, beckoning her with a subtle movement of his finger. Her heart skipped a beat.

Excusing herself from the girls, she walked towards him, feeling Lando's encouraging gaze, who soon headed towards the elevators, leaving the two alone.

Oscar smiled, his voice gentle as he asked, "Can we talk for a bit?"

She nodded with a shy smile, leading him hand in hand to the pool area, where the lights reflected on the water in an almost magical way. The soft sound of the water was a perfect contrast to the whirlwind of feelings inside her.

The air was warm, but Y/n felt butterflies in her stomach, as if she knew something important was about to happen.

Oscar broke the silence first. "I wanted to apologize for the kiss."

"You don't need to apologize. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have continued." Her words brought visible relief to him.

"Y/n... I can't keep it in anymore. Ever since you showed up on the team, it all came back. I tried to ignore it, I tried to be professional, but... I can't. I still love you. I always have. All these years I thought that with time it would pass, but it didn't. And now, seeing you every week just showed me that it will never pass."

Y/n felt her eyes water, but she kept her gaze fixed on him. "Ouch... I know. I tried to convince myself that our story was over, that it was the best thing for both of us at the time.

But every time I see you, I realize I was wrong. Our love is not dead. I know that."

He took a step closer, his eyes shining in the pool lights. Slowly, Oscar lifted one hand and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, the gesture so simple yet so intimate.

"Our love will only die when we both die of old age."

She laughed passionately, and before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her again. It was a different kiss, calmer, but full of promise and certainty. When they broke apart, they both had tears in their eyes and smiles on their lips.

"I love you, my sunshine." He said, his voice firm.

"I love you, love," she replied, her voice choked with emotion.

He held her hands gently. "I want to try again. Both of us. No matter what comes, I want to be by your side. Can we go back?"

Y/n nodded, tears streaming down her face as she smiled. "Yes, Osc. I want to go back. I want our story back."

They embraced, a gesture full of relief, love and hope. Under the lights of the hotel, with the soft sound of the pool and the Brazilian heat all around them, they knew they were taking the first step towards a new beginning.

This time, there was no doubt. What they had was real, strong, and meant to last.

[miakat9]

just us // ln4

pairing: lando norris X reader

word count: 15k (again i don't know how to write short fics)

warnings: cursing, alcohol use, smut (18+) (p in v, no protection, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, slight degradation, and exhibitionsim if you squint)

includes: friends to lovers, hidden relationship, jealous!lando, reader and lando being yappers, and reader X max f X lando friendship

summary: the three times your secret relationship with lando almost gets exposed and the one time it finally does.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The sun had just made her grand entrance to the world, golden rays illuminating the quiet Monaco apartment owned by a certain McLaren F1 driver. White bed sheets askew as the two lovers still slept soundly, soft snores echoing through the bedroom. Clothes from the previous nights activities scattered across the floor, almost making a path from the front door to their shared bed. The idea of waking up on neither of their minds, but the sun ray peeking through the open blind caused one of them to stir.

The light shining directly on your face proved opening your eyes to be a little difficult. Squinting, you blindly reached towards the nightstand to grab your phone, but the empty pats on the wood told you your phone wasn't there. A small groan left your lips, even without your phone to see what time it was, you knew it was early. You knew just from the certain birds that were chirping outside, their melodies always filling your ears when you had to get up early.

As you sat up in bed you noticed your lack of pajamas, and as you spotted the trail of clothes leading out of the bedroom you knew your phone had to be somewhere between here and the front door. Memories of the passionate night the two of you shared came flooding back as you leaned against the headboard, the bed sheet tucked under your arms being the only thing to keep your modesty.

The snores coming from beside you told you that Lando was still sound asleep. He was laying on his stomach with his face turned towards you and his arms tucked under his pillow. His muscular arms on full display as he slept like a baby. The shared sheet only covering his bottom half, allowing for his toned back to be exposed.

It was a rare occurrence for the two of you to get mornings like this, or really any chance for you to just admire him in his natural beauty. Lando was always the first to wake, not that he wanted to be, but his lifestyle required him to. Either waking up to travel for race weeks, work out, or work on Quadrant stuff. The boy was going nonstop, so moments like this you never took for granted. It almost brought a sense of normalcy to your lives.

As he laid next to you right now he wasn't some famous Formula 1 driver, he was just Lando. The sweet boy who always texted you good morning and goodnight when the two of you were apart, the boy who always ate the tomatoes off your sandwiches, who always let you pick the music in the car, who always brings you back a stupid tourist souvenir from races you didn't attend. He was yours, every last bit of him.

Your eyes now fully adjusted to the sunlight, grazed over every detail of him. From his little moles, to his eyelashes that made his eyes even more beautiful, to his perfect nose, his jawline sculpted by the gods, and lastly his heart shaped lips. As your eyes moved down to his back you could resist in reaching out your hand to trace mindless patterns as you counted every little mole and freckle that adorned his back.

Feeling him stir under your touch you quickly snatched your hand back, the last thing you had wanted to do was wake him up. And you had thought you were in the clear until a deep, still filled with sleep, voice filled your ears.

"Why'd you stop for?" His eyes were still closed as he untucked his hand from under his pillow, grabbing your now idle hand and moving it back to its prior location on his back.

"So needy." You teased as you resumed the mindless patterns you drew moments ago.

"Hmm. Only for you." He hummed as he felt your touch on him once again. The sensation almost lulling him back to sleep, until the sun that had awoken you moved towards Lando, the beam of light now adorning his face. He looked almost ethereal to you in this light, a moment you wished you had your phone for to capture. His blue eyes even brighter as the light poured into them. "Jesus." He mumbled as he quickly moved away from the light.

"Yeah I don't think the sun wants us to sleep in today, woke me up too." You glanced back at the open blind, then back to the Brit who now was on his side, hand propping up his head as he looked at you. "Maybe if someone closed the blind last night we'd both still be asleep."

A smirk formed on his face at the memories of last night's events. "Maybe if someone would have kept their hands off of me, I would have remembered to close the blind."

"As if!" You scoffed.

His eyebrows raised, cheesy grin on his face as he recalled your words to him. "Really? Because all I can seem to remember is 'lan please touch me' 'i need you' 'don't sto-"

A pillow came barreling towards his face, his words mumbled as he continued to tease you. "Ok! Enough!" You hollered out, a blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words.

"Awe, is my girl embarrassed?" Laughter laced in his words as he moved closer to you. "Honestly I love the fact that you can't keep your hands off me and the day that I don't is the day I need to be taken out back and shot."

"You're so fucking dramatic I cannot." You laughed, eyes rolling playfully at him. "It's a good thing I love you Norris."

His smile still not leaving his face as he switched to join you in sitting up in bed. His hands reaching out to cup your face as he leaned in closer. "You better." He teased before connecting his lips with yours. The feeling something you prayed you'd never grow tired of. His kisses always had somewhat of a drug feeling to you, always making you want more, point proven as he went to pull away you were grabbing at him, pulling him back in. And when you had finally got your full fix he was the one that looked like a dopey fool, lips swollen and eyes hooded. "God I love you." He stated as his fingers traced from your neck down to your arm.

A smirk was tugging at your lips as you repeated Lando's words back to him. "You better."

The two of you spent the remainder of the morning wrapped in each other. Your head on his chest as he ran his hands through your hair, your fingers tracing patterns on his torso. It was peaceful, until the obvious topic that lingered in both your minds had finally festered enough. "We need to talk about yesterday Lan."

Ah, yes, yesterday. How could he forget? How could he forget that he exposed their hidden relationship to the whole world on accident.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The said hidden relationship had been going on for around seven months, but Lando and you had known each other for years. The two of you met through mutual friends and instantly clicked. A bond formed and in what seemed like no time. Lando was someone you considered a best friend or a platonic other half, he just somehow always got you, knew what you were thinking, knew what to do when you were feeling upset or stressed. For Lando you were the one person who could calm him down after a bad race, who could make him laugh without even trying, and was the first person he thought of when he woke up in the morning. You knew each other's favorite foods, childhood dreams, and embarrassing secrets.

You attending the occasional races that were closer to home soon turned into Lando practically begging you to come to any race you could. Off weeks and breaks always spent in each others company. To any outsider looking in, the two of you were practically already together, at least it seemed like it. But if anyone asked either of you if there were feelings there (which many friends had) the both of you would say no. The both of you had never looked at each other in that way. Yes you loved him and you knew he loved you. And yes you weren't blind he was very attractive, but romantic feelings had never crossed your mind. You always pointed out to the people that prodded you with questions about Lando and you, that the both of you've had relationships in the time you've known each other. None of them ever lasting very long though. The both of them not knowing at the time that they were the main causes of their failed relationships.

Though, everything changed one cold January night in London. He had been handsy with you all night at the club, which Lando's hands on you wasn't a new concept, but tonight was excessive and different. His large hands always somehow planted on your hips, his chin resting on your shoulder. You blamed it on the alcohol, that he was just feeling affectionate, but you couldn't deny the feelings that were starting to fester inside of you. The feeling of him pressed up behind you. The feeling of his breath tickling your neck when he would whisper something in your ear. It was awakening something foreign in you towards Lando.

You could feel people's eyes on the two of you, videos undoubtedly being uploaded to social media. It wasn't the first time you had gotten filmed in public, in fact you were used to it, but under tonights circumstances you felt annoyed. You weren't sure if it was the music pouding in your chest or your heart, but combine that with the random eyes staring at you while Lando's hands are on you and this club was the last place you wanted to be. It felt suffocating almost, and you could barely manage to tell Lando you were heading home before you wriggled out of his grasp and made a b-line for the exit.

