#op81 mcl

[cemeterygrace]

i made a meme thank u for listening to my unhinged ramblings @ghastguy77

[lillakaterina]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Claire Young (@button_rose99)

Latest painting of Oscar Piastri finished #oscarpiastri #op81#piastri #mclaren #f1 #formula1 #formulaone #art #artist #artoftheday #arty #artistoninstagram #painting #acrylicpainting #myart #myartwork

[menagerofmischief]

Spill Your Guts (OP81)

summary: after revealing what she listens to in order to wind down, y/n ends up with an invite from her favorite podcast host to appear in the next episode

driver!reader x podcast host!oscar piastri -> habs incoming... series masterlist

cw: not fia approved words, reader teasing lando (they're besties), kissing, fluff, bad flirting, oscar being bullied by hattie

wc: 2.9k

a/n: this one is written + smau, with a bit of different formatting for the podcast episode. this one was fun to write, I hope y'all will like it and show it some love.

-> TAKE 1

“Hi,” you said, flashing a smile to the camera. “I’m Y/n L/n!”

“And I’m Lando Norris,” your teammate, sitting in a chair next to you in the video set up, said while waving his hand. “And we’re McTeammates!”

“Lando,” you said, shaking your head as you turned to look at him. “We talked about this. We drive for McLaren, we’re teammates but,” you lifted a finger up, pointing it at him. “We’re not, McTeammates.”

He rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at you. “Whatever you say, McGrumpy!”

“That’s it!” You said, pushing your chair away from the table and standing up. “I’m taking away your Gray’s Anatomy privileges.”

“You can’t do that, you bitch!”

“Try me, you little termite!”

-> TAKE 2

“Hi,” you smiled, lifting your hand up to wave at the camera. “I’m Y/n L/n.”

“Why do you always start?” Lando complained. “Like why isn’t my name first, I’ve been here longer.”

“Because I’m the lead in the championship and your nickname is last lap Lando.”

“That’s so fucking mean, you muppet!” He sobbed, wiping the corner of his eye to add to the dramatic effect. “What’s wrong with you - you know I’m sensitive about that.”

You sighed, putting your hand on his back and rubbing along his spine in a comforting manner. “I’m sorry, Lando, I didn’t mean it.” You said, putting your fingers into his locks and ruffling his hair. “We can do your name first, and you can start the video. How does that sound?”

He looked up at you, eyes shining with excitement, the previous dramatics instantly gone as he started nodding his head. “Deal! No take backsies!”

-> TAKE 3

“Hi!” Lando said, his voice full of enthusiasm as he waved at the same with a big grin. “I’m Lando Norris.”

“And I’m Y/n L/n!” You said, smiling at the came and praying this take was going to work out because if you had to start this video over one more time you were going to strangle your teammate.

“Today we’re answering your questions. which you had the chance to send us on Instagram and we put them in this bowl.” Lando explained, holding up the said bowl full of folded papers.

You pushed your hand into the bowl, running your fingers over the papers before grabbing one and pulling it out. You unfolded the paper, looking down at the printed words. “What is Lando afraid of?” You read the question, laughing a little. “Fish!”

“Hey!” He interrupted, snatching the paper from your hands. “It’s my question I’m supposed to answer!” He looked down at the paper, humming while nodding his head. “I’m also afraid of the dark.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from making a comment, wanting badly to tease him about saying he was afraid of the dark. 

Satisfied with his reply, Lando threw the paper away and dug into the bowl for the next one. He unfolded the paper, clearing his throat dramatically before reading out the question. “What does Y/n L/n listen to, to wind down?” His eyes snapped up, looking into yours. “Uh, I know this one!”

“I don’t care,” you replied, snatching the paper from his hands. “It’s my question.” You told him, returning his previous words back to him, which made him pout. “To wind down, especially after a race I listen to a podcast hosted by some Aussie guy named Oscar. The podcast is called Spill Your Guts, it has no specific theme and the host is a funny guy. Plus, he sounds cute.”

“I could have answered that!” Lando said, poking your arm with his finger. “I knew your answer word for word.”

“I’m sure you did Lando,” you said, nodding your head at him. “Now why don’t you pull out the next question?”

It’s a few days later, the video already long gone from your mind, when you walk into your driver’s room after a practice and flop directly onto the couch as soon as your helmet and balaclava are off, letting your body mold into the cushions after the exhausting practice.

You grab your phone and open it, eyes focusing on the new massage you had gotten while you were in the car. Your expression is confused as your eyes swipe over the number, not recognizing whose it is.

You enter the chat and after a brief moment of hesitation, you reply.

Your hands are shaking as you try your best to shove your phone into your pocket before jumping up, a scream tearing from your throat before you’re running to Lando’s driver’s room.

“Lando!” You yell, grabbing the door handle and pushing his doors open without knocking. He stops dead in his tracks and turns around to face you.

Lando holds both hands up, his mouth full of a chocolate doughnut that is half sticking out. He quickly grabs the part that’s sticking out and pulls it out of his mouth, swallowing the rest as fast as he can. “Don’t tell my trainer, please!”

Your eyes slide over to the half a doughnut in his hands and you shake your head at him. “I don’t care about that,” you tell him. “You’ll never believe what happened!”

“Max Verstappen got a 100 points penalty and you secured the championship?” He offers, deciding to finish his doughnut while he has a chance. 

“No, I don’t think that’s possible,” you tell him. “But it would be great! What was I saying? Oh, yes!” You clap your hand before putting them on his shoulders and shaking him. “Oscar Piastri invited me to star in an episode?”

“Who?” He asks, his voice muffled by the treat in his mouth.

“The Spill Your Guts, guy!”

“You got invited to Spill Your Guts!?” Lando asks, swallowing the doughnut before looking at you with a smile. “You’re going to be on an episode of your favorite podcast?”

“Yes!” You laughed, smiling at him.

“How?”

You grabbed Lando’s hand and moved him over to the couch, flopping down into a comfortable position, you patted the spot next to you, signaling for your teammate to sit down. Once he did, you cracked your fingers and locked your eyes with his. “Okay, so…” and then started explaining.

OSCAR: Hello everyone! Welcome to tonight's episode of Spill Your Guts. Tonight’s guest is definitely the most famous person I’ve ever had sitting opposite of me if you don’t count my sister, with her 120k TikTok followers. Anyways, it’s my pleasure to welcome Y/n L/n to the studio!

Y/N: Hi, Oscar! And hello to everyone who’s listening in tonight. The pleasure is all mine really - I’m honestly so excited to be here. Just ask Lando, I’m pretty sure he’s gone deaf from all my screaming.

OSCAR: [laugh] Okay Y/n, settle in and fasten your seat-belt, we’re starting.

Y/N: I’m ready!

OSCAR: I’m sure you’ve been asked this many times but what’s it like being a Formula 1 driver?

Y/N: Thrilling. Every race week is a new adventure and the sport is really competitive so you’re constantly trying to prove yourself and set new records. There’s really no time to slow down.

OSCAR: I’ll be honest, it sounds a bit exhausting. Now, if you were a driver what would you be?

Y/N: Maybe a doctor [sigh] I’ve always been interested in medicine but racing is my life. But yeah, if I wasn’t a racer I’d probably want to pursue a career in medicine.

OSCAR: [hum] I can see it. You’d look good in scrubs. [both laugh] What’s your favorite Grand Prix?

Y/N: Two words Oscar - Las Vegas!

OSCAR: That’s a night race, yeah? Seem fun. Are you ready for some rapid fire questions now?

Y/N: Go right ahead, pretty boy.

OSCAR: [nervous laugh] Okay then, ready steady go! Wet or dry?

Y/N: Wet.

OSCAR: Monza or Monaco?

Y/N: Monza!

OSCAR: Blondes or brunettes?

Y/N: Brunettes [laugh] Australian ones preferably.

OSCAR: [very loud laugh] How cold are the ice baths?

Y/N: Very fucking cold.

OSCAR: Vettel or Alonso?

Y/N: None of them - Rosberg. Catch the reference. 

OSCAR: I did! Catch the reference, that’s it. I watched that video to come up with questions.

Y/N: Oh, is the next question bums of boobs then? Because bums for sure.

OSCAR: That was not a question but thank you for answering it either way. Let me take a quick peek at the chat. boy4norizz wants to know who’s your favorite F1 teammate?

Y/N: [loud laugh] Oh God, Lando I’m gonna kill you! So, the only answer I can give you is Lando, because he’s the only teammate I’ve had in F1. But if I had another, it would definitely be them.

OSCAR: Cats or dogs?

Y/N: I like both but if I had to pick - dogs. I’ve got a dog actually, a goldie. His name’s Apollo.

OSCAR: I love goldies!

Y/N: You should come meet mine sometimes. 

OSCAR: I might take you up on that. Now, last I checked you are the current lead in the championship, right? How does that feel?

Y/N: Still feels a bit unreal, if I’m being honest. Obviously every driver dreams about winning the WDC, and obviously only half of the season is done so I don’t want to be getting ahead of myself with the talk, but to actually be in the lead and have such a big chance to win it feels amazing.

OSCAR: I hope you do win it.

Y/N: Oh! [small pause] Does that mean you’ll be cheering on me?

OSCAR: Absolutely! You mentioned half of the season being done so that means summer break is approaching right?

Y/N: Yes, summer break starts after the next race.

OSCAR: Got any plans for the break?

Y/N: Depends. Are you free?

[few moments of silence and then both start laughing]

OSCAR: [catching his breath] Alright, thank you everyone for tuning in - and thank you to Y/n, for joining us. Enjoy the rest of your night.

liked by yourusername, landonorris, mclaren, hattiepiastri and 12,864 more

oscarpiastri: Another thank you to F1 star, Y/n L/n for joining us in tonight's episode of Spill Your Guts. And thank you for bringing the merch! Go stream the episode if you missed it!

tagged: yourusername

comments:

user01: call me crazy but they have so much chemistry

user423: you're not crazy girl, I literally felt like I was intruding userr: same! and her inviting him to meet her dog!! if they don't date I'll kms

ynsmclaren2: 'do you have plans' 'depends, are you free' WELCOME BACK SEBASTIAN VETTEL

user3: no because I literally screamed when I heard that userss: preach sister. they sound so good together I need them to date

yourusername: it was an amazing experience, 10/10 host would come back

oscarpiastri: dibs on getting the first interview when you win your championship? yoursername: deal user33: oh they're down bad

hattiepiastri: you're embarrassing me, you have her number use it

oscarpiastri: I'm telling mom you're mean to me hattiepiastri: do it no balls, she likes me more user454: I live for hattie bullying oscar

You look into the mirror one more time, raising your hands up to smooth down your hair for God knows what time that night. You push yourself forward, practically leaning over the desk so your face is directly in front of the mirror and run your finger over the edge of your bottom lip, making sure corners of your lipstick aren’t smudged. 

“Stop that!” Lando says, picking up a makeup brush from the bed and throwing it at you. It’s times like these that make you wonder why you agreed to go on vacation with him. “You look great! I’m sure the pastry boy’s jaw is gonna dislocate from how hard it’s going to drop when he sees you.”

“That’s … definitely a mental image.” You reply, picking up the brush from the floor and throwing it back at him. “I’m nervous,” you admit, picking on the bits of skin next to your nails.

Lando gets up from the bed and approaches you. He smiles and lifts a hand up to pat your shoulder before deciding to pull in for a quick hug. “There’s no need to be.You’re a catch and if he screws us it’s his loss.”

You bite your lip, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you think it over. “Yeah, you’re right. Come on, I’m gonna be late.”

After pushing Lando out of your room you grab your purse and exit the room. The elevator ride down to the lobby feels like a small eternity, your stomach tied in knots by the time you finally step out in the lobby.

You make your way outside, a lump in your throat as you look around the busy street. Your eyes finally meet his and it’s like time slows down. He’s leaning against his car, dressed casually in pants and a T-Shirt, and holding a small bouquet of flowers.

You smile as you approach him and he mirrors your smile with his own. “These are for you,” he says, offering you the bouquet. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you reply, taking the flowers from him, your fingers brushing against his. “And you don’t look bad yourself.”

He laughs in response, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile. He grabs the car door handle and opens the door, gesturing at it with his free arm. “Shall we?”

You can help but laugh, nodding your head you get into the car and he closes the door, going around the car and sitting in the driver's seat. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling back into the seat and pulling on your seat-belt.

“A little restaurant I used to go to with my parents and sisters when I was younger,” he tells you, starting the car. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

f1wagupdates: new WAG in the paddock?

current championship lead and famous mclaren driver Y/n L/n, was spotted having an intimate dinner with Oscar Piastri, podcast host of Spill Your Guts, which L/n starred on and mentioned it being her favorite podcast.

after the episode she appeared in fans noted the flirting between L/n and Piastri. are the two finally together?

comments:

ynsmclaren2: I'm very happy for them but why don't we give them some privacy instead of photographing them going out to dinner

user332: hell yeah! my otp is real

user441: they look so cute together, I ship it

oscarpiastri: the term WAG stands for wives and girlfriends and is used for partners of athletes mostly because they are straight men dating women. the appropriate term to use in this situation is HAB because that stands for husbands and boyfriends and is therefore the same things as a WAG but for the other gender

oscarpiastri: if you're gonna gossip at least do it right user77: he ate I fear user667: f1wagsupdates you've been real quiet since this comment

oscarpiastri: #HABandproud

user11: please I love him user334: mclaren's media team is gonna have a field day user102: protect him from pr training at all costs

tap to load more comments...

