#oscar piastri one shots

[vettelsvee]

YOU WROTE A SONG ABOUT ME? | Oscar Piastri

f1 one shots masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

oscar piastri x singer!reader

requested by anon: x singer!reader, maybe Oscar and his family going to her show and she sings a song about him

word count: 2402

warnings: none of them! use of y/n and y/l/n

posible part 2 if you like it and ask for it!

you can send your one shots requests here!

Oscar was nervous. Very, in fact.

It wasn't the first time he attended a concert of Y/N, his girlfriend, but every time he did he ended up getting more nervous than he should.

Perhaps the fact that today was his twenty-third birthday and he hadn't received any kind of congratulations from her had a lot to do with it.

The Australian took a deep breath and continued on, trying to catch up with his sisters and parents as quickly as possible, who had barely noticed that the boy had fallen behind, immersed in his thoughts.

Nicole quickly turned around, going to where her son was as calmly as she could, and above all making sure not to do or say anything she would regret, especially not something that would ruin the surprise her daughter-in-law had been keeping so well.

"What's wrong, honey?"

Oscar slightly startled as he felt his mother's hand on his shoulder, even letting out a small scream that startled the woman.

"Yes, of course!" the boy hurried to say, trying to calm down. "Just... I'm a little nervous, but that's all, really."

Despite the Australian's efforts to sound as calm as possible, it was in vain. Nicole could see his anxiety in his gaze and, above all, in his gestures. His hands were barely still, and every time she tried to walk beside him, he ended up putting a little more distance between them.

"I'm your mother, Oscar, you know I can catch any lie like I've done so many times before. Why are you so nervous?"

He sighed. He didn't want to share his concern, especially when they were heading to see the main reason of it.

"Well..." he tried to find the right words, finding it quite difficult. "It's just that I haven't received any message from Y/N today. Today, of all days, you know? On my birthday."

"Oh, what a shame..." the woman replied, feigning surprise. "She must have forgotten or had some problem. Have you talked to her?"

Was she really asking him that? He just told her he hadn't received any message from the brunette...

"Yes, but she hasn't replied."

"Don't worry! I'm sure there's a reason for it," assured the Piastri matriarch. "Don't let this ruin your day. If that girl doesn't call you as soon as it strikes twelve, I promise she'll have to deal with me."

"Mom..."

"No mom, Oscar," she scolded him in an ironic tone, making him laugh. "Now try to enjoy her concert and have a good time with us, okay?"

The brown-haired young man nodded, grateful for his mother's support, and continued on his way to the Rod Laver Arena, now a bit happier than before.

After passing through security checks and receiving the VIP accreditations reserved for the Piastri family, and the occasional stops for the pilot to take some photos and sign autographs with fans who recognized him, which were quite a few, they made their way to their reserved spot, located in the lower side stands just a few meters from the main stage.

"Wow, I didn't know you were so famous to have so many people following you," joked his father, making his sisters laugh.

"You should take a break!" shouted his mother, hugging him and making his cheeks turn red. "You're at your girlfriend's concert, not at one of your stupid races."

"They're the ones who make me who I am, Mom. Besides, I'm a public figure," added the brown-eyed one. "I can't ignore them and act like nothing, you know? It's not that easy."

Oscar said that, but he still felt uneasy. As he looked at his family, already occupying their seats as there was still about half an hour before the concert started, the need to see his girlfriend or at least hear some news about her was taking over him more and more.

"Mom, I'm going to see if I can find out anything about Y/N," he said impulsively, interrupting himself with his own words. "I'll be right back."

Nicole looked at him with surprise, telling him no, to wait there, and they would see what to do after the concert. But the young man had already gained some momentum and was navigating through everyone in his way around the stands, seats, stairs, and multiple corridors until he reached the place where, supposedly, his girl was.

Once he reached the supposed dressing room, a perfectly uniformed black security guard, with a completely serious expression and crossed arms, stood in front of the door.

"Um... I'm Oscar," he greeted with a wave, trying to curve his lips without trembling. "I'm Y/N’s boyfriend," he timidly pointed to the door behind him with his hand. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Piastri, but Y/N has agreed that there are no visitors before the concert today," the man responded firmly, still looking at Oscar seriously and shaking his head.

"It's just a moment. I want to wish her good luck before she goes on stage," he insisted, hoping the guard might make an exception.

"I'm sorry, sir. Rules are rules, and if the young lady said no, then it's no. I can't make any exceptions, even for you."

The Australian thanked the unfriendly man with a slight nod and, feeling defeated, made his way back to where his family was. As soon as he arrived, he had his sisters pestering him:

"Did you see Y/N? Did she say anything to you? Did she leave you wanting something, and that's why you look so depressed now?"

The eldest sister's insistence was making him feel even worse than he already did; having the other two join in the sudden conversation with curious faces and even more unsettling questions made him want to leave the place.