The cold air that hit your lungs as you exited the club was a soothing relief. The deep breaths you took as you pulled up Uber on your phone had managed to steady your heart rate, but that lasted for a mere second as a familiar hand landed on your shoulder.

"Y/N. Are you okay?"

Goosebumps formed on your skin and you weren't sure if it was from the cold or his touch. You didn't dare look back at him, just focused your attention on getting a ride. "I'm not feeling great. Think I may have drank too much." Lie. Both you and Lando knew you had barely had two drinks tonight and your very much coherent words did nothing to back up your statement. "I've got an Uber on the way. You stay. I'll be fine." Your eyes never leaving your phone as you spoke.

Lando had shuffled to the side of you and you could feel his eyes burning into you. "No, if you're leaving then so am I. Think I could crash at your place?"

Any other night this wouldn't have been such a big deal, Lando had stayed the night at your place many of times and you vise versa, but tonight was not like any other night. The mere idea of sharing a bed with him (because that's what friends do right?) made your head spin. All you had wanted to do was go home, take a cold shower, and try to rationalize these feelings you've had tonight. But your mouth was thinking faster than your brain and a 'sure' came tumbling out past your lips.

"Ok good." Lando stated, a smile tugging at his lips as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. The simple action causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach and that's when you knew the goosebumps from earlier were caused by the later option.

The 15 minute drive back to your place felt like an eternity.

The simple gesture of Lando putting his hand on your thigh as you got settled in the back seat made your breath catch in your throat. His head quirked towards you, eyebrows furrowed and his long fingers squeezed your thigh as he asked. "You good?"

You were in fact far from good. Your best friend was getting you hot and bothered in the back of an Uber, so no you weren't good.

"Just choked on my own spit, you know me."

The entire ride his hand felt like a thousand pounds on your thigh, the gesture that you never once batted an eyelash at now had you practically wanting to jump out of the moving vehicle.

The smell of his cologne was making your head spin as you tried to focus on anything other than how fast your heart was beating. If it hadn't been freezing outside you would have rolled down the window and stuck your head outside like a dog.

As the driver turned down your street you already had a grip on the door handle and he hadn't even come to a complete stop before you were opening the door and getting out.

Lando was fast on your heels, and by the time you entered your apartment you had decided that you were sleeping on the couch tonight.

A puzzled Lando stood motionless as he watched you carry a pillow and blanket from your room to the couch in the living room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna sleep out here tonight. You can have my bed." You stated as you made your way towards your bedroom to grab some pajamas. The faster you could get ready for bed and away from whatever spell Lando had on you the better.

He had sat down on your bed as you rummaged through your dresser and you hadn't even heard him follow you to the bathroom until he spoke.

"Are you still not feeling good? Is that the reason you're sleeping on the couch? Or are you pissed at me? I'm already sorry for whatever I did."

As you glanced over at him he was leaning against the door frame and the sight of his shirt slightly raised up should not have made your heart beat quicken like it did, but yet here you were. You ignored his question, instead you were digging through the bathroom drawers, on a mission for your makeup wipes, but you couldn't seem to locate them.

"Top left." Lando shuffled into the bathroom towards the said drawer and as he pulled it open there sat your makeup wipes. A small smirk played at his lips as he handed them over to you.

You mumbled out a 'thanks' as you took them from him. As you took off your makeup he grabbed his toothbrush from the medicine cabinet. And as the two of you stood side by side getting ready for bed you realized just how much the scene playing out was nothing shy of domestication. What male friend knows what drawer your makeup wipes are in? And has his own toothbrush in your bathroom, not the guest bathroom? Has his own drawer in your dresser? Has his designated side of the bed? What other male friend touches you the way Lando does? Holds you? What other person in your life knew you as well as Lando? Who else did you have matching necklaces with? Your brain wouldn't stop with the questions, your body autopiloting the rest of your nighttime routine.

You felt Lando's arms sneak around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as the two of you made eye contact in the mirror. "Don't make me sleep alone tonight." He mumbled, before retreating to your bedroom. His words felt like ice in your veins and as you stood there staring back at yourself in the mirror you realized one thing.

You were fucked.

Thinking back to everytime one of your friends asking if Lando and you were together and you saying no, that there were no romantic feelings there now suddenly seemed like a big lie. Jesus christ, you guys were literally together, minus the kissing and sex, the two of you acted like you were in a relationship.

Did you have romantic feelings for Lando though?

The simple thought of 'i'm in love with my best friend' honestly had never crossed your mind. And thinking back to his past relationships there was never any jealousy coming from your side. So was all this that you were feeling tonight just a fluke? Maybe a side effect from the dry spell you've been having when it came to sex? But as you still stood there staring mindlessly at your reflection all the little pieces started to fit together.

You had said there were no feelings because your brain had blurred the lines between friendship and romantic feelings so much you couldn't tell the difference. Maybe it was your brain's way of protecting you, not letting you fully realize how you felt.

You had never gotten jealous or upset when Lando had gotten into relationships and it was because he still treated you like his number one even while seeing someone else. Looking back you had done the same in your past relationships. You remembered that the two of you had expressed vocally to each other that there must have been something wrong with them as to why they couldn't keep a partner for more than a couple months. And now you could see that you two were each others issue. Who wants to be in a relationship where the other person's heart already belongs to someone else?

How could you have been so blind? Because now the thought of 'i'm in love with my best friend' truly did cross your mind.

As you finally came back down to earth you realized you were going to have to face him as you exited the bathroom to get to the living room. The door had been open the whole time and you could hear a random sitcom playing softly on the TV. You didn't even want to look at him, afraid that one look would make you crawl in next to him. But as your feet moved from the cold tile to plush carpet your heart swelled at the sight in front of you.

Lando was already fast asleep on his side of the bed. Light snores emitting from him, his arm outstretched to your side, like he was waiting for you to climb into his arms (like you usually did). Your legs felt like cement pillars as you forced yourself out of your room. The urge to be wrapped up in his arms almost overpowering the sane part of you. You needed to be alone tonight, it was the smart thing to do. You had realized some big things about yourself and your relationship with Lando tonight and the level headed thing to do was to distance yourself until you had your head on completely straight.

That though, was easier said than done.

You were tired when you laid down on the couch, but yet almost two hours later you were still tossing and turning. Your mind being the main contributor as to why you were still up, Lando being the only thing on your mind. The uncomfortable couch didn't help either and you felt sorry for any your friends who had previously crashed on it. You tried to distract yourself, but scrolling on TikTok ended 30 minutes ago and you could only play so much Monopoly Go before you ran out of dice. A loud sigh escaped past your lips as the time on your phone read 3:00. If you would have just slept in your own bed you would have been in a deep sleep right now. But you were determined to not give in to your desires.

Ten minutes later your willpower gave out and you were walking down the hall towards your room. You slowly turned the door handle, not wanting to wake Lando. As you quietly closed the door, you couldn't help but shake your head at the fact that you were sneaking into your own room right now. It felt funny, like you were suddenly a teenager again.

Whatever had been playing on the TV had shut off and the glow of the screen saver was the only thing illuminating the room. Lando was still sound asleep, he was on his side now, and you were thankful that his back would be to you when you climbed into bed. Tip toeing to your side you carefully slid under the covers, the feeling of being in your own bed immediately relaxing you.

In a matter of seconds of you laying down Lando had flipped over, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him. For the first time in you think ever, you tensed at the feeling of being in his arms. It wasn't that you didn't want to be in his arms, it was that you did. It was that everything was different now. You weren't just wrapped in the embrace of your best friend. You were wrapped in the embrace of you best friend that you have unknowingly had romantic feelings towards for who knows how long.

The feeling of his thumb rubbing small circles where your shirt had slid up let you know he was awake, but you didn't instigate any conversation.

"Been waiting for ya." His sleep filled whisper tickled your neck, a shiver running down your spine.

Your hand traveled to his arm that had made its home around your waist, your hand covering his in a comforting way. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

Lando had pulled you closer to him, if that was even possible, your back flush against his front.

This was definitely something friends didn't do.

"It's okay. I couldn't sleep that well without you, kept waking up."

His words made your heart race, how have you just now realized that this relationship was not normal? Before you never batted an eyelash when he talked to you like that, but now he had you a blushing mess in his arms.

"What do you do when I'm not with you?" Your words were barely above a whisper.

"Take Nyquil." He deadpanned.

You craned your neck to look back at him, laughter lacing your words. "You're joking?!"

The light from the TV illuminated his face enough for you to see the sleepy smile on his face. "I'm not joking. I honestly think I might have built up a tolerance for it because it didn't work last week."

"Good lord Lan." You stated as you rested your head back on the pillow. "Maybe you should try Melatonin instead. Pretty sure it would be safer."

A simple hum was all you got in response and after a few moments of silence you thought he had fallen back asleep. His hand that had been tracing small circles on your skin had stilled and you took that as a sign for you to go to sleep too. Your eyes hadn't been closed for maybe ten seconds when he whispered something that made your eyes fly open.

"Wouldn't have to take anything to go to sleep if I just had you with me all the time."

Your body slowly turned towards him, your faces inches apart. It was time to face the music and talk about what you two were. Even though you had wished to work through it a little more on your own before talking to Lando. He was clearly testing the waters with you and what a better time to talk about how you were in love with your best friend than when you're in bed with them?

Words scrambled around in your brain, a thousand ways to go about this existed, but you couldn't get your brain and mouth to communicate. The two of you laid there, drowning in eachothers eyes, until you could finally put together a sentence.