“Stop biting your nails, it’s disgusting” Hattie said, slapping Oscar’s hand away from his mouth.

Oscar tore his attention off from the screen to glare at his sister before returning it to the screen once more. This was it, Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

You and Max were tied in the points and this was not only the final race of the season but also the race that determined who would win the championship. Of course he was biting his nails, he was nervous.

“And to think mom said you’d never get a girlfriend sitting in a studio and hosting a podcast.” Hattie said, bringing a glass of water up to her lips and drinking from it.

“Why are you even here?” Oscar asked his sister.

“Your girlfriend invited me,” Hattie replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “She likes me more than you.”

Oscar was about to reply but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a gasp as he completely focused on what was playing out. He felt Hattie grab his hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“Verstappen is attempting a rather risky overtake on L/n, can she defend?” He heard the voice of the commentator ring out through the speakers. The whole crowd seemed to silence down as they watched the battle for first place, for the championship.

“Last lap, they can both see the checkered flag but who will cross it first?” Oscar held his breath. “Verstappen going wide … but L/n leaves no space! She moves fast, she moves fast and SHE CROSSES THE FINISH LINE!”

Oscar winced as Hattie screamed into his ear, both of them hugging each other before running down with the rest of the team to greet you when you got out of the car.

You pulled yourself out from the car, your heart practically in your throat, vision blurry with tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. You pulled your helmet and balaclava off, each searching the crows until they landed on Oscar who was smiling at you.

Without as much as a second thought you ran up to him, throwing your arms around him and kissing him. He kissed you back, full of passion, and his arms stroked your back.

When you finally pulled away he had the biggest smile on his face, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek. “So, about that championship win interview?”

You laughed, leaning your cheek into his hand. “It’s a date.”

tag list:

p1 @formula1-motogpfan @misty-inferno @thelemonque3n @marvel-hotchner @strangemaximoff

p2 @folkloresreputation @pippyth3hippy @adharacamdridge @theseerbetweenus @sebastianstansblog

p3 @tellybearryyyy @six-call @grussellsprout @oikarma @justcharlotte

p4 @annimausi @kodeelynn @schniti-is-in-the-house @cinnvmonrolls @cmleitora

[f1archives]

Oscar Piastri in the paddock after qualifying is postponed - Brazil, 2024 (📷 Kym Illman)

[mrsfancyferrari]

Mistletoe Magic

Summary: OP81 + “What are you doing with that mistletoe– oh.”

Song: All I Want for Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 8.8k

You’ve liked Oscar for a while now—longer than you probably want to admit. Maybe it started as a silly crush, like the kind you read about in romance novels where the protagonist can’t help but blush at the mere sight of her crush. But this was different.

Oscar wasn’t just a flicker of attraction; he was a spark that ignited every time he entered the room.

Everyone around you seemed to sense it, from your friends to his teammates. You’ve witnessed plenty of sideways glances over the months, most of them playful nudges and knowing whispers, but they fell on deaf ears.

The one person who mattered—the one you were enamored with—had no clue.

With a frustrated sigh, you called Lando one evening. Your heart raced as you paced your apartment, the soft hum of your phone ringing soothingly in your ear.

“Lando, I can’t take it anymore,” you ranted as soon as he picked up.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice, probably because he could already sense your exasperation.

“It’s Oscar! I don’t know if he hates me or something!”

“Hate is a strong word,” he laughed, and you could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“It sure feels like it. He can’t even look at me, let alone speak to me! Every time I try to approach him, he finds some excuse to leave!”

Lando kept his tone light. “Okay, give me the details. You’re saying the guy is terrified of you?”

“It’s not funny!” You found yourself arguing, but even you had to stifle a chuckle. Lando was right; it just sounded ridiculous. “He’s not scared. He’s just… I don’t know, awkward. And the way he follows me on social media—not that I mind, but…”

“But? You’d rather he didn’t like your posts? Is that how you feel? Because I think he’s into you.”

“But he never talks to me! He just flicks and swipes through my photos like a ghost!” You dropped to the couch, running a hand through your hair. “What does it mean?”

Lando paused for a moment. “Maybe he’s just shy? You’re not exactly a wallflower, you know. You’re dazzling. He might feel intimidated.”

“Intimidated? By me?” You leaned back, disbelief etched across your face, but Lando’s sincerity hung in the air, urging you to consider it.

“I mean it,” Lando insisted. “Just imagine yourself in his shoes, surrounded by all his friends. He probably thinks you’re out of his league, and his social media habits? Maybe he’s trying to muster up the courage to say something. When was the last time you actually had a conversation?”

You furrowed your brow, the memories coming back like scenes from a vague film. “I think the last time we really talked was at that charity event a couple of months ago. We barely spoke for five minutes, and then he vanished.”

“Then you need a plan. A real plan. You can’t let him sweep away like that.” Lando’s voice dripped with assurance, as if he believed everything you felt was not only valid but fixable.

“What do you suggest? Should I just somehow trap him in a corner of a party?”

“Not exactly how I’d phrase it, but yeah, kinda,” Lando chuckled. “You’ve got to make your move, even if that means grabbing him right after practice or before the next race.”

The idea spiraled through your mind, one that filled you with both hope and anxiety. The next race was only a few days away. You had to do something.

The streets of Baku were alive with energy, an intoxicating mix of adrenaline and excitement that filled the air as the Grand Prix weekend unfolded.

You stood just outside the McLaren garage, your heart racing not from the prospect of the upcoming F1 race, but from being in the same space as the drivers you idolized—especially the charming Oscar Piastri.

“Hey, are you sure you’re ready for this?” Lola smirked, her eyes sparkling with teasing mischief. “I mean, with the way you look at Oscar, we might need to tie you down.”

“Shut up!” you laughed, swatting her arm, but inside, you felt a flutter of nerves. How could you even think about talking to him when your heart did backflips every time you laid eyes on his curly hair and boyish grin? “He doesn’t even know I exist.”

Aaliyah chimed in, her voice playful yet conspiratorial, “Or maybe he’s just shy! Guys act like that when they like someone, you know?”

“Please, you’re giving me false hope,” you sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “That’s the last thing I need today with the race and everything else going on.”

The paddock was bustling with activity. Mechanics darted between cars, engineers discussed strategies, and the sound of laughter mixed with the roar of engines.

“Let’s go inside,” Lola urged, pushing you toward the McLaren garage.

As you walked in, the familiar vibrant colors of the McLaren team enveloped you. There, surrounded by the scent of burnt rubber and the hum of teamwork, stood Oscar, deeply engaged in a conversation with the engineers, his focus absolute.

You mustered every ounce of courage, but just as you stepped closer, your gaze accidentally caught his. Time seemed to freeze.

For seven whole seconds, you locked eyes, and there was an undeniable spark, or perhaps you were imagining it, because just as quickly, he turned his head away, his cheeks crimson.

“See? What did I tell you?” you whispered to your friends, who were equally giddy with excitement.

“He totally likes you!” Lola teased, grinning from ear to ear while giving you a playful elbow to the ribs.

“Guys, he doesn’t want to talk to me. Trust me,” you replied, trying to sound unfazed, but it was difficult given the flutter in your chest.

“Did you see that? He totally likes you!” Lola declared with a gleeful bounce. “He looked at you like you were the only person in the room!”

“It’s not what you think,” you replied, trying to sound unfazed, but your heart was pounding in your chest. “He probably just didn’t expect me to be here.”

“Stop!” Lola said, feigning outrage. “You can’t keep denying this. You’ve been crushing on him for what, a year? Just go over there and talk to him!”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the knot in your stomach tightened. “It’s not that easy! He’s way out of my league.”

“Pfft. As if!” Lola tossed her hair dramatically. “You are amazing! If he can’t see that, then he’s the one missing out.”

Before you could muster another protest, the tide of the crowd shifted, and Lando walked over. “Hey Y/N,” he said, breaking into a warm smile. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

“Uh, sure…” you stammered, glancing back at Lola and Aayila, who were both wiggling their eyebrows in a way that was both comical and slightly alarming.

“Okay, just stay around here and do not go over to him,” you warned your friends and with a playful roll of your eyes, you followed him through the throng of people.

As you walked away, you didn’t see how Oscar’s gaze remained fixed on you, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his deep brown eyes.

Lando led you to a quieter corner of the venue, away from the pulsing crowd. “I just wanted to make sure you’re having a good time,” he said, leaning against the wall casually. “I know these events can be overwhelming.”

“Yeah, I’m good, just a bit… you know,” you mumbled, trying to shake off the embarrassment of being away from your friends. You took a deep breath, gesturing broadly with your hands.

“The music is great, and the atmosphere is amazing. I just—” you hesitated. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just nervous about being around all these people? You know it's a completely different atmosphere.”

Lando nodded knowingly. “I get that. If it helps, I’m here if you need a distraction from all the noise.”

Just as he said that, Lola's voice cut through the chatter like a knife.

“Y/N! Come back!” She was waving frantically, her other arm pointing toward Oscar, who was now staring directly at you.

Your stomach dropped. Lando caught your eye, his expression shifting from concern to amusement. “Looks like you have an admirer,” he said, nudging you playfully.

“Don’t even! He’s probably curious about why I’m speaking to you,” you quickly denied, cheeks flushing.

“Are you sure? Because it looks like he wants to speak to you instead of me,” Lando teased, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat on your cheeks didn’t fade. “Stop it. Oscar’s just being polite.”

“Polite? Y/N, that look he’s giving you is way more than polite,” he chuckled.

Despite yourself, you risked another glance at Oscar. He was still looking in your direction, a small smile creeping across his lips.

What was even more annoying was how attractive he looked in that moment, leaning against the wall, confidently engaging with a couple of people.

“Okay, maybe he isn’t just being polite,” you conceded, trying to feign indifference.

Lando leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What’s the deal with you two, anyway? I thought he 'hated' you.”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual. “He does hate me maybe just not today.” But even as you said it, the truth felt slanted. There was something more that bubbled underneath the surface, something you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

“Right,” Lando said, raising an eyebrow. “All I see are two people who clearly have some unresolved tension,” he smirked, clearly enjoying the fact that he could tease you.

Before you could reply, there was an announcement over the loudspeakers instructing all drivers to head to their garages and prepare for the race.

“See you later?” Lando asked, giving you a easy smile.

“Of course! Good luck, Lando,” you said, genuinely wishing him well. You knew how hard he trained and how much this race meant to him.

As he walked away, your attention shifted to Oscar, who was a few spaces down, adjusting his helmet strap. When he caught your eye, he hesitated for a moment, those familiar warm brown eyes locking onto yours.

He looked almost bashful as he realized you were watching him. “Good luck, Oscar!” you called out, trying to sound casual, though your heart raced.

His face broke into a magnificent grin, cheeks reddening slightly. “Thanks, Y/N!” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of excitement and appreciation.

He glanced down, fiddling with his gear as he turned to head into the garage.

You watched him disappear behind the metal doors, an inexplicable thrill coursing through you.

It was silly, was it not? Your hope had doubled just from this interaction but you knew it meant nothing in Oscar's eyes. . .

The adrenaline still buzzed in the air as the final laps of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix raced through everyone’s minds. The street circuit glimmered under the twilight sun as Oscar Piastri, the newly crowned champion of the day, burst from his car, his helmet clutched under his arm.

The roar of the crowd echoed off the old buildings surrounding the circuit, celebrating the victory that had become so hard-earned.

You had watched the entire race with bated breath, your heart pounding with each corner he navigated, each overtake he executed. You couldn’t believe it—Oscar had done it.

The memory of his previous win played faintly in your mind, but it didn't compare to this moment. This was the race where it felt like he had truly battled every inch of the track and his competitors for the victory.

“Are you guys going to come?” you asked, as you stood up, barely able to contain your excitement. Your fingertips tingled with anticipation.

“Nah, we’ll watch the celebrations from here. Go congratulate your boyfriend,” Aaliyah teased, her eyes sparkling as she nudged you playfully.

You felt a rush of warmth spread across your cheeks at the mention of the word “boyfriend.”

“We’re not dating, Aaliyah! It’s… it’s complicated!” you stammered, your excitement mingling with nerves.

“Complicated, huh?” she continued, her smirk undeniable. “You should probably clear that up once you get down there.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. It was more complicated than Aaliyah could imagine.

Today, watching him work so incredibly hard and finally claim that victory felt like a turning point that ignited a fire in you.

“Right,” you said, gathering courage and taking a deep breath. “I’ll be right back!”

With that, you made your way to the pit lane where his team was erupting in cheers, everyone surrounding Oscar as they hoisted him high above their heads.

The sight made your heart swell—he was a champion, and he was thriving.

When you reached the edge of the celebration, you watched him for a moment, his laughter ringing out bright and infectious. He had that light in his eyes, a rare spark that shone brightly after the stress of the race.

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to interrupt the joyful chaos surrounding him.

Your moment of hesitation was abruptly interrupted when you felt a gentle tap on your arm. Turning, you found Tom, Oscar's race engineer, standing there with a warm, inviting smile.

"Y/N, should I bring you closer to Oscar?" he asked politely, as though he could sense your internal struggle.

You weren't quite sure how he even knew your name. You'd never formally introduced yourself, nor had you visited the paddock often enough for recognition. But amidst the whirlwind of happiness, you pushed your curiosity aside.

"Yes, please," you responded, the anticipation racing through you. Your heart pounded at the thought of actually getting to congratulate Oscar in person.

Tom nodded, leading you through the throngs of people, laughter, and cheerful chaos. The closer you got, the more your nerves fluttered. What would you say?