The young man simply remained silent. He sat in his seat and kept his gaze fixed on the stage, waiting for the lights to go out and the concert to begin.

It was a matter of the singer stepping onto the stage for the crowd to rise to their feet, applauding and chanting her name, shouting compliments and praises of all kinds.

"Good evening, Melbourne!" exclaimed Y/N, who was on a platform that had risen from the bottom of the stage. "I hope you all have a great time with me tonight because I assure you that today will be full of surprises!"

Nicole Piastri got up from her seat, as did the rest of the family, and told Oscar to do the same. He refused, remaining seated with his arms crossed, but unable to stop a smile from appearing on his lips.

He might be upset with his girlfriend's behavior for who knows what reason, but it was impossible for him not to look away from her while she danced, sang, and interacted with the audience.

It was too difficult for him not to feel proud of her and everything she had achieved.

The show continued as Oscar knew it would, having memorized it from the numerous times he had not only attended various concerts of his girlfriend's tour around the world but also from the countless rehearsals he had accompanied her to.

However, Piastri did not expect that suddenly the lights would go out and an orange glow would begin to emerge everywhere, especially illuminating the stage.

Y/N appeared again, now wearing an orange bodysuit with perfectly placed blue tones that accentuated her figure.

"Do you know what day’s today?" asked the brunette, looking with wide eyes at the audience.

"April 6th!"

She nodded, a playful smile forming on her lips more and more as she was about to reveal, and trying not to turn her head towards where her boyfriend was, whom she had deliberately avoided all day and who, possibly, would tell her to screw off after all the ghosting she had done to him on his birthday.

"And, by any chance... do you know what happens today?"

There were a variety of responses. A large part of them answered that it was Oscar's birthday, her partner's. Others were somewhat wild, as if she was about to reveal that the couple was expecting a baby, or that the young woman was going to announce her retirement from the stage after her very short musical career.

"No, it's none of that," the Australian ended up saying. "I am pleased to announce that today, here, right now, I am going to debut my new single, 'Throttle Hearts'!"

The stadium erupted in cheers and applause once again. No one, not even Oscar, expected this revelation from the girl, so it was completely normal for people to ask her to sing the song already.

Y/N, however, asked them for a moment with her hand.

Quickly, she ran to her cell phone and, secluded in a small corner of the stage, tried to make sure that the camera recording to broadcast her image on the large screens captured nothing.

At that very moment, Oscar's phone vibrated in his pocket with a notification from the same girl who was on stage:

"Happy birthday, my love! I'm so sorry for ghosting you all day, but I hope it was worth it. If you understand any references in the song, it's normal bc it's based on our story. I hope this is the best gift you can receive, at least for now, in your life. I can't wait to get off stage and give you the biggest hug in the world <3"

And there was Y/N, making eye contact with him, having a minimal interaction with her boyfriend for the first time all day. The girl had her arm raised, waving enthusiastically and making heart gestures with both hands that ended sooner than expected as she went to the piano to play the first chords of the song.

Oscar found himself trying to hide some tears, which were forming in his eyes not only as Y/N’s voice adjusted to the melody but throughout the rest of the concert.

The only thing the boy could reply to that message was whether she had really written a song about him, receiving as a response during a break between songs a large number of heart shaped emojis.

When the show came to an end and the singer disappeared beneath the stage, the Piastri family quickly grabbed their belongings to leave the venue and go to where the boy's girlfriend was. The same security guard who had previously denied him access to see the singer to the Formula 1 driver was now standing next to them, telling them to follow him.

Obviously, they didn't hesitate to say yes and followed his steps to the young woman's dressing room, who allowed her boyfriend's family to enter, welcoming them with a radiant smile and hugs that had been delayed all day.

The only thing the young couple did as words were exchanged was to look at each other, shy to show their love in front of others, as it had always been with them.

"I think we should leave the lovebirds alone for a while," Nicole began as she headed towards the exit of the room. "Don't take too long, the reservation for dinner at Oscar's favorite restaurant is at ten fifteen, and you know we take quite a while to get there."

Both of them thanked her shyly, unsure of what to do or say beyond being unable to stop smiling.

When they were alone, facing each other, they didn't know what they should say to each other. Oscar Piastri didn't know if he should reproach his girlfriend for not speaking to him all day despite preparing a surprise for him. Y/N Y/L/N was aware that perhaps she should apologize for not having done things quite right and for keeping the brown-haired boy on edge by maintaining some sort of no-contact for the past 24 hours.

Finally, it was the McLaren driver who broke the not-so-uncomfortable silence:

"Y/N, that song..." He was at a loss for words. He didn't know what else to say other than that he had loved it.

The girl smiled shyly, grateful not only that he had liked the composition she had kept to herself for the past seven months, but also for seeming to have understood.