"What's going on with us?" Lando only cocked an eyebrow at you, his eyes scanning your face to figure out where you were going with this. "Lan." You were wanting a response from him, not a confused look.

"What are you talking about?"

A sigh came tumbling past your lips, he was going to make you be the one to say it. "Lando. Do you think the way we act towards each other is normal? Like what other friends act the way we do with each other? The way you've been with me tonight is especially not how friends should act. Imagine how weird it would be if it was Fewtrell next to me right now instead of you." You paused, knowing what you were going to say next was going to change everything, and once you said it there was no going back. "We are more than friends Lando."

His mouth opened to say something and then immediately shut. He never thought this day would come. He had realized that things were more than platonic between you two months ago, and they had been the most agonizing couple months. Him knowing that he was in love with you, but too scared to say anything incase you didn't feel the same was driving him crazy. So, he pressed the envelope with his actions and words, hoping you would open your eyes.

His silence was slowly eating away at you. Had you just dreamt up all this stuff about you guys being more than friends? Had you misinterpreted his actions towards you and now made yourself look like a fool? "Please don't tell me this is one sided. God did I just fuc-"

Lando's lips on yours took you by surprise and it took a minute for your brain to catch up to be able to kiss him back. His lips were soft and it was a much different (better) feeling than whenever he had kissed your forehead or any other place that wasn't your lips (which again, how was that platonic?). His hand had traveled up towards your neck, his thumb resting on your cheek as he deepened the kiss. You felt light headed, never in a million years did you think you'd be kissing your best friend like this, but god did you love it. It was slightly embarrassing how you were already craving more as he pulled away, both of you with stupid smiles on your face.

"Yeah I don't think friends do that." He stated as he tried to catch his breath.

"No friends don't do that." The smile on your face still prominent as you stared at Lando.

His hand reached out for yours, your fingers interlocking causing the already prominent butterflies in your stomach to flutter even more. The two of you found your selves staring at each other once more, your eyes getting lost in the sea that was his eyes.

"Is this where we say we love each other?" Lando's words bringing you back to reality.

It wasn't uncommon for you guys to tell each other that you loved one another. In fact the last time those words were spoken was just a couple days ago. But now those three little words meant so much more, it was different now. Everything between the two of you was different now. Even if it didn't seem like that big of a deal it was, at least to you. Your teeth found the inside of your bottom lip as you plucked up the courage to say it.

"Everything is gonna be different now." Lando furrowed his eyebrows, head cocked in a questioning manner. His silence told you to continue speaking. "What I'm trying to say is yes I love you, but now those words mean so much more. We've crossed a line and there is no going back. It's gonna be different in public now, especially with your fans, and oh god we are never gonna hear the end of it from our friends. Do you think-"

Once again Lando had interrupted your rambling by smashing his lips onto yours. The action still taking you by surprise, but your reaction time had sped up significantly since the first time. This kiss was different from the first, it was more loving, slower even. It was like he was trying to calm you, reassure you about whatever you were worried about.

As he pulled away he laid flat on his back, his arms inviting you into them. With no obligation you scooted over to him, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around you. The feeling of him pressing chaste kisses to the top of your head made your eyes flutter shut, you wanted to savor this moment.

"I love you, like a lot, probably too much for my own good. And if I had to guess I would say when we've said it to each other before, deep down we knew how we really felt when we said it. So, I don't think it's any different now because how I feel about you right now is how I've felt about you the whole time. Granted it took me a little while to figure it out, but fuck Y/N. It's always been you. Always has and always will be."

You had never had someone talk about you like that and in the moment you were thankful that you weren't facing Lando or else he would see the tears welling up in your eyes.

"And everyone already thinks we are together, and my fans like you, but if you're worried about going public we don't have to, not until you're ready. I mean hell we can continue to act the way we usually do, but I'll just have to keep my lips off of you, which may be more difficult than I thought." A grin was plastered on his face as he peppered kisses all over your shoulder, giggles erupting from you at his actions.

"I know your fans like me, but to them I'm still just your best friend, I'm not with you. There is a big difference Lando. Also, it wouldn't hurt to keep it from our friends for awhile, maybe just a month or two. Do you really want to hear Max go on and on about how he was right? It will never end. We've deprived ourselves of each other for years. I just want to enjoy us, without everyone else putting their nose where it shouldn't belong.

"Alright then it's decdided."

You lifted your head from his chest. Leaning up towards him you pressed your lips against his. "I love you."

Lando returned the favor, your lips together once again. "I love you too."

Your head rested back on Lando's chest, his arms wrapped around you once more. A moment you could get used to having, the feeling of his lips though something you don't think you'll ever get used to.

"And you're right. I know Fewtrell has bets placed on us, we'd never hear the end of it." Lando's chest vibrated with laughter, and when he laughed so did you. And in that moment there was no better feeling than being in the arms of the man you loved, laughing.

So, from that moment on the two of you kept your relationship hidden. You still acted like before (two best friends who were basically together because they were secretly in love with one another). But kept your intimate moments behind closed doors.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Over the course of your relationship there were a couple times where you guys almost exposed the two of you. The first time was two months in, when a jealous Lando almost spilled the beans.

It was a race week, the Australian GP to be exact. It was the first race of the season that you were attending since the two of you had decided to keep your relationship a secret. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for you to be there during race weekends. Infact last season you had probably been to at least 75% of the races, so you were a well known face around the paddock and garage. But even with you being around people you knew and a familiar atmosphere, you were still slightly nervous as you walked through the paddock. This was going to be the first real test of seeing if you guys could keep your relationship under wraps. There were cameras literally every few feet, which meant no room for slip ups.

As you approached McLaren hospitality you spotted Lando outside the entrance talking to Carlos.

"Hello boys." You greeted as you approached them. Smiles beaming from both of them back at you. "Are you lost Carlos?" You joked with the Ferrari driver.

A smirk splayed across his face. "Ah just came over to see you hermosa." The Spaniard always was a flirt, especially with you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Lando tense at Carlos shamelessly flirting with you. "When are you gonna lose the papaya and come wear red?"

Rolling your eyes you couldn't help but let out a laugh at his antics, he truly had no shame in his game. "Behave Carlos."

Y/N may have found it funny, but Lando found nothing about this situation funny. And all he could do was stand here and let his ex teammate flirt with his girlfriend.

Before he got to be tortured anymore he was being whisked away to do an interview, but unfortunately for him he still had a clear view of the two of them as he sat down to do his interview.

He could barely focus on what the guy was asking him, his gaze flickering over the guys shoulder to watch you and Carlos every chance he got. He knew whatever Carlos was telling you was not that funny, there was no reason for you to be doubled over laughing.

The interviewer clearing his throat brought Lando's attention back to him. "Sorry could you repeat the question."

"Yes. I was asking after FP3 earlier how confident are you going into qualis in a few short hours?"

Lando gave some bullshit answer, his mind and gaze already wondering back to you and Carlos. His jealousy really starting to peak when Carlos put his hand on your arm as you laughed again at something he said. Lando knew you were just being friendly with Carlos and if anything his jealousy was just from the fact that he couldn't go out there and tell Carlos to fuck off and leave you alone. But when he saw Carlos' hands linger longer than they should have after a hug, the hints of red in his vision weren't from the Ferrari drivers fireproofs. God, how was he going to survive not letting every person in this place that you were his? The interview was thankfully a short one, which may have been due to his inability to focus.

He was handing off the microphone and out of the chair before they had probably stopped recording the interview. He could still see Carlos leaning against the railing outside, but you were long gone.

"Where'd Y/N go?" Lando inquired.

"Said she forgot her sunglasses in the garage earlier."

A simple nod came from Lando as he now joined Carlos in leaning against the railing. Silence had lulled between the two drivers and Lando was thankful that Carlos hadn't brought up Y/N, but seconds later he knew he had spoke too soon.

"You think she's into me?"

Lando nearly choked on his spit at the Spaniard's question. The bluntness of it took him by surprise, but the fact that Carlos really thought he had a chance with Y/N had Lando somewhat amused.

"I don't think so." Lando tried to use a normal voice, if he even knew what that was.

Carlos pushed himself off the railing. His whole body turning to face Lando, who maintained his gaze ahead, not wanting to look over at Sainz. "How do you know she's not?" What was Lando supposed to say? She's not into you because she's in love with me? He had froze up, allowing for Carlos to speak freely. "What are you in love with her or something? Not wanting to let me worm my way in?"

Lando's heartbeat quickened at the mention of him being in love with you. He racked his brain with how he could steer this conversation away from the two of you being together.

"No. She's got a boyfriend." Simple and effective he thought.

Lando still hadn't made eye contact with Carlos, but out of the corner of his eye he could see a smirk on Carlos' face. "Oh yeah who is it?"

So perhaps that wasn't the direction to steer the conversation. "I don't know."

"You're telling me your're her best friend and you don't know who she's dating?" What the hell did Lando get himself into? He had a way of always digging himself into a deeper hole when he talked, and in a situation like this he was really trying to chose his words carefully. But unfortunately for Lando, Carlos took his silence as an answer. "Well I'm taking that as you couldn't think of anyone to say. So when I ask her to dinner tonight, what would she like better? Italian? Chinese? Oh we are in Australia so what about some seafood? Sushi maybe?"

The two drivers now stood face to face as Lando's jealousy turned into irritation. "You're getting your hopes up Carlos. I told you she has a boyfriend."

"Until I have a name I don't believe you."