“Congratulations” felt too simple for what you wanted to express—too small for the monumental achievement he had just secured.

As you stepped closer, you could see Oscar surrounded by a group of teammates and a few friends.

“Oscar!” Tom called, breaking into the cheers. Oscar turned, and his face lit up even more when he spotted you.

“Y/N!” Oscar exclaimed, a hint of surprise in his voice. The way he said your name, like it was a sweet melody, made your heart skip.

You took a step closer, fueled by an impulse you weren’t sure would be welcomed.

“Congratulations, Oscar!” you said, and in an uncharacteristic burst of spontaneity, you pulled him into a hug. The warmth of his body enveloped you, and for a moment, the world around you faded.

It was weird to hug him—Oscar was not the type of person who hugged a lot. He was usually the stoic, strong type, but today was different.

You felt his arms wrap tentatively around you, and you almost pulled away out of embarrassment, but the thrill of the moment kept you there.

“Wow, I didn’t expect a hug,” he chuckled, his breath warm against your hair. “I mean, thank you! It means a lot coming from you.”

You released him slowly, feeling your cheeks heat up. "You were amazing out there. I could hardly believe it when you scored that final goal! The crowd went wild!"

His eyes sparkled with genuine happiness. “It was a team effort, honestly. But…” he paused, looking into your eyes, “I’m glad you were here to see it.”

In that moment, the world around you faded, the roaring crowd and chaotic celebrations dulled to a soft echo as his words hung suspended between you.

The emotions in his voice and eyes overflowed, washing over you like a wave, and it affected you more than you wanted to admit. You could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks; it felt like a stage light had been trained on you alone.

“I…,” you began, swallowing hard. “I need some air.”

The last thing you wanted was to break down under the weight of your feelings in front of everyone.

You patted his chest gently, though your touch lingered, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “Go celebrate with the team; you deserve it. I’ll be around later,” you managed to say, your voice a mix of encouragement and self-preservation.

Letting go of him felt like releasing a balloon into the sky, and as you stepped back, you couldn’t shake the weight of what had just transpired.

He hesitated, searching your face for something—reassurance, clarity, whatever it was, he didn’t find it. But he nodded, albeit reluctantly, and turned to join his teammates.

You watched as he melded back into the celebration, his laughter ringing out above the rest.

The moment he turned away, you felt an overwhelming storm of emotions.

You had never had someone like Oscar reciprocate your feelings, and that scared you. The crush you had nurtured for so long was starting to sprout, but the uncertainty about what that might mean felt suffocating.

You wandered toward a quieter corner of the stadium, trying to catch your breath. Leaning against a cool metal railing, you watched the team celebrate, the glint of victory sparkling in their eyes.

Everyone was so happy, so carefree. You could hear Oscar’s laughter clearly, a sound that made your chest constrict with a mixture of joy and fear.

Why was this so complicated?

The bustling atmosphere around the racetrack was electric, but finding McLaren's hospitality room amidst the chaos of the after-race frenzy proved to be a little more challenging than expected.

A couple of minutes passed as you navigated through the throngs of jubilant fans and team members, your pulse quickening with each wave of color and sound, when you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder.

You turned sharply to see Lola, her blonde curls bouncing with enthusiasm, eyes bright with excitement.

“Hey! We’re going to the club to celebrate Oscar’s win later. You coming?” she asked, her voice almost melodic over the murmur of the crowd.

You hesitated, wringing your hands nervously as a wave of uncertainty washed over you. “Um, I’m not sure…” You couldn’t shake the thought of retreating to your safe, quiet apartment instead.

“Oh, come on! It won’t be the same without you,” Lola urged, her eyes wide with sincerity. “Oscar was asking where you went. He really wants you there!”

There it was again—the familiar tightness in your chest that accompanied thoughts of Oscar. The way he had smiled when he had crossed the finish line, the joy that radiated from him like an aura. “Really? He said that?”

“Of course!” Lola replied, rolling her eyes playfully. “You’re his lucky charm. He’ll be bummed if you miss out.”

You bit your lip, weighing your options. It would be so easy to slip away, return to that quiet corner of your life where things felt safe and uncomplicated. But was that truly what you wanted?

The thought of Oscar’s disappointment tugged at your heart, igniting a flicker of bravery deep within.

“All right, I’ll go,” you finally said, your voice steadier than you felt.

Lola beamed at you, the corners of her mouth curving with delight as she spun around. “Yay! I’ll meet you in a bit then! You have to look fabulous, so hurry!”

With that, she bounced off into the crowd, leaving you standing there, a rush of excitement and anxiety swirling within you. You had just enough time to get to your apartment, so you hurriedly made your way back to your place, thoughts racing.

The moment you stepped inside, you knew you had to pick the perfect outfit. 

The air in the apartment felt charged with anticipation as you rummaged through your closet, trying to piece together the perfect outfit.

After a long week filled with monotony, tonight was a chance to step out of your comfort zone. You settled on a sleek black club dress, the kind that hugged your figure in all the right places. The fabric shimmered subtly under the light, giving you an air of elegance while the plunging neckline added just a hint of daring.

You paired it with your favorite strappy heels that always made you feel like you were walking on clouds.

With a final glance in the mirror, you felt the tiniest bit of confidence swell within you. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different. You pushed a few errant strands of hair behind your ear, took a deep breath, and stepped out the door.

As you made your way through the bustling city streets, the energy around you buzzed with life, the neon lights of the club flickering in the distance.

When you finally arrived, you could feel the beat of the bass thumping in your chest. The air was thick with excitement, laughter mingling with the rhythmic pulse of the music.

You spotted Lola right away. She was a whirlwind of energy, chatting animatedly with a few friends, her laughter cutting through the noise like a beacon. You pushed through the crowd, your heart racing not just from the music but the thought of seeing Oscar.

As soon as Lola saw you, her eyes lit up like a thousand fireworks, and she waved her arms as if she were a traffic conductor guiding you through the chaos.

“There she is!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling over with excitement.

“Lola! You look amazing!” you replied, enveloping her in a hug.

“Thanks! But look at you in that dress! Wow! You’re going to turn some heads tonight.” She stepped back, her eyes sweeping over your outfit with awe. “Are you ready for a night of fun?”

“Let’s hope so! Just promise to help me if I start to fade into the background,” you laughed nervously.

Loka grinned. “You will not fade. Just follow my lead!”

You two made your way deeper into the club, where the lights spun like stars and bodies moved in a kaleidoscope of color.

The pulsating bass of the club thrummed through your chest as you and Lola maneuvered deeper into the throng of bodies. Lights twinkled overhead, cutting through the smoky air like stars scattered across a midnight sky, and everywhere you looked, people danced with abandon, swaying to the rhythm of the music.

You felt the energy of the crowd washing over you, but in the back of your mind, you couldn't shake off the nervousness that settled there.

“Apparently Oscar’s coming later,” Lola said, her voice a melody lifted above the noise as she twirled, her skirt flaring out around her.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name, though thinking of him made your stomach churn; the last time you saw him, your feelings had bubbled over in an awkward, embarrassing moment.

You’d pushed him away, confused and overwhelmed, leaving him staring after you with a look you couldn’t decipher—a blend of disappointment and surprise.

“I can’t wait to see him! I just… I should probably apologize today,” you replied, trying to sound lighthearted, but your voice betrayed the nerves knotting tight in your belly.

Lola chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just don’t trip over your words. That would be classic you!”

You shot her a playful glare. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

A few minutes later, the music faded slightly as the DJ called for attention. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he boomed through the speakers, “We have a special guest in the house tonight—the winner of the race! Give it up for Oscar Piastri!”

The club erupted into cheers, and your heart raced as you turned to face the entrance. The door swung open, revealing Oscar, flanked by Lando and Max, both radiant with victory and excitement. The crowd surged toward them, voices rising in a joyous cacophony.

“There he is!” Lola shouted over the music, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of the moment. “Go on! Go say hi!”

But as you tried to get closer, a wall of fans obscured the pathway, blocking you from reaching him. You clenched your fists in frustration.

Why was fate working against you?

“Let’s just wait by the bar,” you suggested, resigned. “I’ll wait until the fans clear out, and then I can talk to him.”

“Suit yourself, but I’m going to the dance floor!” Lola laughed, waving as she disappeared into the mass of moving bodies.

You downed a drink, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of hope and despair. Time passed, and you remained at the bar, only to see the fans crowding around Oscar, capturing selfies and shouting his name.

He seemed gracious yet slightly overwhelmed, laughter spilling from him as he interacted with the crowd.

As the minutes dragged on and your drink count steadily rose, you felt your heart sink lower. It was hard to swallow as more people pressed in, and when you finally dared to look back, your heart lurched painfully.

There, in the midst of the frenetic energy of the club, stood Oscar with a beautiful girl, their lips brushing together in an unexpected kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat, and a rush of tears threatened to spill over.

You turned away, biting down on your lip. “What am I even doing here?” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head as if that could shake off the image before it lodged itself into your mind like a stubborn burr.

It was absurd, really. You hadn’t even realized you had that much feelings for him until this very moment, and now, every insecurity you possessed rose up like a tide.

The club seemed to swell and pulse around you, but its vibrant atmosphere faded into silence.

The laughter turned into whispers, and you could almost hear your own thoughts screaming: He’s out of your league. She’s everything you’re not.

Suddenly, you felt claustrophobic, trapped in a cycle of unwanted feelings and doubt.

As if on autopilot, you threaded your way through the crowd, pushing past gyrating bodies, dodging the strobe lights that seemed to explode in front of your eyes. You reached the exit and stepped outside.

The fresh air hit your face like a splash of water, shockingly crisp against the sticky humidity of the club. You leaned against the cool brick wall of the alley beside the entrance and breathed deeply, trying to get your bearings.

“What did I expect?” you whispered to the empty night. “Of course he’d choose someone like her.”

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out, and a message popped up. It was from Lola.

“Where did you go? I thought you were in there! I found a booth by the bar! Get back in! :)”

You almost typed back, “I’ll stay out here forever,” but instead, you just hit the home button and sighed. The night was still young. Maybe there was more to this evening than you could see.

You took a moment, your mind racing. The truth was, you liked Oscar. Like, really liked him.

You had hoped that tonight might be the night you could tell him, but that seemed impossible now. . . .

You sit on your bed, the soft quilt embraced by the evening light filtering through your curtains. The room feels heavy, shadows gather, and silence reigns from the world outside.

You set your phone down, and the earlier events flood back.

The memory of that night at the club is vivid. The pulsating beat of the music had echoed through your heart, but all that vibrancy shattered like glass when you spotted them.

Oscar—your Oscar—leaning in, kissing someone else. You had felt the blood drain from your face, the weight of a thousand crushed dreams falling on your shoulders.

“Why did I come here?” you whisper, even though your bedroom feels like a cocoon, wrapped away from the world outside.

In a moment of impulsivity, you had blocked Oscar on every social media platform you could think of. His posts would only serve as daggers, and you wouldn’t let him hurt you like that.

You wonder if he even noticed. Lando, his best friend and a thousand times more perceptive, had already begun to question you.

Just moments before, your phone buzzed with a text. It was Lando, naturally, with his usual bluntness: “Hey, why did you leave the club yesterday??? Did you get sick or something?”

The truth clawed at you, but you didn’t owe them any explanation. So, you replied with a simple lie.

“Just felt tired. I’ve been working too much lately.”

You knew he wouldn’t buy it, but you hoped to evade the topic long enough for things to quiet down.

Turning your phone face down, you sigh and lean back against your pillows. The weight of the night settles over you—anger, sadness, longing—and then your phone buzzes again.

“Hey, you okay?” Lando’s message flashes across the screen.

Your heart races. “Yeah, just tired,” you type, heart pounding, expecting his response any moment.

“You don’t sound like it,” Lando replies, and you can almost picture him furrowing his brow, a concerned expression tightening his features. The thought stings, a remembrance of all the times he has been there for you, holding space in his easily approachable way.

“Seriously, Lando, I’m fine. Just needed some air,” you type back, each word more strained than the last.

He replies quickly. “You want me to come over? We can have a movie night or something.”

As tempting as it sounds, the idea both comforts and terrifies you. You know Lando well enough to recognize that he’d dig deeper into your feelings, convinced something is wrong.

Still, there's a part of you that craves that familiarity, the bond you share.

“No, it’s all good. Just need some time alone,” you respond, unsure of your own feelings.

“That’s not really your style, though. You’re always inviting me over. What’s up?” Lando pushes back gently, a sense of worry lacing through his words.

You can’t hide from the truth forever, but admitting your feelings about Oscar feels too raw, too exposed. Lando’s your friend, but he’s also Oscar’s best friend; anything you say could wind up back to him, and you’re not ready for that.

“I just saw something—something I didn’t want to see at the club,” you finally muster, the honesty spilling from your fingertips despite your reservations.

There’s a pause—a beat of silence—and for a moment, you wonder if he’s already piecing it together.

“You mean Oscar?” Lando asks, his tone softer but still probing. “What about him?”

“Nothing.” The word feels hollow, the truth clawing at your throat. “I just... I just need some space, alright?”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Lando persists. “You and Oscar were pretty tight when he won until…”

You cut him off. “Until he kissed a girl right in front of me?” The anger again simmers to the surface. “I think I have a right to be upset.”

Another pause from Lando, and you can sense the concern shift in his tone. “Do you want to talk about it? Because I’m here, you know. You can tell me.”