"I've been wanting to sing it to you for a long time, but I didn't know if you’d like it," the young woman admitted. "It has had a couple of important modifications since the first draft, and since the record label wasn't cooperating much when I wanted to release it initially, I thought it would be a good birthday gift for you," she explained. "Hey, and I'm sorry if this whole game of ignoring you all day has offended you. I feel really bad, and the last thing I want is..."

"Shut up, silly!" Oscar interrupted her, approaching her to wrap her in his arm and give her a tender kiss on the forehead. "At first, I thought you wanted to break up with me, but then seeing how my mom was acting, that gorilla you have as a bodyguard denying me access, and above all you ignoring me all day..."

"I'm good at keeping secrets, and I'm absolutely in love with you, Oscar Piastri," Y/N declared, mock-offended. "Do you really think I would ignore you all day?"

"Not a chance. I know there's a good intention behind everything you do," agreed the Australian, earning himself a hug and a kiss on the lips from his girlfriend. "Did you know that I'm also good at keeping secrets?"

"Oh, really? And are you absolutely in love with me like I am with you, Piastri?"

Oscar grinned mischievously, an idea starting to appear in his mind like a flash that was making more and more sense.

Obviously, the driver was a tad resentful, and the girl wasn't going to get away with it no matter how good the intention was behind Throttle Hearts and its surprise presentation.

Now, Oscar had to prepare a surprise for the girl's twenty-second birthday that would match, or even surpass, the one she had prepared for him.

"I don't know," he shrugged, laughing more and more emphatically and perhaps frustrating his girlfriend, "I guess now you'll have to wait for your birthday to find out."

[imaginaryf1shots]

Married? | Oscar Piastri

WC: 2.1K

Oscar x Wife!Reader

Summery: He never met to hide it, it's just the way he is.

Warning: none

Masterlist

Oscar Masterlist

It was always a known thing, there was never any doubt in anyone that knew him, Oscar has always been destined to be an F1 driver. It was written. Anyone that knows him knows this. And you've known him almost all your life. Before he went to Europe and before he started travelling around for Karting and racing in the Formula series. It seems like there was never a point in your life where Oscar wasn't in it. What started as playground friendship turned to crushing on each other, turned to liking each other and then turned into a relationship. Not high school sweethearts, more like six grade sweethearts. No one expected your relationship to last due to you being so young, and still growing up and developing. Yet, the distance only made you grow fonder of each other. Your relationship survived him moving to the UK for school and racing, it survived the time difference and all the growing up you had to do. Video calls are your thing, you're the kind of people to have it on for hours doing mundane things not necessarily talking but just having the feeling that the other was there.

Now when you became 18, the next step wasn't surprising to those around you. You and Oscar talked about it for so long, you finished school already, so what was stopping you? Nothing. With the help of your parents you both got married, and so you relocated to the UK with Oscar. 

You went to Uni and he was off racing. Coming home to you was always the highlight of the day for Oscar, he'd leave his bags by the door and search for you in the apartment before he'd just all but throw himself at you just wanting some love and attention.

You'd be sitting on the sofa folding some laundry, the TV playing, the door would open and close and you would be none the wiser. Oscar would follow the sound of the TV finding you engrossed in the show that's playing, your hands moving on their own as you fold his shirt. Oscar would move to the sofa and you'd gasp in surprise, finally noticing him before he threw himself on the sofa, his head in your lap, his face hiding in your stomach.

"God, Osc, you scared me." You'd say but smile nonetheless, Oscar would mumble a 'sorry' and you'd barely understand it. Your hands go to his hair and you run your fingers through his locks, scratching ever so slightly. Oscar would groan and you lean down to kiss his head. "How was the flight?"

"Long." You hum and just let him have his time getting what he needs. Now it's not often that he'd fall asleep like that, but the flight was long and he didn't get any sleep, he doesn't remember when it happened, but he falls asleep. You'd stay like that for an hour or two, the TV still playing but the sound is lower until he'd wake up. Once he starts waking up, he starts moving around, he moves to his back and slowly opens his eyes, blinking up at you.

"Hey sleepyhead."

"Hey, I didn't realise I slept."

"Yeah, didn't even give me a hello kiss or anything." You teased him, Oscar sleepily sits up and places a hand on your cheek before he presses his lips to yours, once, twice, three times before deepens it. You sigh in content. Happy to have him in your arms after almost a week.

Oscar didn't mean to hide it, he just didn't wear his ring, he lost it twice at races and since then he only wore it when he's not on a racing week. He's also not very talkative, he doesn't find himself sharing things about himself willingly, but if you ask he'll answer, you just have to prompt him. Maybe it was because he was a rookie, or because there was many things happening, but no one realised he was seeing someone in 2023, you've been to races, you didn't really like the limelight, not while you're still studying at least, so you'd go into the paddock alone, but you'd still be a guest of McLaren. Some people just assumed you're a family member (which is correct, but not how they thought) or just a close friend.