Lando knew he could just blurt out a random mechanics name from the team and that would pacify Carlos, but his smugness about the whole thing was just rubbing Lando the wrong way. Lando wanted to throw it in Carlos' face that you were his. Not some random guy or any other driver or mechanic's, you were his girlfriend. He knew you would be pissed about him blabbing to Carlos, exposing your relationship. In fact he would be breaking the promise that he made to you, but his judgment was clouded. And like always Lando's mouth worked faster than his brain.

"She's dating-"

"Sorry who's dating who?" Your eyes wide and heart racing as you approached the two drivers once more. You prayed Lando wasn't about ready to say what you thought he was as you stared him down.

Lando's cheeks turned scarlet as he stumbled over his words. He was thankful you showed up when you did to save him from making the mistake, but he also knew you weren't going to be happy.

"We were just talking about who you were dating." Carlos finally spoke up after watching Lando choke on every attempt at talking.

Your eyebrows raised in a fake suprisment at Lando, sarcasm dripping on every word you spoke. "Oh really?! I didn't know my love life was such a public topic? Who am I dating?"

Lando's eyes flashed back and forth between you and Carlos and as you stood there staring back at him he was already trying to telepathically apologize to you.

"He wouldn't say." Carlos stated as he glanced between Lando and you. The atmosphere was tense and he suddenly felt like he was in the middle of something he shouldn't be. He could find you later to talk, but right now he was trying to figure out how to excuse himself. "I think I'm late to an interview. I'll see you guys later."

As soon as Carlos was out of earshot you spoke, your tone hushed. "You better have a good explanation."

Lando glanced around, there were way too many people around for you two to be having this conversation here. Hell he probably shouldn't have even been talking to Carlos about you here earlier. If he would have told Carlos about the two of you, ten other people probably would have heard too. Grabbing your hand he led you through hospitality doors, down a small hallway, and then suddenly you were in what looked to be a storage room. McLaren merch was strewn about and various snacks and drinks lined the counters.

As you heard the lock on the door click you turned to see Lando leaning against it. No words were exchanged, you only raised your eyebrows at him, indicating for him to explain himself.

Lando pushed himself off the door, his hands reaching out for you to hold. When you only gave him a blank expression, he wiggled his fingers, emphasizing his want.

"Baby." The slight smile on his face didn't match the whiny questioning tone of his voice. Rolling your eyes at his dramatics you placed your hands in his, fingers intertwining as he pulled you closer to him. "I'm sorry. I let my jealousy get the better of me. I couldn't stand looking at Carlos shamelessly flirt with you. Then once you left he was talking to me about asking you out and he just wouldn't let up. It was driving me crazy, I just wanted to tell him to fuck off, that you were mine. And clearly I almost did until you walked up."

His eyes scanned your face for any indication that you weren't completely pissed off at him, but to his surprise your lips were on his. It was a quick kiss, his brain barely comprehending it was happening before you were pulling away, only making him desperate for more.

"I'm not mad, it just took me by surprise when I walked up and that was coming out of your mouth. I also knew he was flirting with me, why do you think I finally left? I could only play nice for so long, so I made up the excuse of me leaving my sunglasses in the garage." You paused, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. A small smile washed across Lando's face as he leaned into your touch. "Just please from now try and keep your jealousy in check? I've liked these past couple months with just us two, not us two and millions of other people. Plus, you have nothing to be jealous about. I love you. Not Carlos or Charles or-"

Lando's eyes widened. "Wait how many other drivers have been flirting with you?"

"It's not important. All I was trying to say is that I love you and only you!"

Lando scoffed, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you flush against him. "I love you too baby, but I'm gonna have to hide you or something. I don't think my heart can take seeing all these guys fawn over you."

Your hand reached up to his hair, your fingers running through his mop of curls. While his hands were placed firmly on your hips, his fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt. "You'll survive pretty boy."

"Oh so you think I'm pretty?" Lando teased as he leaned in to satisfy his desire to taste your lips after the tease of a kiss moments ago.

"Yes, but you're my pretty boy."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The second time your relationship was almost exposed was entirely your fault. Getting wasted + missing your boyfriend = blabbing to your friends.

To say perhaps you had been neglecting your friends since being with Lando was an understatement. Always denying their invites out because you were either working, going to a race, or saying you were working when really you were with Lando.

You had been trying to make plans for over a month with your friends, but it never seemed like anyone's schedule lined up, until this weekend. It was an off week for Lando and he had suggested that your friends and you have a girls weekend in Monaco, even saying you guys could stay at his apartment. Though, to you, a hotel sounded safer. You had way too much of your stuff at his place for it to seem like anything platonic.

So, here you guys were, getting ready in a hotel not even ten minutes away from Lando's apartment. Music playing in the background as you rummaged through your suitcase for the perfect outfit for tonight. Laughter erupting from everyone as you recalled funny memories from past nights out. It felt good to be with them again, you had missed this, missed them.

Work had been absolutely draining you these past couple weeks, deadlines and unread emails haunted your dreams. You had even been so busy that you had to miss Lando's race last week. It had been almost two weeks since you had even seen him. Facetime being your main form of communication as of recently. But tonight wasn't about Lando, it was about going out and having a good time with your friends. Although, someone should have told drunk you that.

You're all piling into an Uber before you know it, skirts and dresses slightly too short, but no one cared because that's the fun of it all. The conversation consists of who's going to get the most drunk and from the pregaming that took place back at the hotel it could be anyone. It then shifts to who might go home with someone tonight and of course because you've been 'single' the longest everyone says you need to be the one to. And of course you play along saying "Honestly I need to. It's been awhile since I've gotten any action."

Which wasn't a lie, you hadn't seen Lando in two weeks. Your work being primarily based in London and him being in another country for almost a week. Then this weekend being a girls weekend had provided less than enough time for you guys to even talk on the phone, let alone fool around.

"Well we are in Monaco. Let's pray our girl bags a hot millionaire." Your friend stated.

Already accomplished that.

The bass from the music rattles in your chest as you walk through the club with your friends in tow. The bar is of course the first stop, you open a tab and tell the girls to get what they want. You decide on a rum and coke, you weren't planning on going absolutely crazy tonight, but a couple of these plus the pregaming at the hotel would have you feeling happy tonight.

"Let's dance!" One of your friends shouts as she's already heading into the swarm of bodies.

You swayed your body to the beat, it felt good to finally let loose and have some fun. Your eyes closed as you got lost in the music, warmness radiating through you from the alcohol in your veins, but also the other dancing bodies around you.

As the night progressed so had your alcohol consumption. You honestly weren't planning on going this hard, but everything was just going down so smoothly and you were having such a good time. But you knew as your friend brought over everyone a double round of tequila shots you were done for. You were a big girl and you could have said no, but you were already so inebriated at that point the idea of saying no never crossed your mind. Only I'm gonna regret this in the morning as you said bottoms up.

Before you knew it you were wasted and as your friends tried to rally you so you all could leave you were proving to be a little more than difficult. It didn't help that your friends, although not as gone as you, were also clearly drunk. They had somehow managed to get you outside amidst your protests that the 'night was still young', at two in the morning.

You were trying to stand upright as you waited for your friend to get an Uber, but apparently to you the pavement looked more comfortable and down you went. Your knees and arms were scraped up, but you didn't feel anything, at all. You were practically floating at this point, one more shot and you would have been at black out level.

"Ok. Just sit on the curb. It's gonna be a minute for the Uber." Your least drunk friend said as she clamped a hand on your shoulder, preventing you from getting back up.

"Ugh. Just call my boyfriend he can come get us." In your drunken state you hadn't realized what you had said.

"Your boyfriend!? Who's your boyfriend?" You had the attention of all your friends now.

Pulling your phone out of your clutch you thanked the Apple Gods for face id because there was no way you could have put in your passcode. Getting to your recent calls was easier said than done and at one point you had accidently called your Mom. "Oops. Sorry Mom." You giggled. Your fingers and brain weren't working in sync so you resorted to Siri, which was not a good idea either.

"Siri call Lando."

Your friends necks nearly broke from how fast they turned them towards your phone.

"Sorry I didn't get that." Siri chimed off

"Siri call Lando Norris."

Failed.

"Siri call Laaanndoooo."

Failed again.

"Siri-"

"Ok enough. I'll just call him. Uber cancelled on me anyways." Your friend stated as she held her phone up to her ear. "Hey Lando. It's Y/F/N. Yeah sorry for calling so late. No everything's ok it's just that our Uber cancelled and Y/N mentioned something about you being able to come get us? If not it's fine- Oh ok great thanks. We are at the club with the big neon sign on the front. Yeah ok see you in a couple minutes."

"Who was that?" You asked as your friend hung up the phone.

She sat down next you on the curb, her arm wrapping around your shoulders, your head leaning to rest on her shoulder. "Lando. He's coming to get us."

Your eyes widened as your head perked up at the mention of his name. "Oh good. I've missed him!"

Your friends all exchanged questioning glances. Not sure if Lando was the boyfriend you had mentioned, if you were so drunk that you thought Lando was your boyfriend, or if they were so drunk that they had misinterpreted what you were saying. They all had always said that you two had to be together, that you had to have feelings for him, but in this drunken instance they weren't sure what to believe. The saying drunk words are sober thoughts worked in this situation, but they too were drunk, so who was the wiser?

As Lando pulled up to the club he could see you sitting on the curb with your friend, your other friends hovering behind you. Putting the car in park he got out and made his way across the street to you. He wasn't sure what state you were in, but from the scrapes on your knees, glossy eyes, and overly enthusiastic yelling when he approached he knew you weren't just tipsy.