The dam inside you threatens to break. The memories of your laughter, the fun late-night conversations, the promises whispered amongst friends; they flood your mind like a tidal wave, overwhelming you.

“What am I supposed to say, Lando? That I got my heart broken? That I liked him more than a friend and now he’s off with some random girl?”

A soft sigh echoes from his end. “That’s... tough, I get it. But you know Oscar, he—”

“Knows how to play with everyone’s feelings, apparently.” Your voice sharpens, the words tasting bitter. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Lando insists, and there’s a quiet strength in his tone that covers you like a reassuring blanket.

“I...” The protest slips from your lips, but you can’t help yourself. It comes rushing out. “I’ve liked Oscar for so long, Lando! And to see him throw it all away with someone else was just... it was like the ground fell from beneath me. I don’t want to feel like this. It hurts.”

Lando falls silent on the other end, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve crossed a line, if you’ve shared too much.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he finally asks, his voice gently probing. “I would have kept my mouth shut about it—”

“I didn’t want to ruin what we had,” you admit, the weight behind your voice strong now. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“All friendships can survive that.” His tone softens. “And honestly, it’s okay to feel hurt. It’s more than okay; it’s natural.”

Suddenly overwhelmed, tears brim at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I just wanted to be happy, Lando. And now, I don’t know... I feel lost.”

“Hey, listen to me.” Lando’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts. “You are so much more than how Oscar makes you feel. It’s his loss if he can’t see you for the incredible person you are.”

The resolve in his words wraps around you like a lifeline. A small warmth unfurls in your chest, a flicker of hope that perhaps you can heal from this hurt, that you can find a way to be more than just a side character in someone else's story.

“Thanks, Lando,” you say softly, the sincerity warming your heart.

“Anytime.” He pauses for a moment and then adds, “But I'm coming over tomorrow for that movie night; we’re going to drown ourselves in popcorn and bad romantic comedies until you feel better.”

You smile, though it’s still fragile. “Okay, deal.”

As you hang up, the shadows in your room seem less daunting, the weight a little lighter. Just maybe, you think as you finally allow your eyelids to flutter closed, the dawn will bring a new perspective.

And perhaps, amongst friendship and healing, you’ll find your way back to yourself.

The next day, Lando sat across from you on your well-worn couch, a colorful array of snacks spread between you. The smell of popcorn and sweets filled the air, a comforting distraction.

You had planned this night as a refuge from your thoughts, to sink into the warmth of a rom-com and ignore the knot tightening your stomach at the memories of Oscar.

As the movie played—a predictable plot about two people destined to be together—you tried to focus, but the image of Oscar’s lips brushing against that girl’s haunted you.

Halfway through the film, Lando suddenly turned toward you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you mad at him?”

“What?” You blinked, stunned by the abruptness of the question.

“Are you mad at Oscar?” he pressed, his eyes unyielding.

“Lando, we agreed on watching a movie today, not discussing this,” you warned, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth, hoping to drown your emotions under buttery goodness.

“I know! But I spoke to Oscar—”

You cut him off, “No, I don’t want to hear it! I’ll probably just get more upset, and I really don’t want that right now.”

Lando raised his hands in surrender, looking both apologetic and mildly amused. “Okay, okay. No talking about Oscar.”

“Thank you,” you replied, the tension easing a bit. You leaned back, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile. “But since you made me mad, you know what the punishment is.”

Lando’s eyes widened in horror. “No! Not the ‘punishment’!”

You grinned despite yourself, reveling in the playful banter. “Yes! You brought it upon yourself. I hope you brought your dance shoes."

“I did not!” he exclaimed, his face buried in his hands. “Please, anything but that!”

You chuckled. “What’s the matter, Lando? You afraid of a little dancing?”

His gaze peeked through his fingers. “You know I can’t dance! I’ll embarrass myself!”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning closer, the earlier sadness momentarily forgotten. “It’ll be fun!”

“Fine! But I swear if I break a leg...”

“Which you won’t!” You laughed, getting up and putting on an upbeat song.

You opened your arms theatrically, ready to embrace the moment. “Come on! Show me your best moves!”

With a reluctant sigh, Lando stood up, giving you a resigned grin. “Okay, but just to prove to you how awful I am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

As the music thumped through the apartment, Lando executed the most exaggerated dance moves imaginable—one hand in the air, feet sliding across the wooden floor. You couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably.

“Is this your best?” you challenged, twirling into your own clumsy routine.

“Okay, okay! Here goes nothing!” He leaped into an interpretive dance that was equal parts flailing and sheer comedy, and you collapsed back onto the couch in a fit of giggles.

“Lando, you’re a legend,” you wheezed between breaths.

He finally stopped dancing, slightly out of breath and grinning. “I think I’ll stick to racing, thanks. But, how about you?”

You paused for a moment, your laughter fading. “Honestly? I just don't get why he’d kiss someone else. I thought...”

“Thought what?” Lando pressed gently, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

“I thought he liked me,” you admitted quietly. “I thought maybe there was something between us. But seeing him with someone else, it just hurts. I guess I feel foolish.”

“Hey.” Lando took a step closer and sat beside you. “You’re not foolish. Oscar’s the one who’s a bit of a jerk for messing things up. He should know how amazing you are. You deserve someone who doesn’t make you question their intentions.”

You looked at him, and while his words comforted you, they also tore at a different part of your heart. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” Lando smiled softly at you. “And you’ve got all the time in the world to find the right person. Just don’t let Oscar’s choices define how you see yourself, okay?”

You nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m just... trying to sort it all out.”

“Well, until you do, I'm here. Movie marathons, dance-offs, and endless supplies of snacks included,” he declared, gesturing to the spread between you as if it were an unbreakable vow.

“Thanks, Lando,” you said, appreciating his unwavering support. “Really.”

As you settled back together to resume the movie, the weight of the world felt just a little lighter. Sure, thoughts of Oscar still lingered, but Lando’s friendship reminded you that you weren’t alone in this.

You had someone who not only understood but also cared enough to make you laugh through the pain.

And for that, you were grateful. . . .

You decided to skip the next races.

"I need to clear my head," you thought, convincing yourself that the distance would help you forget the feelings you harbored for the Australian driver.

Instead, you found yourself engrossed in your studies on campus. Why watch the races on TV when you could be in the paddock?

But here you were, torn between wanting to support your team and an overwhelming need to shield your heart from Oscar.

When Lando skillfully maneuvered his way through the track, you stifled your cheers in classrooms, mouth clamping shut when he crossed the finish line.

"Focus on your studies," you’d remind yourself, but the pride bubbling within you was impossible to contain.

For every overtaking move Oscar pulled off that sparked a rush inside you, you felt the weight of your heart, one that couldn’t help but cheer for a man who had stolen your thoughts.

Before you knew it, the championship was upon you, and McLaren had claimed victory.

In a moment of exhilaration, you snapped a picture of yourself in McLaren merchandise, a radiant smile gracing your face. You shared it on social media with the caption, “I’ll always bleed McLaren orange! #TeamMcLaren."

Within moments, notifications flooded your screen: Lando’s account liked your post and the McLaren admin account liking with a comment that read, “We miss seeing you in the paddock 🧡!”

It was bittersweet, a confirmation that you still held a place with the team—but it brought memories of the paddock flooding back, along with reminders of Oscar.

When the invitation to the team’s Christmas party arrived, it triggered a mix of excitement and dread. Should you go and face him? You hesitated, the idea dawning over you like a storm cloud.

“Just come, please!” Lando’s persistent voice broke through your musings. “You’ll regret it if you don’t. It’s going to be fun, and besides, I’ll be there. You know it won’t be the same without you.”

“Lando,” you pleaded, biting your lip, the thought of Oscar’s lingering gaze causing a swell of anxiety. “What if I see him? I’m not ready.”

“Then be ready! Just wear something orange and channel your inner Papaya spirit. I’ll look out for you,” Lando grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. You finally relented. “Okay! One night—just one!”

On the night of the party, you chose a shimmering orange dress that hugged your figure, giving off a radiant glow that felt gratifying and powerful.

Grabbing your jacket, you inhaled deeply before stepping into the vibrant atmosphere of the venue, where laughter exploded and voices danced around you.

The place was bustling with McLaren energy—feasting, drinks flowing, and music swelling. It felt like a family reunion, everyone cherishing the victory together.

The festive spirit washed over you, and for a moment, you forgot about Oscar.

“Y/N! You actually came!” Lando’s voice cut through the crowd, and you turned to see him beaming at you, his dark hair glistening under the lights.

“Yeah, I had no choice. You would have dragged me out of my house otherwise,” you shot back playfully, matching his grin.

“You know me so well!” Lando laughed, pulling you into a hug.

He stayed by your side for a while, joking and chatting about the race, but eventually excused himself to the bathroom. “Just stay here! I’ll find you!” he called over his shoulder as he weaved through the throngs of partygoers.

Left with the vibrant atmosphere and pulsating music, you pulled out your phone to scroll aimlessly through social media. But time crept on, and you found yourself growing bored, the joyful sounds around you meshing into one indistinguishable noise.

Suddenly, a voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Y/N.”

You looked up, dread pooling in your stomach as you met Oscar’s gaze. He stood a few feet away, an uneasy smile stretching across his face. “Hey.”

“No, no, no,” your mind raced. Not now. You almost turned to flee, but his hand caught your wrist with a gentle grip, stopping you mid-stride.

“Y/N, please.”

His eyes held a mix of sincerity and something else—maybe regret? Despite your instincts screaming at you to pull away, you found yourself halting, torn between running and wanting to melt into the warmth of his presence.

“Can we talk?” he continued, his voice softer now, nearly lost in the clamor of the room.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m happy for you and your girlfriend,” you retorted, trying to maintain the wall you’d built around your heart.

You expected him to let go of your wrist, to back off and accept your words as the final note in this dissonant symphony. Instead, his grip tightened, marshalling a mix of surprise and frustration.

He guided you through the thrumming crowd, out of the main hall and into a smaller, dimly lit room. The sudden calm clashed violently with the noise outside.

Once you were inside, he released your wrist but blocked the door, leaning against it with an expression that was both earnest and somewhat frustrated.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, crossing your arms defensively.

“I want to explain myself to you, but since you’re so stubborn, I have to lock you in a room for you to listen to me.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “There’s no need to explain. I already know—”

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’ve got the wrong idea,” he interrupted, urgency threading his tone.

“Try me,” you challenged, stepping closer. You hated how close he was, how safe, how intoxicating.

“I’m sure you’re thinking about the club,” he rushed, his eyes searching yours. “That girl, whoever she is, came over and just kissed me because I looked like her boyfriend. She apologized and walked off. That’s all that happened. You can ask Lando or the others."

Your heart rate quickened as you took another step closer. “Why are you even telling me? I had nothing to do with it,” you pressed, your voice a mixture of challenge and curiosity.

He swallowed hard, visibly nervous. “Because it matters. You matter. You have to understand that I didn’t want it, that I wasn’t interested.”

You took a breath, the weight of the moment heavy against your chest. “So, if you weren’t interested, then what do you want?

You tilted your head slightly, trying to read the emotions flickering across his face like shadows in the dark. His jaw worked, as though he was searching for the right words.

“I want you to know…” he started but faltered, glancing away for a split second, as if the courage to continue was caught in his throat.

When he looked back, you noticed a flicker of determination igniting in his gaze. “You know I’ve liked you for a while now, right?”

The admission hung in the air, visceral and raw. Your pulse quickened, the world around you fading into a blur.

“Liked me? As in… more than friends?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding earnestly. “I didn’t know how to say it, and then… and then that happened.” He gestured vaguely towards the club, frustration lacing his words.

“I was so caught off guard, and all I could think about was how I didn’t want you to think something was going on—because nothing is. It was just... a mistake.”

A thousand butterflies erupted in your stomach, and the challenge melting from your voice was replaced by something softer, deeper. “It’s hard for me to believe that when you just let it happen. Didn’t you want to push her away? Didn’t you think about me at all?”

He took a step forward, his expression earnest and intense. “Of course, I thought about you! That's exactly why I’m here, explaining all this to you. I thought maybe you’d get the wrong idea, and I didn’t want that. The last thing I want is for you to feel hurt because of something that wasn’t even my fault,”

You could feel the electricity between you, the shared vulnerability tugging at the edges of your heart. “So, what now? Do we just pretend like tonight didn’t happen?”

“No,” Oscar’s voice was clear and firm, cutting through the tension like a knife. “I don’t want to ignore this. I want to figure out what we are… or what we could be.”

He paused, searching your face for reassurance, hope mingling with uncertainty. “Can we…”

“What if I just got jealous?” you interrupted, tilting your head while letting your walls slowly drop. “What if I’m just overreacting because the thought of you with someone else drives me insane?”

His lips curled upwards, a tentative smile forming as the weight of the moment shifted. “Then that’s good, right? It means you care.”

“I do care,” you confessed, the admission flowing out of you like a soft sigh. “I care more than I should. You’ve been… well, hard to read. But I like you, too, Oscar. I have for a while. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

His relief was palpable, and he stepped a fraction closer, closing the gap between you. “So, what do you say we start fresh? Just you and me. No more mixed signals, no more misunderstandings.”

You held his gaze, the corners of your mouth lifting in a soft smile. “I’d like that. I really would.”

Oscar took a deep breath, as if steadying himself for what came next. “Come here,” you said, raising your arms for a hug. Without hesitation, he stepped into your embrace, his warmth seeping into you like the first rays of sun after a long winter.