"Lan!" You yelled when you saw him crossing the street. You tried to get up, but your legs gave out. Luckily for you Lando's arms were wrapped around you before you hit the pavement again. "Careful. Think you might've went a little too hard tonight huh?" His cologne invaded your senses, combine that with the hoodie and sweats he had on and all you wanted to do was be in his arms tonight. "Hi guys." He greeted your friends, who were all taking in the scene in front of them. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Lando and you to be close like this, but after what came tumbling out of your mouth earlier they were second guessing everything. "Come on let's get you guys back to the hotel."

Lando had to help you into the car and then buckle you in while your friends piled in the back seat. "I don't wanna go to the hotel I wanna go to yours." A pout planted firmly on your face.

Ignoring your plea Lando closed the passenger side door and walked back to the drivers side. The car wasn't even a couple minutes from the club and you had passed out, small snores coming from you.

"Are you guys together?" Your friend's question made Lando's heart skip a beat. His eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror, your friends eyes staring back at him made his heart race even more.

"No. Why?" He prayed his tone was normal and not one of a man keeping said relationship a secret.

"She pretty much said you were her boyfriend."

Fuck. He knew she was drunk, but not that drunk to blab about their relationship. He racked his brain on how to spin this around.

"Unfortunately I'm not." Maybe admitting to her friends that he wanted to be with her, but wasn't, might work?

"What do you mean unfortunately you're not? Is this you finally admitting to what we have all known already?" Another friend asked.

Lando glanced over to you in the passenger seat. Your head leaning against the window, hair frizzy, the smell of tequila radiating off of you. Even in your drunken mess he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. "Maybe. I'm just afraid I can't give her what she needs." His eyes flickered back to the rearview mirror, questioning looks stared back at him, encouraging him to continue. "I can't always be there 24/7 like a normal boyfriend. Yeah she can travel with me, but she has a life and a job too. I wouldn't want her to lose that aspect of herself just to be with me. I wouldn't want her to think that she came second in my life, because even now right now she doesn't."

What Lando had said was true, it was a insecurity, hell even a fear that he's had for quite some time. The idea of him not being enough for you scared him. The fact that maybe one day you would grow tired of the inconsistency and leave him made him sick. He tried to be the best boyfriend he could, but some days he was so busy that he was lucky to send you a couple texts. It was hard having a career that he loved be so much of his life, something that at this point was a literal part of him. But on the other hand, you were also a part of him. He never wanted you to feel like you came second in his life, because at the end of the day racing doesn't last forever, and he wanted you to be the one that was still there after he took his last lap.

"If that's all that is holding you back from telling her how you feel then you're stupid. How long have you guys been in each other's lives? She's used to your crazy schedule and half the time she makes it work and is with you. She may deny it every time we bring it up, but she's in love with you Lando. Don't let the one person who would literally go to hell and back for you slip away because you're afraid of what might happen."

As the car stopped in front of the hotel Lando turned back to look at your friend. "Clearly you didn't drink as much as Y/N."

"I'm being serious Lando. Tell her." A serious look plastered on her face as your two other friends had started to exit the vehicle. Lando had unbuckled your seatbelt, but you were too knocked out to notice. "Just take her back to your place, it's where she wanted to go anyways. But I swear when we meet up tomorrow and you two aren't together I'm gonna strangle you Norris!"

She had joined your other friends on the sidewalk as Lando rolled down your window to talk to her. "She's completely wasted. I'm not telling her tonight."

"Well then in the morning! Either way you better do it!" Your friend hollered before they all gave him a wave goodbye and made their way into the hotel.

With a sigh Lando rolled your window back up and reached over to buckle you back in. Stirring slightly, you turned in the seat as Lando's hands brushed over you. "We're going home baby girl."

Music played softly on the radio as he drove the winding streets back to his apartment. It seemed like the act had worked on your friends. That you two were still the stubborn lovesick fools to them and not two people hiding their relationship.

By the time Lando had parked the car back at his apartment you had woke up. Something he was grateful for because (though he would never say this outloud) you were an absolute pain to wake up sober, let alone drunk.

"Come on baby, we're home." Lando stood in front of the passenger side, hands out to help you out of the car. A groan came from you as you dramatically swung your legs out, grabbing ahold of Lando's hands he helped you out the rest of the way. With his arm securely around your waist the two of you made your way to the elevator. "My knees hurt." You whined as you walked (stumbled).

"Yeah it seems that you took a nasty tumble." Lando shuffled you into the elevator, pressing the button for his floor with his free hand. You glanced down at your knees, even with your blurry vision you could see the dried blood. "Your arms too. Gonna have to wrap you in bubble wrap next time you go out."

You slowly lifted your arms as you tried to focus your vision to get a good look at them. But it was the same as your knees all you could see was blurry dried blood. "Well shit." You sighed, head falling onto Lando's shoulder.

As soon as you got into the apartment Lando was already bent down in front of you. Your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your heels.

"Come on we've got to get you cleaned up." His arm was back around your waist as he led you towards the bathroom. As you sat on the toilet seat lid you waited patiently for Lando to grab the first aid kit. Sleep was creeping its way back in as you sat there, your eyelids feeling heavy. You hadn't even realized you had dozed off until the feeling of a warm washcloth on your knees woke you up. As Lando gently cleaned your knees and arms you watched him. Even in your drunken state you heart couldn't help but swell at him taking care of you. Once he had cleaned and bandaged your injuries he grabbed your makeup wipes from one of the drawers. Your eyes fluttering shut as he did his best to remove your makeup, giggling as he cursed your waterproof mascara.

"Ok time to wash your face."

You had tried to get up to go to the sink, but his large hands pushed you back down. "I don't need you falling again, just stay put."

So you sat there as he applied your face wash, making sure to get the remaining remnants of your makeup off. And as he was applying your moisturizer you couldn't help but stare at him with adorning eyes. You were so utterly in love with him it made you sick. This wasn't the first time he had taken care of you like this, but this was the first time since you'd realized you loved him. And in this moment his actions just simply meant so much more to you than they ever did back then.

"I love you." You said as he rubbed in the last little bit of moisturizer.

His eyes met yours as he looked down at you, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Love you too baby."

He helps you brush your teeth and then seconds later you're crawling into bed. "Nope. I love you, but you are not cuddling up to me tonight in that scratchy dress." He throws some of your pajamas at you as a groan came from you. "Come on dress off."

"Jeez at least take me out to dinner first Norris." You joked as you slowly got off the bed. A smirk toyed at his lips as he rolled his eyes at you. "Are you gonna unzip it for me or?" Lando wasted no time, his fingers pulling the tiny zipper down. As the fabric fell to the ground he placed a chaste kiss on your shoulder, a sign of affection rather than sexual desire.

Thankfully you were able to dress yourself as you were slowly sobering up. Climbing back into bed you were greeted with Lando who had already took his hoodie off and was waiting for you to crawl into his arms, an offer you gladly took.

"I've missed you. I've missed this." You stated as you got settled into his embrace.

A kiss was placed on your temple. "Me too."

You were asleep within minutes, Lando not long after. But when you awoke the next morning with a hangover from hell some things that had slipped your mind came to light as the sun rose. Like the fact that you were out with your friends last night, but had somehow ended up at Lando's.

When Lando woke up he explained everything to you, about how you blabbed and how he hopefully convinced them that you weren't together. That he was just a lovesick fool who wanted to be with you. "They are gonna be expecting us to be together or at least expect me to have confessed my love when we go to lunch later." He was leaned against the headboard, your head in his lap as he ran his fingers through your hair.

"Do you think they even remember?" You asked.

"They weren't as drunk as you, so most definitely."

You lifted your head up to look at him. "Well, just because they are expecting it doesn't mean it has to happen."

So when you guys went to lunch your friends heads perked up when they saw the two of you, hopeful glances shared between them.

"So any news to share from last night or recently?" One of your friends asks as you're browsing the menu. Thankfully the menu covered your face at the moment, because you were trying so hard not to laugh at her question.

You played along though, acting like it was a regular conversation starter. "If you consider me deciding to never go out again after last night news then sure. I've got a hangover from hell."

You weren't even looking, but you could sense your friends eyes darting towards Lando, and a slight jostle from under the table was undoubtedly one of your friends kicking Lando.

"Although, it's still considered brunch hours, maybe I'll get a mimosa. Always heard nothing like getting over a hangover by drinking more." Acting like the tension between Lando and your friends was nonexistent you continued talking. "What are you guys thinking? The turkey club sounds good."

Lando on the other hand was fighting for his life. Between the stares and his now sore shin, he was wishing he would have never came. His phone vibrated on the table and as he picked it up it was a text from one of your friends and it only said one word.

y/f/n: chicken!!!!

At least his cover up worked last night, now hopefully they could just make it through this lunch.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The third time, technically you both were to blame, but you both blamed each other.

The unrelenting sun beat down on Lando as he climbed out of the car after probably the worst FP3 of his career. Granted it was only a practice run, but if this was how the car was going to perform in the actual race then he was done for. Not to mention this was his home race, which any driver wants to perform well in. There was a heatwave at Silverstone this weekend, one of the contributing factors in his shit practice run. The others; absolutely no grip on the tires, sweltering temperatures in the cockpit, and the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about you. Specifically how you looked in the garage before he went out for FP3.

From the get-go this morning when you put on that papaya (let's be real it was orange) tank top that cupped your breasts just right he knew today was going to be a long day. Then when he saw you in the garage the only thing he could think about was taking you back to his drivers room and fucking you till you couldn't walk. The slight sheen of sweat on your skin from the boiling sun gave you a glowing look, that goddamn tank top, and your hair tied up in a ponytail had basically given him a semi. But it was something he could mark off his "insane things to happen while in a race car" list.

1. have a hard on while driving.

As he walked into the garage he was thankful his race suit was slightly baggy in the groin area. When his race engineer started to go over data and possible strategy everything went in one ear and out the other, his mind preoccupied with only down right nasty thoughts about you. His grip on the table that he leaned on getting tighter with each passing moment. He didn't dare glance in your direction, afraid that his slight issue would turn into a full blown one.

You on the other hand were oblivious to how Lando was feeling at the moment. You thought the strained look on his face was from the heat and the not so great practice, not from him wanting to bend you over the first chance he could get. You hadn't even realized Lando was done talking to Will, too engrossed in your phone, until you felt Lando's grip on your arm.

His eyes were like saucers as you looked up at him. His tone was demanding yet he spoke softly to you as he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Come on."

Not one to oblige, you quickly following behind him to where you soon realized was to his drivers room. You figured he wanted to rant or just relax for a little bit before qualifying, but oh boy were you proven wrong as soon as Lando closed the door.

"You've been driving me fucking crazy all day." The almost animalistic tone of his voice went straight through you. His eyes dark as he made his way over to you, hands harshly gripping your waist. Your words were caught in your throat as you stood there, wide eyes staring back at Lando. "Oh don't act like you didn't wear that tank top on purpose. You knew the way it makes your tits look would drive me crazy."

His fingertips traced along the low neckline of your tank top, his touch causing a shiver to run up your spine. A smirk developed on his face as his fingertips traveled up the straps, your neck, and finally landing on your ponytail. His long slender fingers wrapped around it, and you knew what he was about to do, but that still didn't stop the moan that came barreling out of you when he tugged on your ponytail.

"You little slut you liked that didn't you?" Now it was your turn to smirk at him, a small laugh even escaped past your lips, which you knew would go straight through him. "You think this is funny huh? Think I should teach you a lesson."

In an instant his lips are on yours. It's messy and rushed, teeth clashing as he's guiding you towards his physio table. When the back of your legs hit the table he wastes no time in lifting you up onto it. His hands are already tugging at your tank top as he stands between your legs. You break apart just long enough to let him basically rip your shirt off and then his lips are back on yours. His hands had migrated from your hips to your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples with his fingertips. The stimulation going straight to your core as he swallowed your moans.

Grabbing at his fireproofs you tried to pull him as close as possible to you. You could already feel how wet you were getting, your desire for him growing more by the minute. As he's attacking your neck you reach down and undo the button of your shorts and somehow shimmy them off while still sitting.

"That desperate for me huh? Undressing yourself?" He whispered in your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

"Only for you." You words breathy as he soothes the spot on your collarbone that will need to be covered in the morning.

Almost like a natural reflex your hips start rolling towards Lando, impatience setting in. All you want is for him to touch you and clearly he got the signal. His hand moved down to your clothed core, fingertips ghosting along it.

Whines emitting from you as you rocked your hips towards his hand. "Lan please."

"You gotta tell me what you want baby girl." His pupils blown as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"I want you to fuck me with your fingers." He felt his already painfully hard cock twitch at your words. No matter how many times you guys fucked, he was always surprised at how filthy your mouth was.

And as the natural born pleaser that he was, he pushed your panties to the side and immediately ran his fingers through your drenched folds. "Fuck baby your soaked."

You leaned back on the table to give him better access and as he slipped the first two fingers in your head fell back. Your moans echoing through the room as his fingers slide in an out of you.

"You gotta be quiet." He says as he adds a third finger.

His thumb works your clit and as his fingers curl up and find that spot that makes you see stars your biting down on his shoulder to try and keep quiet. You can feel yourself getting close, that pit in your stomach growing as those long fingers of his somehow repeatedly hit your g-spot. Lando can tell your close just from the way your breathing.

"Come on baby. Gonna be a good girl and come all over my fingers?"

His words of praise only adding to the the pleasure you were feeling right now. And Lando couldn't help but let out a chuckle at your walls clenching around his fingers as he praised you. Seconds later your coming undone, moans muffled by Lando's shoulder as your orgasm washes over you. His fingers continue to work even through your orgasm, something he always did. Always teetering on the line of overstimulation with you.

But this time he doesn't eventually let up, he's got you pushed all the way back on the table with your legs wide open. His free hand has you basically pinned to the table as he's relentlessly pumping his fingers into you, thumb still circling that small bundle of nerves. Your squirming under him, legs shaking as he teases you with his hushed words.

"Awe can my baby not take it? You want me to stop?"

You can barely think straight, every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire. The sound of his fingers in your wet cunt is borderline sinful. He's got a devilish grin on his face as he starts to slow his fingers, and you remember you didn't answer his question. The pitiful 'don't stop' that you're able get out is sufficient enough for Lando and he goes back to that same toe curling pace.

Lando knows your coming before you do, he knows your body like the back of his hand. The way your walls clench around his fingers and how your breathing gets rigid tells him you're on the edge. With one final curl of his fingers your back is arching as your hands grip the sides of the table. You were sure that you were speaking in tongues, the pleasure so intense you don't even realize how loud your being until Lando's got his hand clamped over your mouth. Eyes wide as he's shushing you, but he's removed his fingers from your cunt and decided to solely focus on your clit, and you think you might die if he tries to give you three orgasms back to back like that.

Lando can feel his cock throbbing in his race suit as he looks at how wrecked he's got you with just his fingers. He knows he can give you another orgasm without even using his cock, he knows you can take it, but his desire to be buried so deep into your pussy that you can feel him in your stomach overrides his pleaser mentality.

He lets you squirm for a few more moments before taking his hand away. His fingers immediately entering his mouth as he licks them clean. You watch him through hooded eyes, chest heaving as you’re trying to come down from your back to back orgasms. The desire for his mouth to be attached to your throbbing clit growing as you watch him. You knew you were being greedy, but you also knew he’d do it if you asked him. The man loved nothing more than being between your thighs. Always thinking that if he died while eating your pussy at least he’d die doing something he loved. And you thought you’d be getting your wish until he’s tugging his race suit down the rest of the way, fireproofs following after.

His cock slaps against his stomach as soon as it's free and you truly don't think you'll ever get used to just how thick it is. Your pussy already fluttering at the thought of him stretching you out. His hands are grabbing at your ankles, pulling you towards the edge of the table. And you don't realize just how much of a mess you had made on it until your ass is basically gliding over the table. Your lips collide for a brief moment as you resume your previous position of sitting on the edge of the table. His tongue exploring your mouth as your hand reaches down to his cock. The simple action of your thumb running over his tip had him moaning into your mouth, his hips bucking towards your hand.

In one swift motion he's got you bent over the table and you're practically dripping with anticipation. Lando's got one hand gripping your waist and his painfully hard cock in the other. The small moan that you let out just by him rubbing his tip between your folds is like music to his ears. Usually he would tease you, but he'd been thinking about this exact moment all damn day, he wasn't going to waste any time teasing. You're both trying to be quiet, but the feeling of just him pushing the tip in has both of you gasping. The feeling of him stretching you out is one of your favorite things in the world. How you can feel every inch of him, feel the vein on the underneath side of his cock, the slight curve in it that always hits your g-spot, it was like a drug that you couldn't get enough of.

By the time he's bottomed out and gotten you nice and accustomed to him he's ready to be absolutely feral. He leans down to your ear, his hands roaming your body as he speaks. "You gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna take my cock like the good little slut you are?" All you can do is whimper in response, but that's all he needs to hear. His large hands are on your waist in an instant and he slowly starts to build up his pace.

He can't help but be mesmerized by how your pussy engulfs his cock as he fucks you. He gets lost in it, his brain (and cock) pussy drunk, and soon enough he's ramming into you so hard that the table is hitting the wall. You're trying so hard to stifle your moans, but he's fucking you like he hates you and you can't get enough of it. You're sure someone has heard you, and if not with your moans then they've got to hear the physio table banging against the wall. And you know this is the moment that is gonna expose your relationship, but you don't even care because he's fucking you so good right now.

When Lando reaches up and grabs your now very messy ponytail and yanks on it at the same time as him hitting your g-spot you couldn't even try to hold in your moan. That in turn got a reaction out of Lando. "You've gotta be quiet pretty girl. You don't want someone to walk in now do you?" He's still got ahold of your ponytail and he lifts your head slightly as he speaks to you. "But I bet you'd probably like that huh? You'd like for everyone to hear how good I'm making you feel. How you're taking my cock so well. Bet you'd even like if someone walked in on us wouldn't you my little slut?" His words made your walls clench around him, which earned a 'fuck' from him.

That familiar feeling in your stomach had started to appear and after the two orgasms earlier you knew you couldn't hold it off for very long. If it wasn't for the table beneath you, your legs would have given out a long time ago.

"Lan I'm close." You were barely able to get that out. You were so fucked out you could barely keep your eyes open, let alone speak.

Lando was close himself, his pace slightly faltering. "I know baby. I'm almost there."

Your toes are curling as your trying to hold it together, but you're beyond overstimulated at this point, it doesn't help that he's reached down and started to rub circles on your clit. Your brain is practically scrambled, the pleasure becoming almost painful, tears start to form in your eyes.

"Lan-" Is all you can squeak out before your third orgasm for the night comes washing over you. Your body damn near convulses on the table as your vision goes white. Lando has to put an arm under you to keep you up right, your body so overstimulated it had given out.