He melted into you, resting his chin gently atop your head, and you felt a flutter in your chest, a feeling that said everything would be alright.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. You placed a kiss on his cheek, wishing it to be understood as a promise, a seal to this new beginning.

“You missed,” he joked playfully, breaking the tension and causing both of you to smile.

“Did I?” you teased back, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “I think my aim was just fine.”

Oscar shook his head, laughter escaping his lips. “You must have missed the target completely,” he replied, grinning, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You both stood there, a moment of levity hanging beautifully between you, until Oscar looked up suddenly, as if struck by a realization.

“Hey, it seems like fate gave you another chance,” he said, his voice laced with excitement.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, and you followed his gaze upward. A sprig of mistletoe hung above you, the innocent plant a stark reminder of holiday traditions and the spark of romance it promised. Your heart raced.

“Guess you’re a lucky man, Piastri,” you said, a teasing tone lacing your words. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at him, a playful challenge in your eyes.

He stepped back, his grin widening as he looked at you. “Lucky? How so?”

“Well,” you began, your heart pounding in your chest, “I mean, just look at the circumstances. Here we are, two people who have been dancing around each other forever, and we’re under a mistletoe. You know what that means…”

“What does it mean?” he asked, leaning in, curiosity painting his features as he watched you.

Shifting your gaze back to the mistletoe, you felt bold. “It means we should kiss,” you stated matter-of-factly, suppressing a giggle at how ridiculous the notion felt in the best possible way.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, stepping closer once more, his sincerity igniting a rush of exhilaration within you.

As he leaned in, your heart raced faster, a million thoughts spinning in your head. Would it be awkward? Would he pull back last minute?

But then his hand found the back of your neck, and it felt like the world around you faded away. Time slowed as his lips finally met yours, tentative at first, then growing fervent, a collision of emotions.

You held onto him tightly, drowning in the moment, feeling everything you've kept bottled up finally surge forth—a mixture of relief, tenderness, and the thrill of shared possibility.

You could taste the sweetness of victory in the kiss, savoring the promise of what was to come.

As you shared a tender kiss, the door creaked open just enough for Lando's head to peek in. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he caught sight of the two of you lost in the moment, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him.

Oscar gave a silent thumbs back to Lando, his eyes still closed, fully aware of the carefully orchestrated plan.

This was all part of the scheme they had devised, aptly named "Operation Mistletoe Magic,". . . .

[aaron04jpg]

very sinister, evil, and orange of them

[theonottsbxtch]

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS | OP81

an: oscar would so be the nerd at university that NOBODY hated but i got this listening to high school sweethearts by melanie

wc: 3.4k

Oscar wasn’t known for standing out. If anything, he was the type you’d forget was in the room until someone said, “Hey, can you pass me the stapler?” Quiet, unassuming, always with a book in hand or headphones half-falling out of his ears, he drifted through university like a ghost no one was particularly scared of. That is, until he met her.

She—loud, chaotic, unapologetically strange—was the kind of person who made an entrance just by breathing. People called her insane, whispered about her after lectures, and swapped stories about her latest absurd escapades. But to Oscar, she wasn’t insane. She was magnetic.

The first time he saw her, she was sitting cross-legged on a table in the middle of the library, explaining in detail why the library’s “No Food” policy was a direct attack on her personal freedoms. The staff were too stunned to stop her. Oscar was too stunned to look away.

By the time she noticed him staring—wide-eyed, clutching his battered notebook—she smiled, sharp and knowing. “You’ve got a crush, don’t you?” she said, not a question but a declaration.

Oscar didn’t deny it. How could he? Her gaze pinned him to the spot, like she’d peeled back his layers and found the embarrassing, undeniable truth: he was completely infatuated.

“Thought so,” she said, hopping off the table with an exaggerated stretch. “Well, listen up, quiet boy. If you’re gonna have a crush on me, there are rules.”

“Rules?” he echoed, voice cracking slightly.

“For dating me,” she said casually, as though she delivered ultimatums like this every day. “And trust me, it’s not for the faint of heart. So, listen close, because I’m only saying this once.”

She held up a finger. “Rule one: You must accept that I’m a little out of my mind.”

Oscar blinked. “A little?”

“Don’t interrupt,” she snapped, but the glint in her eye softened it into something almost teasing. “Rule two: This whole thing is a waste if you can’t walk me down the finish line. I don’t do quitters.”

She was pacing now, her hands moving as she spoke, like she was building the rules out of thin air. “Rule three: Give me passion. Don’t make fun of my fashion, even if it’s ‘unconventional.’ Rule four: Give me more. And I mean more, more, more. Compliments, time, effort—whatever you’ve got, I’ll take it.”

She stopped in front of him, looking him dead in the eye. “Rule five: You can’t be scared to show me off. Hold my hand in public. Smile when people stare. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Oscar nodded, as if it were a contract he was ready to sign.

“Rule six,” she continued, her voice dropping slightly, “if you can’t put in the work...well, I don’t know what you think this is supposed to be. And rule seven...” She paused dramatically, a slow, sharp grin spreading across her face. “If you cheat, you will die. No exaggeration.”

He laughed nervously, unsure if she was joking. Her expression didn’t budge.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he asked.

“Dead serious.” Her gaze was steady, almost unnervingly so. He felt a strange thrill run through him, a combination of terror and awe.

“Oh,” he said, his voice faint.

“And another thing,” she added, leaning closer. Her voice was a soft purr now, almost conspiratorial. “If you can’t handle the choking, the biting, the loving, the smothering—well, let’s just say you’d better leave now.”

Oscar’s heart raced. For a moment, he thought she might be messing with him. But as he studied her face, the fierce intensity in her eyes, he realised she meant every word. And instead of scaring him off, it only pulled him in deeper.

He swallowed hard, his lips parting as if to respond, but she didn’t wait for him to speak. “You up for it, quiet boy?” she asked, raising a brow. “Or are you gonna run like the rest of them?”

Oscar took a deep breath, his chest tight but his resolve steady. “I’m in,” he said, the words stronger than he expected. “All in.”

Her grin widened. “Good. Don’t disappoint me.”

And just like that, she spun on her heel and sauntered away, leaving Oscar standing there, breathless, overwhelmed, and more in love than he’d ever thought possible.

The whispers started the moment she left the room. Oscar could feel the weight of every stare, the quiet hum of disbelief settling over the students still lingering in the library. He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the strap of his bag, and glanced around. A few people smirked. Others shook their heads, muttering things he couldn’t quite make out—but he knew what they were saying.

"She’s messing with him.""He doesn’t stand a chance.""Poor guy. He’ll regret it."

Oscar didn’t care. He didn’t care that the rest of the university seemed to think she was unapproachable, untouchable. If anything, their doubt only made his resolve stronger.

Later that evening, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone. He’d spent hours trying to figure out what to text her. Every draft felt wrong—too eager, too stiff, too... boring. And if there was one thing she didn’t tolerate, it was boring.

Eventually, he settled on something simple:

“So... when do I start following the rules?”

The response came almost instantly:

“Tomorrow. Be ready by 9. Wear something cute. And bring coffee.”

Oscar stared at the message, his heart racing. He wanted to ask where they were going, but something told him she wouldn’t answer. She thrived on keeping people off balance, and he had a feeling she’d enjoy watching him squirm.

The next morning, he was at her door at 8:55, holding two cups of coffee and wearing his nicest shirt. It wasn’t much—just a navy button-up he usually saved for presentations—but he hoped it would pass the “cute” test.

She opened the door with a dramatic flair, her eyes immediately scanning him from head to toe. For a moment, Oscar thought he’d failed. But then she smiled, a slow, wicked grin that made his stomach flip.

“Not bad,” she said, grabbing one of the coffees from his hand. “You’re trainable.”

“Uh, thanks?” he said, not entirely sure if it was a compliment.

She laughed and tugged him inside, closing the door behind him. Her apartment was just as chaotic as he’d imagined—paintings leaned against the walls, half-finished projects scattered across the floor, and a neon sign above the kitchen counter that read Normal Is Overrated.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, trying not to trip over a stack of books on his way to the sofa.

She raised an eyebrow. “Rule two, remember? I don’t do quitters, and I don’t do guys who need their hands held. Just keep up, and maybe you’ll survive the day.”

It turned out “keeping up” was a lot harder than he’d expected.

She led him all over the city, dragging him into thrift shops and art galleries, stopping at random street performers to critique their technique, and challenging him to a karaoke battle in the middle of a bustling café. By the time they got to their final stop—a rooftop overlooking the city—Oscar was out of breath, his feet sore, and his head spinning.

“You’re not dead yet,” she said, leaning against the railing and sipping the last of her coffee.

“Barely,” he replied, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

She laughed, a real, genuine laugh that softened her sharp edges for just a moment. “Not bad for day one, quiet boy. But you’ve got a long way to go.”

Oscar looked up at her, the wind catching her hair and the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes. She was intense, unpredictable, and completely overwhelming—but as she turned to look at him, a hint of curiosity in her expression, he felt something settle in his chest.

“I’m ready,” he said, surprising himself with how much he meant it. “Whatever it takes, I’m in.”

She tilted her head, studying him like she couldn’t quite figure him out. “You’re weird,” she said finally. “I think I like that.”

And just like that, she turned and started walking away.

“Wait, where are you going?” he called after her.

“Home,” she said over her shoulder. “You’ll text me tomorrow. Same time. Different rules.”

Oscar stayed on the rooftop for a while after she left, the cool breeze clearing his head. He had no idea what he’d just signed up for. But as he watched her disappear into the crowd below, he realised one thing for certain: there was no turning back now.

It had been almost a week of him following her around town doing insane things with her, everytime he did it, he fell for her more than before.

The café buzzed with its usual morning chaos—coffee machines hissing, chairs scraping against the floor, and students chattering as they rushed to squeeze in breakfast before class. Oscar had been there for five minutes, awkwardly lingering at a corner table, when he spotted her weaving through the crowd.

She didn’t walk so much as command the space around her. Her oversized sweater draped lazily over her shoulders, and her combat boots stomped just loud enough to draw attention. In one hand, she clutched her ever-present carton of orange juice.

Oscar’s heart gave its now-familiar leap at the sight of her.

She didn’t smile when she saw him—she rarely did in public—but the slight tilt of her head was enough for him. She slid into the seat next to him, her elbow bumping his in a way that felt oddly reassuring.

And then he showed up.

“Morning, Oscar.”

Oscar tensed instinctively at the voice. Charles. The kind of guy who wore his popularity like a crown and acted like it gave him the right to sit wherever he wanted. Unfortunately, today, that “wherever” was the empty chair on the other side of Oscar.

“Charles,” Oscar said stiffly.

Charles ignored the tone and dropped into the chair, leaning back like he owned the place. His attention flicked briefly to her, sitting silent and unmoving on the other side of Oscar. She didn’t look at him. Not even a glance.

“I see you’re still hanging out with, uh... what’s the word? Unconventional company,” Charles said, his smirk practically oozing condescension.

Oscar opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He hated confrontation, and Charles had a way of twisting any defense into something laughable.

She didn’t react. Not a word, not a movement. She simply reached across Oscar, setting her orange juice on the table with deliberate slowness, her hand brushing his arm as she did.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Not gonna say anything, huh? No witty comeback? That’s new. You know, Oscar, if you ever need—”

He didn’t get to finish.

In one fluid motion, she turned, grabbed Oscar by the collar, and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was bold, fierce, and entirely unapologetic. The world around them seemed to fall away.

Oscar’s first thought was that he should probably panic. His second thought, as her lips pressed against his and the faint taste of orange juice lingered on his tongue, was that he didn’t want to.

Then came the chaos.

Mid-kiss, her elbow nudged the carton of orange juice. It tipped over, spilling in a perfect arc onto Charles’s lap.

“What the hell?” Charles shot to his feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as the juice soaked into his trousers. “Are you serious?”

She finally broke the kiss, her expression perfectly calm as she turned to face Charles. She didn’t say a word. Not a single word.

Charles’s face turned redder by the second. “You’re insane,” he hissed, pointing at her like she was some kind of villain. “I knew it. Completely insane.”

Oscar, still dazed from the kiss, felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest. He couldn’t stop it. It escaped as a quiet chuckle at first, then a full grin spreading across his face.

Charles turned his glare on Oscar. “And you! Are you really just going to sit there and let her—”

“Yes,” Oscar said simply, his voice stronger than he’d expected. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Charles sputtered, utterly dumbfounded, before storming off toward the bathroom, muttering under his breath about how “insane people shouldn’t be allowed in public.”

The café was silent for a beat, and then, like clockwork, the whispers started.

She didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she didn’t care. She turned back to Oscar, calmly picking up the now-empty orange juice carton and tossing it into a nearby bin.

“That was... a lot,” Oscar said finally, still catching his breath.

She shrugged, her eyes sparkling with something playful. “Rule five,” she said, as if it explained everything.

“Show you off and hold your hand?”

She tilted her head, smiling ever so slightly. “Close enough.”

And just like that, she stood up, as if nothing had happened. “Come on, quiet boy. You’re walking me to class.”

Oscar followed her out of the café, the eyes of half the room trailing after them. For the first time, though, he didn’t care. If this was what insanity felt like, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to go back to normal.

Over the next few months, she and Oscar became the university’s most inexplicable pairing. People whispered about them constantly, but neither of them seemed to care.

She still refused to conform to anyone’s expectations, roaming campus in outfits that veered between thrift-shop chaos and unapologetic glam. Oscar, meanwhile, remained quiet and steady, like a grounding force to her whirlwind energy.

They settled into their dynamic surprisingly well. She had her rules, and Oscar followed them—sometimes clumsily, but always with devotion. She dragged him to art galleries, night markets, and rooftop parties he’d never have attended on his own. He listened to her rants, held her hand when she insisted, and even endured her merciless teasing when he fumbled a karaoke mic.

In turn, she surprised him, too. Sometimes, when the world got too loud, she’d let herself be vulnerable around him. She’d show up at his apartment late at night, curl up on his couch without a word, and let him hold her until she fell asleep. He learned to read her silences, to understand that sometimes her “insanity” was a mask for something deeper.

They were an odd match, but they worked.

One Friday morning, a few months into their relationship, Oscar found himself in the sports science building for a required class study. His professor was leading the group through a practical demonstration of exercise physiology, and today’s session involved a series of physical tests—strength, endurance, flexibility.

“Right,” the professor called out. “We’ll start with the treadmill test. Everyone take turns, and when it’s your turn, you’ll need to remove your shirt so we can monitor your breathing and heart rate more closely.”

Oscar didn’t think much of it. He was used to this sort of thing. Sports science wasn’t exactly shy about physicality. So, when his turn came, he stepped onto the treadmill and casually peeled off his shirt.

The reaction was immediate.

A low whistle echoed across the room, followed by murmured laughter and a chorus of exaggerated “oohs.”

Oscar froze, his cheeks burning as he turned to look at the group. The guys in his class were all grinning, their eyes fixed not on his face, but his back.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Uh, dude,” one of them said, barely able to keep a straight face. “You wanna tell us where you got those?”

Oscar frowned, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. That’s when he remembered: the scratches.

His back was a mess of faint red marks—long, jagged streaks that stood out against his otherwise pale skin. They were clearly recent, unmistakable evidence of what could only be described as... passionate nights.

“Oh,” he said weakly, the realisation hitting him like a freight train.

“Oh?” one of the guys repeated, laughing. “That’s all you’ve got to say? Come on, man. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Oscar’s face went crimson. He tugged his shirt back on, muttering something about “none of your business,” but the damage was done.

“Bet it’s that girl,” someone said, the grin in their voice unmistakable. “You know, the one everyone says is kinda crazy.”

Oscar ignored them, focusing on the treadmill’s blinking screen as he started his run. But he couldn’t stop the small, involuntary smile that crept onto his face.

Later that day, he met up with her at their usual spot—a small café tucked away from the campus chaos. She was already there, lounging in her chair with a book in one hand and a coffee in the other.

“You’re late,” she said without looking up.

“Got held up,” he replied, sliding into the seat across from her.

She finally looked up, narrowing her eyes. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“Am I?”

“You are. Spill.”

Oscar hesitated, then leaned in slightly. “Let’s just say the guys in my class found out you’re... hands-on.”

It took her a second to process, but when she did, her face split into a wicked grin. “Oh, really?”

He nodded. “They were... impressed. Lots of whistling. Some questions I refused to answer.”

She laughed, a low, delighted sound that made his stomach flip. “Good. Let them wonder.”

“And you don’t think it’s, I don’t know, embarrassing?”

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing his as she tilted her head in that way that always made him feel like she was reading his mind. “Oscar, sweetie,” she said, her voice teasing but fond, “I’m never embarrassed about liking you. Why should you be embarrassed about liking me?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. All he knew was that in that moment, surrounded by her chaos and certainty, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

After a bit of catching up, they did what they usually did. She pulled out a book and he pulled out his laptop, the both of them doing something in silence. There was a low hum of student chatter filling the air. It was peaceful in a way Oscar had grown to love.

But the peace didn’t last.

A group of guys from his sports science class strolled past, their laughter cutting through the quiet. Oscar didn’t notice them at first—not until one of them whistled, loud and sharp.

“Yo, Oscar!” one of them called, smirking as he walked by.

“Those scratches healed up yet, man?” another teased, nudging his friend.

There was a ripple of laughter, followed by another whistle, and Oscar immediately felt his face heat up.

He looked down at his lap, his cheeks burning as he pretended to adjust the edge of his notebook. The attention made him feel like he wanted to sink into his chair and disappear.

She noticed instantly.

Her gaze snapped up, tracking the guys as they walked away. Then she turned to Oscar, watching as he ducked his head, his shoulders tense with embarrassment.

“No, no, no,” she said firmly, tossing her book aside and sitting up.

“What?” he mumbled, still looking anywhere but at her.

She reached out and gently cupped his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. There was a teasing glint in her gaze, but her voice was soft when she said, “No, Oscar darling. None of this shy, looking-down nonsense.”

He blinked at her, unsure what to say.

“Listen to me,” she said, leaning closer, her voice dropping into a low, almost conspiratorial tone. “You’re my boyfriend. You’re sweet, gorgeous, and apparently very memorable.” Her lips twitched into a grin. “So soak it in, baby.”

Before he could protest, she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward her.

Her lips pressed against his with deliberate force, and the world around them seemed to fade. The kiss wasn’t subtle or polite—it was just shy of scandalous.

Oscar’s brain short-circuited. He could vaguely hear the distant laughter of the guys who’d whistled, probably in shock, but he didn’t care. His initial surprise melted into something warmer, and he kissed her back, his hands instinctively resting on her waist.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes sparkled with satisfaction. She smirked at him, her fingers still fisted in his shirt.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded, dazed, his cheeks still flushed but for an entirely different reason now. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” she said, leaning back casually as if nothing had happened. She picked up her book and flipped it open again, completely unbothered by the attention they’d drawn.

Oscar, on the other hand, felt the stares of half the cantine burning into his skin. But this time, instead of looking down, he found himself smiling.

If this was what she meant by “soaking it in,” he figured he could get used to it.

the end.

[themissingmango]

Polite Cat Oscar strikes again! 🎃 (that video of him carving a pumpkin really went to my head)

[kolbalissh]

thinking about oscar smiling and giggling like a dork as carlos photobombs the mcl group picture,, following carlos with his eyes the whole time, looking up at him and then giving him the classic oscar piastri thumbs up like thats the highest form of endearment from him

[ynbabe]

would you write an smau with yuki or Oscar with an ex racer male reader who hangs out around the paddock a lot, maybe there could be a scene where yuki/oscar gets asked in an interview about rumors about who he’s dating and reader’s reaction gives it away?

Chose Oscar for this one cause I'm gonna make the reader similar to a certain someone hehhehe

Also let’s all pretend this isn’t like 9 months later okay 😭😭

lando.jpg

lando.jpg he's such an airport dad (he still has my passport...)

username is that oscar?? in the last pic???

lando.jpg yes @/y/n/l/nofficial did a lil therapy session

lando.jpg father

y/n/l/nofficial do NOT call me that lando.jpg Daddy y/n/l/nofficial NO-

username the comments 💀

username lando just replaced Carlos with another older Spanish man- We see u pookie we'd fall Y/n too

oscarpiastri the one time I'm featured and I'm drunk and crying? I'm calling my father @/charlesleclerc

lando.jpg you're lucky thats all thats featured lando.jpg are you sure thats the daddy you wanna call? lando.jpg deleted comment

username HELLO??? WHAT IS GOING ON???

y/n/l/nofficial

y/n/l/nofficial he stole my bike so I stole his look🥰

username I need someone to look at me the way Oscar looks at Y/n

username that hoodie looks a lil too snug bbg do u have something to tell us??

username fr like Y/n is BUILT no way that’s his hoodie

username that’s Oscars for sure

mclarenf1 driver swap?

username YES pls get y/n back just for one race guys pls i beg landonorris I agree Oscars mean to me Y/n’s nice 🥰 oscarpiastri I’m sorry I didn’t laugh at your knock-knock joke 🙄

You laughed as you saw all the comments under your post, knowing you were joining the McLaren garage for the Austrian GP.

--------------------------------

You cheered as Oscar got P2 screaming with everyone else. Jumping and screaming with mechanics that used to be yours.

Everyone had thought you’d hate the boy replacing you, how you’d force everyone to side with you over him, poisoning Lando’s and the teams mind against him. They couldn’t be more wrong.

You grabbed the younger man’s fireproofs collar, pushing him to the wall.

“Y/n?” “P2 baby,”

You smiled looking down at him, giving up on being professional and placing your lips on his, trying to hold back knowing the man was tired but you simply couldn’t, tasting the sweet champagne from his tongue, you pushed one knee in between his separating them.

He gasped, arching his back away from the thin motorhome wall, grabbing a fist full of your hair, making you moan, his other hand reaching to the buckle of your belt.

You separated to breath, both panting, sweaty and blushing, resting our foreheads together.

“You think we’ve got time?” You asked, placing a soft kiss at the corner of his lips, feeling them lift up into a smile.

Just as the boy was about to speak, there was loud knocking on the door, shaking the wall next to it, “No monkey business guys,” a British voice yelled laced with a teasing tone, “Osco needs to be able to walk to the interview room,” he cackled making the other men groan.

“Shut up, Cabron, go annoy Carlos or something,” you yelled, resting your head on Oscars.

“Damn you sound just like him, I must have gotten confused,” he squeaked like a dolphin making Oscar cringe at the insinuation, pushing you away.

He pulled the door open, making the other boy falling in, “Disgusting Lando, never say that again,” he whined making the older papaya clad boy laugh again.

“It’s giving enemies to lovers, 100k words-”

“GET OFF AO3,”

“GET OFF Y/N, YOUR FRICKING LIPS ARE SWOLLEN!” He yelled pointing at his own lips, making Oscar cover his, both looking at you and back at each other, making you realise your unbuckled belt with the reddened lips didn’t look very innocent.

“Ewwwwwww!” Lando groaned, running out the room, “be at the press room in 5 minutes you disgusting rabbits, oh my god,” he cried as he sped down the hallway.

Oscar looked at you, cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment, making you smile back at him, suddenly shifting to a smirk, “well, we do have 5 minutes,” you winked, making him groan and look away.

“Shut up, y/n,” he rolled his eyes and began walking out, with you hot on his heels.

You quickly caught up to him, pulling him into you by his waist while you walked side by side with him, lips to his ears, “oh, it’s y/n now? I remember something like- please, oh god, please don’t stop, ahh,” you moaned quietly, leaning back to normal and walking away, leaving a stunned Oscar behind.

“Come on, Osco, you’re getting late,” you called, smiling to yourself for causing such a reaction from the usually calm and collected man.

You had followed him to where the duo was being interviewed, cameras had been set up by the pr team, and a small section at the side for Zak, Andrea and the race engineers incase there were any questions for the team. You saw an extra chair and made your way to sit next to the boss man himself, quite happy to get to reconnect with your old boss.

The interviewer asked questions after questions with Lando being the leading man as usual, your boyfriend being the more reserved between the duo.

You took a sip of water, keeping the bottle in your hand, lost in the conversation between you and the others but heard Oscar being singled out.

“So our podium sitter here, Mr. Piastri!” The interviewer hyped up, making Oscar smile and nod, “let’s move away from the race and focus on your relationships,” he cooed trying to elicit a response but McLaren media training was a beast so all he got was a small laugh from both boys.

Lando took the lead once again, “I’m just happy it’s not me for once,” he laughed.

“Ooh,” the interviewer gasped, turning the older man at the side, “talking about relationships, rather rumours, I believe we’ve got the F1 heart throb, Y/n L/n here,” the camera panned to you, mid conversation with your former boss who nudged you, bringing your attention to the camera to which you waved at, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The man called you over, obviously happy that he could get more out of the interview.

You wanted to refuse but couldn’t, walking up to the table and finding no space as both boys had chairs, you placed your arm around Oscar, shaking his shoulder as you slightly pulled him to make space for you. You smiled at the interviewer, keeping your hand on Oscars waist, holding on to the boy so he didn’t fall of.

“Oscar, you good there?” The man asked eliciting a nervous laugh and a seagull screech from Lando.

You laughed along, pushing and pulling him back into you, his hands finding his way to your thighs to stable himself , “Oski’s about to fall,” you wriggled your brows.

“So onto all the rumours,” the man continued, oblivious to what was happening behind the table, “now the two men besides you have had plenty of rumours themselves,” which was a nice way of putting ‘WE SAW HIM KISSING A MAN’ in a pc way, “but we’ve got some sources telling us you’re in a steady relationship, anyone we’d know Oscar?” You brought the water bottle to your lips, waiting for Oscar’s answer, missing the way he’d looked at you.

Unfortunately the interviewer and camera had not, “Why are we looking at y/n?” WHAT- you chocked on the water, spilling it all over your white shirt, pushing Oscar off the chair whom pulled you and Lando down with him.

“We’re okay!” Lando screamed, one hand raised.

“IM NOT” you groaned having broken Oscar's fall.

You'd though (hoped) nothing would come of the interview, but boy were you wrong, because the edits, oh god the edits. You almost had tears in your eyes at how creative some were and actual tears about how dirty the others were.

The sound bite of you and Oscar groaning after falling had been used to hell and back and every single driver had to keep reminding you of it. Especially Lando who kept sending you thrist edits to the point you were concerned about his fyp.

But the worst part was all the speculation. And all any interviewer would ask you or Oscar would be about the rumours. You were fine with it, having dealt with stuff like this all your career but the defeated look on Oscar's face after an amazing race only to be asked a very inappropriate question about the two of you had you wanting to punch people.