"Oh my god!" You couldn't keep it together, because yet again he was fucking you through your orgasm.

You don't even hear the knock on the door or the person on the other side speak until you hear Lando shout. "I'm fine mate!"

"You sick fuck I know what you're doing!"

A familiar Australian accent filled your ears.

"Go away Oscar." Lando yells as he's still pounding into you, tears steadily streaming down your cheeks.

"I'm looking for Y/N. Have you seen her? She has my sunglasses."

Fuck. You had forgotten about him asking you to hold onto them. And if you remembered correctly you had them on your shirt, the same shirt that Lando practically ripped off of you. You both glanced down at the floor to see Oscar's sunglasses next to your shirt. Oops.

"She's probably in hospitality. Now leave."

You don't know if Oscar responded or if he had even left because the feeling of Lando finally coming undone had spurred on your fourth and final orgasm. Silent screams came from you, your throat raw, your body exhausted. You had never experienced this much pleasure in your life. If you had to describe it in one word you would have to say euphoric.

Lando's hips had finally came to a stop, sweat dripping off him as he tried to catch his breath. If he said this was the best sex of his life he would not be lying. You were both so fucked out, you much more than him, the idea of the fast approaching qualifying on neither of your minds. He stayed inside you for quite some time as his hands caressed your body, especially the spots that he know would be bruised in the morning. Sweet nothings were whispered in your ear, he knew this was a lot for you, but he was so proud of you for taking it so well and he wanted you to know that.

When he finally pulled out the sight of his cum dripping out of you was damn near pornographic. A image that would definitely be apart of his future wet dreams, but when he heard a whimper come from you he was brought back to reality. "I know baby. I'm right here." He's got you in his arms in an instant and a gentle kiss pressed to your lips.

He's got you both cleaned up as best as he can and got you wrapped back up in his arms as quickly as he can. He thinks maybe he shouldn't have gone this hard here, should have done this at home where he could have ran you a bath or something more loving, but his worries dissipate when you speak up.

"There is no way Oscar didn't know I was in here. So I guess if this is how we let everyone know about us. At least it was enjoyable."

Lando laughs a little at her optimism. "We've always somehow made it through our mishaps unscathed. So I'm sure we will this time."

And somehow by what you two would consider a miracle you do. Oscar never mentions anything to the two of you about that day and neither does anyone else. In all reality you knew Oscar probably knew and everyone else in a mile radius, but they just kept it to themselves. Probably figuring it was too awkward to bring up, but whatever the reason you were thankful and somehow incredibly lucky.

But from that day forward you couldn't step foot in Lando's driver room without thinking of the events that took place on that hot July day at Silverstone.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By the time summer break had arrived the both of you were very much surprised that your relationship was still private. Looking back at all your mishaps and slips of the tongue, it was a miracle the whole world didn't know by now. The two of you had recently discussed the idea of launching your relationship, but you were honestly content with how things had been.

So, you decided to let it happen organically. You guys would continue to have a private relationship, but if there was a slip of the tongue you two wouldn't try to back peddle and save your asses. The both of you agreeing that it was going to happen sooner or later, so it was better to just accept what the universe had wanted to happen so many times before. Although, you just didn't think that it was going to happen the way it did.

How would an F1 driver spend a Friday night while on his summer break? Going out? On vacation? Going out while on vacation? All wrong if you are Lando Norris.

On a beautiful Friday night in August you were sat between Lando and Max on a stream, reading through the chat as they talked about something undoubtedly dumb.

One comment caught your eye, you laughed as you read it aloud. "When I show up to a yapping contest but Lando and Max are my opponents."

Their conversation halted, both of them faking offence. "Don't let Y/N fool you guys. She's the biggest yapper out of us three." Lando stated.

"I am not!"

All three of you now in a yapping contest, each person trying to defend themselves. A moment that will surely be clipped and used as a reaction video on Twitter before the stream is over.

Though the conversation quickly moved on as you guys tried to decide what to do. Max had promised it wouldn't just be a sit and chat stream, yet that is all you guys had done for the past thirty minutes. "Ok chat, let us know what you want us to do. We are at your mercy on this Friday night." You stated, eyes scanning the screen as people's ideas started to pour in.

user1: play f124!

user2: cinnamon challenge lmao

That one caught your eye, laughter lacing your words. "Cinnamon challenge? What is this 2012?"

user3: take funny quizzes

user4: mukbang!!!!

user5: yes mukbang!! we need a repeat of the famous 2022 mukbang stream.

You chuckled at the mention of the previous mukbang the three of you did. It was one of Max's most viewed streams, which you never understood why. All you guys did was stuff your face and attempt some very bad ASMR. But people still used clips from it to this day on Twitter. Nonetheless, you were always down for a good feast, your mind already running through what you should get.

Raising your eyebrows you glanced back and forth between Max and Lando. "Mukbang?"

Lando and Max's eyes lit up at your propsition. "Let's do it."

"Ok chat. Mukbang 2024 will commence shortly." You stated as Max pulled out his phone to see what sounded good. You leaned over to look as he scrolled through the options. When your favorite Sushi place popped up he immediately stopped scrolling, your eyes meeting in a knowing glance. No words were spoken as you both shook your heads yes. You both knew Lando would be pissed, but you didn't care. You hadn't had it in so long, your mouth was practically watering at the thought of it.

"Ok. We are getting sushi." You didn't even look in Lando's direction as you spoke, you could just imagine the disgusted look on his face.

"Ugh. No!" His complaint fell on deaf ears as Max and you were already placing your order. "Guys please why don't we do pizza or something?"

"Two against one mate. You want your usual spring rolls?" Max glanced up from his phone, eyebrow raised in question towards Lando.

And like a child Lando leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed and a pout on his face. "I guess." No matter how hard he tried to like fish, he just couldn't stomach it. In fact, he had tried it multiple times since you had been in his life, thinking if the women he loved liked fish then maybe he could learn to like it. But each time he was running for the toilet seconds later.

"Should be a good stream guys, it'll just be Lando freaking out the whole time." You teased, gently nudging his side with your elbow. An eye roll was all you got from him. "Oh come on you know I love you."

You could see the downturned corners of his mouth start to slowly turn upward as he tried to fight the smile that was wanting to break free. A slight blush had formed on his cheeks as the smile you loved so dearly spread across his face. You two, even before getting together, always told one another you loved them. So it was truly no big deal, you had done it in public, it wasn't a foreign concept. But for some reason the chat was going ballistic over it tonight.

user1: "friends" my ass

user2: try not to smile like an idiot when your "best friend" tells you they love you challenge. level impossible for lando

user3: i too would be a smiling blushing mess if Y/N told me she loved me

user4: max is third wheeling tonight i see.

You just laughed and shook your head. At least people were being nice and it seemed like they liked the idea of the two of you being together.

While you waited for the food to arrive you three answered some questions and chatted about random things, even recalling some funny memories between the three of you. Just as you were in the middle of a funny story that involved Lando and two birds there was a knock on the door.

Seconds later there was an array of takeout containers in front of you, mouth watering as you wasted no time in digging in. Lando on the other hand sat there with his spring rolls, trying to ignore the pieces of raw fish that were inches away from him.

"You wanna try? I got a California roll for you just incase you were feeling adventurous." You asked Lando, a piece tucked between your chopsticks as you held it up towards him. Furiously shaking his head no, he stuffed his mouth with a bite of spring roll. "It's like a starter roll for sushi newbies, can't even tell that there is crab in it. I promise."

"I can tell believe me. Remember when you had me try crab rangoons?" Yes, you did remember it because he was gagging after the first bite.

"Fine. More for me and Max." You popped the piece of sushi into your mouth, accepting that he was never going to like seafood or anything seafood adjacent.

As Lando watched you eat a piece that had a huge thing of raw fish on top his face twisted in disgust. At the same time you glanced over at him, wanting to ask him how his spring rolls were. But the words that came out of his mouth first erased any thought about spring rolls.

"Just so you know I am not kissing you for at least 24 hours."

Lando hadn't even realized he had said that out loud until Max started choking on his piece of sushi. The realization of what he had just said and what he had just done came washing over him. His cheeks turning crimson as he made eye contact with your wide eyes, the same crimson color painted across your cheeks.

"I'm sorry. Why would you be kissing Y/N?" Max's cheeks were red too, but his was from choking, not exposing his relationship on stream.

Lando and you having not broken eye contact simply shrugged at one another, remembering your conversation about no back peddling, no trying to save your asses anymore. So if the universe wanted your relationship to be public over Lando being grossed out over sushi, then so be it.

The both of you looked over at Max, sheepish grins plastered across your faces. "Surprise!" You said meekly.

Max's eyes flickered back and forth between his two friends, trying to figure out if this was some prank or if what he had suspected for years had finally come true. Lando's hand reaching out for yours under the table caught his gaze and in that moment Max knew it was true. "I knew it! I fucking knew it! Finally, I mean I was about ready to set you two down and force you to be together." Max had jumped up from his seat, excitement overtaking him. "How long?"

"Around seven months." Lando mumbled.

Max's eyes widened a shocked look on his face. "You've kept it from everyone for seven months?"

Lando muted the stream as you and him explained everything to Max, still wanting to keep some things private. Knowing surely Max's reactions to what you guys were telling him would be haunting him for years to come.