After a long, long, talk with Mark and both your respective PR teams, you knew the best option would be to come out with it on your own. So you did exactly that.

y/n.jpg

y/n.jpg well since y’all got your fucking degrees and know every fucking thing 🙄

lando.jpg the duality of man ft y/n l/n and oscar piastri

oscarpiastri woooooooooooooooow suddenly everyone has a jpg

y/n.jpg hey I wanted to do this on my main but someone kept whining about pr 🫵

oscarpiastri that’s it your sleeping on the couch

lando.jpg damn idts old man y/n’s back can take that 😩

y/n.jpg I’M 25!!!

[tpwk-formula1]

Oscar piastri.

Gluten-free but can I put a slight change if you don't mind other kind of rivals with him being McLaren's driver and yn be in Ferrari's strategist they're rivals but they're also kind of friends.

red sauce

Prosciutto

anchovies

burata

Cheddar cheese

Dr. Pepper

Diet Coke

Mountain Dew with the reader being a sub

And yes to dessert

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

gluten-free rivals red sauce rough sex proscuitto "I love making this pretty pussy squirt" anchovies "How are you already drenched" burrata "How many was that? three... I think you can give me another" cheddar cheese “cumming for me already? Such a meedy slut” dr pepper dirty talk diet coke recording kink mt dew dom/sub dessert yes served by Oscar Piastri

Oscar x Ferrari engineer! reader

TW - more sweet than rough, multiple orgasms, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie, Oscar and Y/N are literally so in love with each other

WC 1800+

Y/N POV

"Piastri, are you color blind? You're in the red zone not papaya," I state while walking away from Carlos's car and heading to Charles's to make sure his wheel was connecting to my tablet and his helmet was connecting to the radio.

"I was hoping I could speak with you," Oscar tells me softly making me shake my head.

"Find me after the race." I state not even looking up from my tablet.

"Fine," Oscar says which has me looking up to watch as he walks away towards the exit.

"You and the young one?" I hear Fred ask behind me. I whip my body around and give Fred a sheepish look while blushes softly.

"I'm not sure what's going on between us," I admit softly watching as the smile spreads across his face.

"I've only heard good things from everyone about him," Fred says nodding his head making me smile softly and continue working.

Oscar and I had a strange relationship. We work for different teams which make us natural rivals but on a deeper level Oscar was a friend, a good friend, a friend I occasionally share a bed with. It all started professional but as time passed we started playing jump rope on the edge. Started with small kisses on the cheek, to his hands wandering a bit when he would hug me to eventually full sending it and going home with him one night.

The sex between Oscar and I is by far the best sex I have ever experienced. He knew how to be just rough enough to still be extremely enjoyable.

As the day wrapped up I check my phone to find a text from Oscar telling me to meet him at his hotel when I'm done for the day. When I'm finally all done after the race I leave the paddock and instantly make my way to Oscar's hotel room not even worried about changing out of my Ferrari uniform.

"I would say you look beautiful but you're in Ferrari Red," Oscar jokes when he opens the door after I knocked.

"Well hello to you too Oscar," I tease while pushing him in slightly so I could come into the room. Oscar just smiles down at me before pulling me in for a hug and placing a soft kiss on my lips,

"You wanted to talk remember," I tease making Oscar groan softly.

"Yes, but now I want you," Oscar mumbles against my lips and tries to pull me in closer but I resist and pull back.

"No, we talk first," I tell him softly making him take my hand into his and lead my to the couch.

"Truthfully I realized that not being able to see you before I get into the car ahead of a race I get anxious. I think I need you in more ways than just my bed at the end of the day," Oscar admits softly making me smile.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say but I know I like you and I want you in more ways than just in my bed too," I admit softly watching a smile spread across his face.

"We'll move slow, but I want to give us a real chance," Oscar tells me making me smile and nod my head.

"I would like that," I admit while pulling Oscar in for a kiss and climbing into his lap.

"Fuck, you're insatiable," Oscar groans against my lips when I start grinding down into his lap feeling his cock starting to grow against my clothed core.

"Gotta get you out of this shit," Oscar groans while pulling my shirt up and off my body before he starts up with me still in his arms and takes me to the bed where he yanks my pants down leaving me in my bra and thong while Oscar is still fully dressed.

I feel Oscar's mouth start trailing kisses down my neck before he separated and pulls his shirt off letting my eyes rack over his bare torso.

"Look so good Osc," I mumble while rubbing my hands on his shoulders.

"Fuck please let me take some pictures of you like this," Oscar groans when he finally focuses on my body under him.

"Only for your eyes though," I tell him softly. Oscar just nods before leaning down and placing a few kisses on my lips while grabbing his phone from his pant pocket.

He angles the phone above me and snaps a few pictures before putting the phone near my head and leaning back down to start trailing his mouth down to my pussy where he almost instantly sucks my clit into his mouth making me moan out loudly at the feeling.

"How are you already drenched," Oscar groans against my pussy making me whimper and moan rather loudly.

"Fuck Osc," I moan while gripping into his hair with one of my hands and grabbing his phone and taking a few pictures of Oscar between my thighs before switching to a video and videoing a few seconds of him eating me out before I put his phone back down and completely enjoy the feeling.

I could feel myself growing close to my orgasm and Oscar must sense it too because he speeds up his actions slightly helping bring me over the edge in a massive orgasm.

“Cumming for me already? Such a needy slut,” Oscar groans out while I'm a shaking mess under him. He helps me ride my first orgasm out but doesn't slow down when I start cumming down.

"Too much," I whine when I feel the overstimulation start to take over.

"You can take it," Oscar groans while speeding up his fingers fucking right on my G-spot bringing me closer to another orgasm.

"Fuck Oscar," I moan rather loudly when I feel him bring his other hand down to my clit. I pick up his phone again and start filming Oscar fingering me to another orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum," I moan out softly which has Oscar looking up at me and noticing the camera for the first time.

"Fuck, I'm gonna rewatch that video daily," Oscar groans while speeding up his fingers on my G-spot throwing me over the edge into another orgasm and squirting all over Oscar.

With my back arched and eyes close I do my best to angle to phone correctly but being so overhwlemed in pleasure I'm not entirely sure what I'm filiming.

"Fuck Oscar!" I scream when I finally catch my breath after cumming for the past 30 seconds or so.

"I love making this pretty pussy squirt," Oscar groans while slowing his fingers slightly letting me turn off the video again and put his phone down.

"Can't believe I did that," I say through labored breathing still not fully recovered from such an intense orgasm.

"I need you to fuck me now please," I gasp when Oscar just teases my pussy softly with his fingers.

"I need to see that at least one more time," Oscar groans as he speeds up his fingers hitting my G-spot at an impossibly fast speed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant when I feel my third orgasm of the night starting to build. I bring a free hand down to my clit and start rubbing small circles on my abused clit throwing me into another squirting orgasm almost instantly.

"Fuck, so hot," Oscar grunts while I'm still squirting my pleasure all over the place while screaming too overwhelmed to do anything but shake around Oscar's fingers.

"Fuck, Oscar that was so good," I whisper not trusting my voice in the moment.

"How many was that? three... I think you can give me another," Oscar states while sitting up and finally pulling his pants off and giving me his dick.

"Fuck, I'm so sentiive right now Oscar," I whimper just seeing his large throbbing dick hanging between his thighs.

"You can take it," Oscar states while pushing into me and thrusting instantly giving me no time to adjust to his rather large size.

"Oh fuck," I moan when I feel Oscar hitting all my sweet spots with his dick.

"Fuck, you look so pretty when you take my cock," Oscar grunts while speeding up his thrusts helping build the orgasm I'm already feeling.

"Fuck! Stretches so good," I moan while I feel Oscar's pubes tickle my clit every time he pushes in making the pleasure more intenze.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last long," Oscar grunts making my clench around him to watch as his face morphs do to the added pleasure.

"Fuck," Oscar grunts as his thrusts falter slightly before he sends one final thrust deep into my pussy making me cum the second I feel his hot cum start to paint the gummy walls of my pussy.

"Fuck," Oscar and I moan at the same time feeling the waves of our orgasms continuously wash over us. Oscar rocks his hips to make sure to ride our orgasms out before he slips out softly leaning down to grab his discarded shirt and cleaning me off the best as possible.

"We can sleep in my room tonight, I know I kinda soaked your sheets," I tell him softly while he's wiping himself down.

"Ya, we can do that. Just wanna relax for a few minutes before we get up," Oscar tells me making me smile and nod while opening my arms waiting for Oscar to join me for a cuddle. Oscar slowly lays down in my arms putting most of his weight on me.

"Pass me my phone please, wanna see you cumming all over my face," Oscar mumbles against my skin making me laugh softly and grab the phone that had been next to my head.

When Oscar opens his phone he groans when he realizes I had filmed more than just when I squirted all over his face.

"Fuck, I was so lost in the pleasure I didn't even noticed you had grabbed the phone again," Oscar whispers over the sound of us fucking. I just smile and lean down to pull him in for a kiss.

"I thought you would enjoy them on weekends I'm too busy to spend anytime with you," I tell him softly making him smile and pull me in tighter.

"I'll make sure we can at least sneak a couple minutes before a race so you can get a good luck kiss," I tell Oscar softly knowing that's always the real reason he comes into the Ferrari garage.

"Good, I want that," Oscar tells me with a small smile.

"Oh! Fred is in full support of us," I saw making Oscar look at me with a raised brow.

"He saw you in the garage and said "you and the young one?" and then told me how he had only heard good things about you, which is his way of saying I picked a good one," I explain softly making Oscar's face grow slightly read at the praise from a rival.

"I can't help but agree. I did pick a pretty good one," I add while leaning down and pulling Oscar back in for a kiss.

"Alright lets get you dressed and head to your room," Oscar says after a few minutes of us just chatting.

[cemeterygrace]

oscar piastri’s eyes appreciation post

[edensxgarden]

landoscar hires their girl as their personal assistant so she will quit her job and travel with them 🪼🪼🪼

Im sorry but i just COULDN'T help but turn this into dark!landoscar 💔. 

Lando and Oscar who love their girlfriend so, so much. They were so beyond obsessed with her and they would never even dream about doing ANYTHING to ever hurt her. 

Except.. maybe they could and maybe they actually were planning something that would definitely, definitely hurt you but.. in the end it would all be for the better!!! 

It all started when you missed a mclaren 1-2 because you just couldn't miss some important bullshit at work and they had to end the race weekend with their painfully aching cocks thrusting up into their hands instead of into you. 

So they decided on something very evil together on the way home, something they knew they should feel guilty for but they really couldn't bring themselves to care. 

So as soon as they got home they made a note to fill your needy cunt up so many times, your tight hole was literally pushing out their cum as you squeezed around their tongues, whimpering and whining out your little praises and congratulations between desperate pleas of their names. 

And once they were finally done with you, they tucked you in, kissing your forehead and letting you doze off, all innocent smiles and cuddles. 

But once you were finally out, Oscar grabbed your phone from the bedside table, quickly finding the your boss' number and sending the most heinous things he could possibly think of before handing the phone to Lando to do the same. 

So it was more than expected when you got home the next day hours early, sobbing about being fired, how you didn't even understand what you did. 

Good thing they deleted the messages. 

Oscar took you into his big strong arms as lando pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulders, both of them cooing about how everything will be ok. 

It took a few hours before lando finally slipped the idea into conversation, lightheartedly mentioning how at least now you could come to their races with them. 

You quickly realized, maybe it was all for the better. You could depend on your boyfriends, they had more than enough money to support you. You didn't need to have a job, you could always rely on them. 

You went to bed, tears dried and heart full, so beyond grateful for your sweet boyfriends who were always there for you <3 

And the next time oscar and lando got a 1-2, they had you there cheering them on and giving them something much better to come back to the hotel to. 

Lando gripped your hips from behind, using his bruising hold on you to slam his hips into you, until his dick was so deep inside you, his leaky tip was drooling in your tummy. 

And oscar was so deep in your throat, you were drooling and sputtering as his hands in your hair moved in tandem with landos to push you up and down their fat cocks.

 You were so cockdrunk. Your brain was so hazy and broken and your eyes were so teary, you couldn't even notice the little smirk lando and oscar gave eachother. They both smugly looked at eachother, knowing you would never ever know the way they flipped your entire life upside down. Now, you could forever be their sweet little cockslut, completely and utterly dependent on them forever. <3 

[norrisleclercf1]

Day 9 of 25 Days of Christmas: Playing in the Snow

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

Words: 629

Rating: PG

Warnings: None, just fluff

Oscar was home in a few minutes, and you needed him to hurry up. He was finishing up some last-minute things at McLaren before he could officially start his winter break. You got to annoy him with your presence. You were hiding behind one of the cars as you waited for him. It was a good snowfall last night, and you wanted to spend some time outside with him. And that's how you ended up here, bundled up with a haul of snowballs at your feet.

You peek over one of the cars and notice the bright color of a familiar McLaren. You quickly scramble back to hide from his view. The car pulls into the driveway, and you smirk as you hear the door open and then close; it's silent, and you move, turning only to not see Oscar there. "What the-" You whisper and turn the other way, only to freeze as you see Oscar smirking with a snowball. "So two things can happen here," Oscar says calmly as he tosses the snowball and then catches it.

"One, you stand down, and we can go have peppermint hot chocolate, or," He says and smirks, "I kick your ass in a snowball fight so bad, it'll be remembered in textbooks to come." He says, making you stare at him. "Bring it," you say, and quickly throw yours; it hits him square in his face, shocking him as the wet snow melts down his face. "Did you just?" He asks, and you scramble up as Oscar starts chasing you around the yard and road. Your screams of joy echo as you run away from him.

"No! Oscar, please!" you scream as he knocks you into the snow. "Payback!" he yells, shoving two handfuls of snow down your shirt. You both laugh loudly as you scream happily, and he smirks at you. "Gotcha," He smiles as you laugh, your faces red with happiness from the cold. "Make snow angels with me?" Eyes wide and pleading as he nods and flops down next to you. Both of you lay there waving his legs and arms and staring as the snow started falling slightly more.

"It's starting to snow again," Oscar mumbles as you nod wordlessly. "Want to go inside, baby?" He asks gently and sits up, careful not to ruin the snow angel. "Yeah, can we still have peppermint hot chocolate?" Oscar gives his bunny smile and nods, helping you stand, and you dance around your angels and head inside. The warmth blasts your faces, making you both moan as it seeps in through your clothes. "Come on, warm clothes, and then I'll make our drinks," Oscar says, kissing your head as you walk stiffly to the bedroom.

Moving, you steal one of his long-sleeved black winter shirts and your fuzzy pants with wool socks. Oscar comes in behind you, dresses in joggers with a sweater, and pulls you back, and you about a moan, seeing the heated blanket out with other snacks as well. You move, flopping onto the couch, and smile. "Let me go get the drinks," He mumbles and moves to the small kitchen as the smell of chocolate and peppermint fills your nose.

The scent grows stronger as you look up and see Oscar holding two mugs and sitting beside you. "I'm freezing," You groan and curl up into him, making Oscar smile down at you. "Gee, wonder why," He mumbles, tugging you close as you both hold your mugs. "Congrats, McLaren World Champ," You whisper, making Oscar smile into his mug. "Has a nice sound to it," He whispers, and you hum, "It does? Doesn't it," "I think I'd prefer Drivers Champ," You smile and tug him into you. "You'll get there, I know you will,"

[f1archives]

Oscar Piastri in the garage before practice - Singapore, September 2024 (📷 Mark Sutton)

[vitalverstappen]

Tradition - O. Piastri

summary: with you and Oscar having different traditions when it comes to the holidays, you figured you'd show him some of your favorites

pairing: oscar piastri x girlfriend!reader

warnings: none :) just pure fluff

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i have a few more holiday fics to post between now and Christmas, so keep a look out!

masterlist

It was common knowledge that the land down under experienced the holiday season a little differently than the rest of the world. Winter coats were swapped out for swimming trunks, the snow traded for sand, and the ham for a barbeque.

With the holidays falling over F1’s winter break, you often found yourself indulging in the Australian traditions in Oscar’s childhood home with his family. 

But this year, Oscar decided to stay in the States for part of the break, allowing you to show your boyfriend some of your favorite holiday traditions. Oscar had always been a good sport about trying new things, so when you invited him to experience your Christmas traditions, he was more than eager to dive in.

Your hometown was nothing like the beaches and sunny skies of Australia, but it had its own charm - especially during the holidays. There was something about the frost in the mornings mixed with the twinkling lights lining every street that made everything feel extra magical. 

Just like every holiday season, you were tasked with making all of the sweet treats that you would end up giving away to your relatives and neighbors. You and Oscar were in your parent’s kitchen, your family recipe book cracked open and all of the cookie ingredients spread out on the counter. You had to suppress a laugh as he looked up from the recipe book, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. 

“Is it a bad time to admit I’ve never made cookies before?” He asked, a sheepish smile on his face

You smiled, flicking a small bit of flour at him. “Well, it’s about time you learned then,” you teased, grabbing a bowl and scooping in the sugar. “I’ll guide you through it. You’ll be a pro by the end of the day.” 

Oscar chuckled, brushing the flour off his shirt and moving to grab the butter. “I’m trusting you here,” he said, his voice light, but there was a playful glint in his eye as he handed you the mixer. “If these cookies turn out terrible, I’m blaming you.” 

You laughed and shook your head. “Deal. But if they turn out perfect, I’ll take all the credit.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, with Oscar following your instructions as you mixed the dough together. Once the mixing was done, you dumped the dough out onto the floured counter. 

“Alright Osc, put those muscles to use.” you teased, handing him the rolling pin

There was something unexpectedly charming about watching him, the professional athlete, fumble with the rolling pin and get flour all over his hands. 

Oscar shot you a playful look as he struggled to roll out the dough evenly, his brow furrowed in concentration. “This is harder than it looks,” he muttered, clearly trying his best. 

You laughed, leaning against the counter, admiring him as he worked. “I think you’re doing great for a first timer.” 

Once the dough was rolled out and the flour was gone from Oscar’s hands, you grabbed the tupperware full of cookie cutters, dumping them out on the table. Your boyfriend’s eyes lit up at the numerous different shapes you had to offer - from stars, to candy canes, to trees. 

Your eyes scanned the pile, looking for one cookie cutter in particular - the angel. It was your favorite, as a kid you would hog the cutter, and everyone knew the cookies had been made by you if they were given one in that shape. As you dug through the pile, the cookie cutter was nowhere to be found.

Frowning slightly, you continued to dig through the pile, hoping it would magically appear. You could feel Oscar’s gaze on you as you pulled out a snowflake and a reindeer shape. 

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice. 

You let out a small sigh. “I can’t find my favorite cookie cutter. The angel one - it’s kind of a tradition that it’s the first shape we always make.”

Oscar glanced down to his hands, where a metal cookie cutter rested between his fingers. “Uh, you mean this one?” he asked 

Your eyes followed his gaze, landing on the piece of metal. It was the angel cookie cutter. “Yeah, that’s the one.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it had meaning,” he said as he stretched out his hand for you to take the cookie cutter, a rosy glow on his cheeks that you knew wasn’t from the cold outside. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, but didn’t take the cutter out of his hands. “Go ahead, make the first cut.”

Oscar’s eyes squinted slightly. “But didn’t you say it’s the first one you do?” 

You chucked, shaking your head. “I never said who made the first one. It just has to be the angel.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “So you’re saying I get to make the first one?” 

You nodded, still holding his gaze. “You get the honor. It’s a special tradition, after all.” 

His smile widened, and he positioned the cutter over the dough. “Well, I better not fuck it up.” he joked, and with exaggerated precision, he pressed the cutter down, then carefully lifted it away, revealing the angel shape. 

While your eyes rolled, your smile only grew at his overly serious approach. “Perfect.” you said, watching as he looked at his work with a mix of pride and amusement. 

With the first cut made, the rest of the dough was soon transformed into a variety of festive shapes. Both of you anxiously awaited for the treats to be done in the oven, the smell of them baking taunting you with every whiff. 

Once they were baked and cooled, you walked Oscar through various ways to decorate the various shapes. You chose piping bags full of frosting and festive designs that brought the cookies to life, but you couldn’t help but giggle at Oscar’s creative choices. Though they were colorful, they were definitely a bit on the messy side - a generous layer of frosting here, a heavy-handed mountain of sprinkles there. But his grin was infectious, and there was something endearing about the way he dove into decorating without a care for perfection.

A few days later, you and Oscar found yourselves, along with your parents, in the local botanical gardens. Every year, they would go all out for the holidays, decorating with thousands of lights, ribbons, ornaments, and anything else you could think of. The whole place transformed into a glittering winter wonderland, with towering Christmas trees, shimmering garlands draped along every path, and twinkling fairy lights illuminating the flowers and plants in a magical way. 

Oscar’s eyes widened as you walked through the entrance, the beauty of the displays almost taking his breath away. “This is incredible,” he murmured, his gaze darting from one stunning display to the next.

You smiled, watching the wonder on his face. “Yeah, it’s pretty impressive, isn’t it? Every year, they do a different theme, but it always looks stunning.” You reached for his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch as you walked side by side, taking it all in. 

Your parents, who had grown accustomed to the spectacular sight, were already snapping pictures, marveling at how much work had gone into the displays. But for you, this place held a special place in your heart. Even though Oscar took you to the Royal Botanical Gardens Christmas displays when you spent the holidays in Australia, you had always preferred the one in your hometown - walking through the gardens with your family, admiring the decorations, and soaking in the holiday spirit. 

As if he read your mind, Oscar leaned down slightly, his voice low so only you could hear. “I can see why you love this place so much. It’s something out of a Hallmark movie.” 

“Yeah, all we need is the snow” you laughed, nudging Oscar playfully, earning a smile from him. 

“It’s got to be cold enough for it.” He chuckled back

As you continued to wander through the gardens, your parents led the way, stopping at various displays to take photos. The air was crisp, and the scent of pine and cinnamon seemed to hang in the atmosphere. His bright orange (or papaya as he insists per McLaren) coat was a stark contrast against your black one as you walked hand in hand. The familiar warm fingers of his were slowly turning cold with every display. 

You could feel the chill beginning to creep into Oscar’s hand, and you squeezed it gently, offering him a soft smile. “Are you getting a little chilly?” 

Oscar chuckled slightly, his breath visible in the crisp air. “A little bit, yeah,” he admitted, trying to hide the slight shiver in his voice. “Guess I should’ve gone for more than just the winter jacket, huh?” 

You smiled, rubbing your gloved thumb over his bare skinned fingers. “I told you a hat and gloves never hurt anyone.” you teased “But I know just the fix.” 

Before Oscar could respond, you let him towards the cozy kiosk tucked under the trees, where steaming cups of hot chocolate and spiced cider were being served. The smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and chocolate filled the air.

You both ordered hot chocolates, topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with cinnamon, and walked towards the greenhouses up the hill. The warmth from your drinks radiated through the cups, and the steam danced into the cold air through the sipping hole as you walked with Oscar hand in hand. The bright lights from the displays behind you created a soft glow against the darkening sky, making the scene feel even more magical. Oscar took a sip of his hot chocolate, and a content sigh escaped him. 

“This is what I needed.” he said, his cheeks flushed from the cold, but his voice warm with satisfaction. “Never thought I’d be trying to warm up around the holidays. It’s always trying to stay cool.” 

You laughed softly, taking a sip of your own hot chocolate as you walked beside him. “Yeah I bet it’s a bit of a shock.” you said feeling the warmth of the drink spread through you. 

Oscar glanced at you, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “But I think I’m getting the hang of it. The holiday cheer, the decorations, the whole deal. It’s definitely different than the beach and BBQ’s, but it’s a welcome change.”

You nudged him gently, feeling the cold press in but still comfortable with him by your side. “You’re a fast learner.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the lights around you. “Hey, if it means I get to experience Christmas with you and your family, I’ll learn whatever I have to.” 

The traditions and holiday excitement came to a close on Christmas Night. It was long after Oscar tried your mom’s famous Christmas honey ham and had stuffed his face with the cookies you had made days prior. 

The fire crackled in the fireplace as you walked over to Oscar, who was cozied up with a blanket on the couch. Your parents had gone to the neighbors for some drinks - a tradition that predated your existence - giving you and Oscar some time alone. 

Oscar, his face still rosy from the warmth of the meal, looked over at you with a half-smile. “That ham might’ve just changed my life,” he said with a gleam in his eye. 

“Yeah, it’s always a hit. My mom’s been perfecting it for years.” you said as you sat down next to him, moving the blanket so that it was covering the both of you. “I’ll have to give you the recipe.” 

“And the pumpkin pie recipe. That was incredible.” Oscar added, pulling you in closer. 

You chuckled before planting a soft kiss on his cheek “I’ll see what I can do.” you said as you reached for the TV remote. “But there is one last thing I always do before I wrap up the holidays.” 

Oscar raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Oh? What’s that?” 

You smiled, feeling the familiar excitement bubble up inside you. It was a tradition you’d carried with you for as long as you could remember, and now it felt right to share it with him. “We watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” you said, already flipping through the streaming services to find it.

Oscar’s face lit up with genuine surprise. “Really?” he laughed, leaning back against the couch, clearly amused. “I’ve never watched The Grinch. I mean I know the story, but never sat down to see it.”

“You’ve never seen The Grinch?!” you exclaimed, eyes wide in disbelief. “That’s a crime, Oscar!” You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. The movie was a staple of your childhood, how could someone not see it?

Oscar grinned, unbothered by your exaggerated shock. “Well, I guess I’ve been living under a rock.” He shrugged playfully, the grin never leaving his face. “But hey, I’ll give it a shot.”

“You better give it a shot.” You leaned over and snatched a nearby blanket, wrapping it around the both of you tighter as the movie’s opening credits began to roll on the screen. “Now I’m not gonna lie, the Grinch did scare me as a kid.” you admitted, settling back into the couch with a sigh. “But I’ve gotten past that.” 

He let out a small laugh, his arm around you as you both snuggled under the blanket. “Scared? Really? I mean he’s definitely a bit creepy, but I didn’t think he was that terrifying.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You didn’t grow up with him lurking in your childhood nightmares,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “But now that I’m older, I’ve come to appreciate the weirdness of it all. Plus the heart growing scene at the end? Always gets me.”

Oscar nodded thoughtfully as he glanced at the screen. “I’m ready for my heart to melt then”

As the story of How the Grinch Stole Christmas unfolded, you could see Oscar becoming genuinely entertained by the outlandish prosthetic makeup, the ridiculousness of the Grinch’s antics, and the heart warming turn of events where the Grinch’s heart grows three sizes. 

“That was… actually really good.” he said with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can see why you watch it every year.”

“I told you,” you said, reaching for his hand as the end credits rolled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar squeezed your hand back, his fingers warm against yours. “I’m glad I could spend this holiday with you.” he said, his voice sincere and gentle.

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder as the screen faded to black. “Me too,” you murmured, your heart full of warmth as the holiday spirit wrapped around you, just like the blanket on the couch.