Meanwhile the chat was going insane.

user1: holy shit!!

user2: i mean are we surprised. they've been married in my head for years.

user3: 2022 mukbang found dead. 2024 mukbang you will always be famous

user4: the fact they even kept it a secret from their friends... guess that works when you've acted like you were together for years..

user5: need me a love like lando and y/n

user6: the way this is such a y/n and lando way for them to expose their relationship lmfao.

user7: wait... so this means y/n is off the market? lando norris can you fight?

You would have never thought this is how you would announce that you guys were together. But somehow it made sense for the two of you in your own weird way. One thing you did know was that the chat was right. 2024 mukbang stream will always be famous.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"We need to talk about yesterday Lan."

"Yeah I guess we do."

You removed your head from his chest, choosing to sit up and face him. "It's just that last night was a little crazy and then," your eyes glanced over to the trail of clothes on the floor "it got even crazier when we got home. We never actually discussed how we feel about us being public now."

Lando's hands reached out for yours, fingers interlacing. "Well let me just say I'm sorry for having a brain and mouth that don't communicate sometimes. But I don't regret saying it. Like we have discussed, clearly it was meant to happen in that moment, even as unserious as it was. Yes, some things are gonna be different, people are gonna pry and feel entitled to our business, but that doesn't change how I feel about you. I love you and honestly I'm glad I can hold your hand in public now." He pulled your smiling face closer to his, a matching grin plastered on his. "And if I feel like it, I'll kiss you in public too!"

He smashed his lips onto yours as you laughed into the kiss. His hands started to roam your body and before it could go any further you pulled away. "As long as I've got you by my side I think everything will be alright." Your hand caressed his face, his stubble tickling your hand. "I love you so much, never forget that Norris."

"I won't."

Later that day the two of you decided to both make a post on Instagram to officially announce your relationship, with the most unserious captions.

y/insta: finally got my kiss ♡ (after i brushed my teeth)

landonorris: i love you ♡ (but not your love for sushi)

[miakat9]

call me your fool — oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader [1.7k] summary: he's pretty good at making your legs shake, but he's even better at taking care of you in the aftermath. warnings: 18+ implied smut & explicit language, aftercare and fluffy banter a/n: wrote this initially as a blurb, but it took on a life of its own and I just kept expanding on it until I got this. thank you for all the love lately, it means the world to me!! please don’t hesitate to leave feedback <3

It feels like your breath has been stolen from you, sucking in air through your mouth because simply breathing through your nose isn’t enough. The ache in your lungs remind you of when you go for those intensive runs with your boyfriend, where your ten kilometre jogging makes you tap out as your side cramps, whining until he eventually leads you to the nearest shop to treat you for an ice cold drink.

The sweat on your skin lays like a film, clammy and warm and it takes a while for you to blink the spots away from your eyes. It takes even longer to turn your head where it lays on the pillow, finding brown eyes staring back at you with a smile dripping with so much amusement that you would’ve laughed if you had the strength to.

“You alright?” Oscar asks, like he hadn’t just rocked your world and simultaneously turned it upside down fifty times over.

There’s a lot to be said with the way your legs are shaking, splayed out in front of you on the bed. He eyes them up appreciatively before reaching for the covers to cover your lower half as best as he could. It makes your chest expand with adoration for him, a smile playing on your lips when he scoots closer to you.

“It feels like I’ve ran a marathon.” You reply after a beat, throat dry as you swallow. “Your stamina is on a whole new level right now.”

It makes him laugh when your eyes widen in amazement, reaching a hand up to smooth your hair away from your face. He watches your skin pebble at the touch of his hand, trailing a finger up the side of your throat to your jaw.

“The perks of being a formula one driver, I guess.” He says it so modestly that you laugh, your warm huff of breath hitting his finger when he thumbs your lower lip lovingly.

You accept the kiss when he bends to give it to you, a little chapped from the previous activities but you lick into his mouth like you’re starved. It makes Oscar’s stomach turn, how needy you always are for him. It makes him feel good. Great. Like he can conquer anything if he has you by his side.

He can’t help but trail his unoccupied hand up to grasp your throat, hearing you whine and feeling you swallow against the palm of his hand. You press into his hold, almost urging him silently to put pressure on it but Oscar knows that you’ve reached your limit for tonight, you’re way too sensitive and he’d hate to cross the line even though you’re asking for it so prettily. But he can’t resist his hand travelling down your sternum, feeling the pudge of your stomach and the way it dips when you suck it in, in anticipation. Like you’re waiting for him to touch your centre and bring you to the fifth high of the night.

He stops right over your bellybutton, smiling against your lips when you stop kissing him to glare. Your faces are too close and it makes the both of you go almost cross eyed. Oscar pulls back a little to get a better look at you, breath hitching in his throat at the way your eyelashes frame your eyes so prettily; How kissable your mouth looks. You look well and truly fucked, and Oscar’s chest inflates in pride because he did that.

“You’ve really missed me, huh?” He bites his bottom lip to keep the smug smile at bay, and you roll your eyes even though your mouth is twitching with a held back smile.

You act like you hadn’t missed him, but you really had. Granted, you’d only been away from each other for two weeks but they had felt like years. There was only so much video calling and texting you could do before you grew tired and sad, wishing that the distance between the two of you could lessen and you could touch.

Oscar knows how much you had missed him, not only because you’d voiced it out loud, but because he’d missed you just as much; If not more. That’s mainly why he’d skipped the dinner with the team in Singapore in favour of locking the both of you in his hotel room, determined to make the most of this night before the race sucked every ounce of energy from his body.

“Only one part of you.” You grinned as you palmed the top of his thigh, watching him squirm at your touch as you got dangerously close to where he was sensitive and spent.

He needed at least half an hour to recuperate, but there was no stopping the slight twitch in his groin when your thumb nudged him.

“You’re a shit liar.” He leaned his head down far enough to bite your shoulder, making you squeal with laughter. He always loved how ticklish you were.

“You’re a shit boyfriend.” You said with no heat behind it, the smile on your face defeated the purpose of it. “You’re supposed to be carrying me to the bathroom and draw me a bath. Where’s my bottle of water and the tiramisu you promised me, Piastri?”

Oscar’s smile grew wider the longer you rambled, watching you silently. He loved when you got into these moods, playful and teasing after sex. Especially when he’d wrung you dry of orgasms and could get his fill of you by looking at you, letting you playfully jab at him when just moments ago, you were begging for him to be nice to you. To let you come.

“You’re not allowed to leave this bed.” He said lastly and your eyebrows shot up in amusement.

“Oh really?” You sat up in bed and stared him down. “What if I starve to death?”

“Then you’ll just have to resort to cannibalism and eat me. I hear it’s a trend these days.” He offered and you stifled a giggle.

“That’s a generous offer, I’ll take it.” You said with a nod, scrambling to swipe away the covers so you could swing one leg over to straddle him.

Oscar’s hands immediately found your hips, placing them there as you palmed his chest for support. You almost got lost in his beauty, how he managed to look as gorgeous as he did beneath you. The pink of his cheeks and the redness of his lips, it was all too breathtaking.

“Now, where to start?” You posed the question to yourself, bending down and making a show of inspecting his body. Like you didn’t know every inch of it already.

Oscar suppressed laughter as you hummed.

“This looks like a good place.” You said, touching his collarbone. “But this does too.”

His breath hitched in his throat when your fingers stroked the delicate skin of his throat, right over his pulse. It jumped in excitement under your fingers, and you must’ve felt it but he didn’t have time to analyse your face before you bent down completely to mouth at his neck.

The way you licked and sucked was way too aggressive not to leave marks, but his nerves sang with pleasure and excitement because a big part of him wanted you to mark him up. It would make things more fun when the both of you arrived at the paddock tomorrow, and he’d surely go for a shirt that did fuck all to cover it.

Oscar stroked his hands up your naked back, mouth falling open in wordless pleasure as you found his sweet spot; Right under the lobe of his ear.

You were so into it, his heavy breathing in your ear and the taste of his sweat on your tongue that you barely noticed when one hand left your body. What you did react to was when his palm made contact with your asscheek, a resounding sound echoing in the room and you jumped at the contact.

Oscar was grinning when you sat up, eyes wide and mouth gaping in shock and he didn’t dare to blink as he gripped a handful of flesh in his palm; Watching your eyelids flutter in pleasure.

“No funny business.” He warned you and you opened your eyes to pout at him. “Don’t give me that look. I’m fucking spent and you are getting in the bathtub.”

“Aren’t you getting in with me?” You frowned sadly, finding one of his hands to grab.

He pulled it closer to his mouth and separated each finger to kiss the tips of them. The little loving gesture made your stomach tighten.

“I’ve got some room service to order, don’t I?” He smiled. “You wanted that tiramisu, no?”

You gave him a slow smile as you slid off his body, swinging both your legs over the edge of the bed and Oscar took a moment to stare at you. His eyes flitted from head to toe and you squirmed a little under his attention when he sucked his lips into his mouth; Like he was holding back on saying something.

He didn't have to say it though, everything was showing in his eyes and the flush that was creeping up his neck and blossoming gorgeously over his cheeks.

"I think I want a different kind of dessert." You said, stretching a hand out and wiggling your fingers dramatically.

It made your boyfriend smile, and eventually grab your hand so you could pull each other up. It was a struggle and your legs were still shaking like your legs were bambi on ice, which was a little embarrassing. Oscar placed both hands on your naked hips in silent support, guiding the both of you into the vast bathroom of the hotel room.

"What am I gonna do with you?" He asked the question in your ear, voice low enough to send shivers down your spine as you craned your neck to peer up at him over your shoulder. "So insatiable."

The grin that you were working to keep off your face finally broke out, and Oscar leaned his head down to press a kiss to it.

"With you? Always."