All of that came to an end when you finally finished Uni, and were free to travel more, and coming into the paddock with Oscar wasn't such a scary thing anymore. It all came with the fact that you got a new ring for Oscar and kind of 'proposed' to him with it in your living room, Oscar decided to try wearing his ring, he wouldn't have to take it off anyways. It's his wedding ring, and according to the rules he could keep it on.

It was a Grand Prix weekend, Oscar's family flew out for the race. You walked in with them, Nicole was by your side, a couple photographers took photos, manly because they're Oscar's family, not that they know about you. Getting into McLaren, someone tells Oscar that you're all here, you were back in Australia for 2 weeks, while he was at the factory working, it's more than you both had gotten used to in recent years. Oscar comes in and he ignores his family heading straight to you, you smile up at him and he leans in, giving you a hug and a quick kiss.

"Glad to know, you missed us." Nicole teased Oscar, and he went to hug her. She's always happy seeing how still in love you both are, it warms her heart. Her son is in a happy marriage while achieving his dream away from her. Oscar stands with you all as much as he could before he had to go back to work. You all made it to the hospitality.

"I heard Oscar's family is here." Lando walks in at one point, with a smile on his face, he greets everyone, stopping at you, seeing no similarities between you and Oscar. "I know I saw you before, but I don't know who you are."

"It's alright, I'm Oscar's w-."

"Girlfriend?" Lando cuts you off with a smile. "I knew he's in a relationship but he hasn't introduced you."

"No, I'm not-"

"Oh, are you not his girlfriend? I'm sorry."

"It's not tha-"

"I just want to meet his girlfriend, he never talks about anything unless you ask him and-"

"Lando, I'm his-"

"He seems like he's in a relationship, at least that's what I understood from him."

"I'm his wife."

"But I could be wrong and this is all a- wait... what?" Lando stops once he realises what you said, his eyes are wide while you just smile at him.

"I'm his wife." You say again, and his sisters all just giggle to themselves, finding it all very amusing. Lando looks at Nicole and Chris, as if he's waiting for them to say something, to say it's a joke, to deny it, anything.

"I told Oscar to just come out and say he's married." Nicole said shaking her head slightly, this is about to come out, and she knows Oscar will once again turn the internet on it's head.

"he's-you're-and." Lando looks to have malfunctioned. "I need a moment to come to terms with this."

Lando walks away in a daze, it leaves you all amused. You text Oscar telling him what happened with Lando.

Oscar didn't read your message, Lando walked in on him and his engineer while they were in a meeting.

"You-you- you have a wife?" Lando asked, and Oscar's gaze turned from confused to amused really quickly.

"Yeah." Oscar answered simply.

"What?" It was Tom's turn to be surprised.

"I'm married." Oscar held out his left hand showing his ring.

"I thought that was a family heirloom or something." Lando was exasperated.

"No, I lost one or two rings, so y/n, bought me a new one recently." Oscar explained.

"y/n? the girl you bring with you to races from time to time?" Tom asked remembering you, he saw you a few times, but there was never a sign that you're dating Oscar, never mind married to him.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It just never came up." Oscar shrugged, leaving both men flabbergasted, astonished by the realisation.

"You're one of a kind, Oscar, seriously." Tom shook his head and sighed. "We have to get back to our meeting, this will have to wait."

It didn't take long for the news to travel, those that were in the hospitality and saw the whole thing go down with Lando went on and spread the news around. And Lando asked a few people if they knew, apparently only Zac knew, he thought Oscar wanted to keep it a secret so he said nothing.

The news took a while before it reached Williams.

"Mate, did you know Oscar is married?" Alex asked Logan, Logan frowned and looked up.

"Yeah." Logan answered as if it was a stupid question.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought it was a known thing, I don't know." Logan shrugged. "He's been married since he was 18."

"18!" This was an even bigger shock to the Williams driver.

"Yeah, the moment y/n turned 18, they got married."

"Wow."

And thus the news once again spread, this time the other way around, all the way back to McLaren.

By the time of the driver's parade almost everyone knew that the youngest member on track was married. Oscar was the last on the back of the truck/car thing. All eyes on the Aussie.

"What's... going on?" He asked as he moved down to an empty spot.

"Are you really married?" Charles asked.

"Yeah." It seemed like this was Oscar's favourite answer.

"So I have a daughter in law?" Charles asked and Oscar laughed before nodding. "Wow, they grow up so fast nowadays."

"And you've been married since you were 18?" Max was the one to ask, he's as curious as everyone.

"Yes, the month she turned 18, we got married, and she moved to the UK." Oscar informed them. "And before you ask, I knew her since we were like 5, and have been together since we were 10-11."

"That's crazy." George said to Alex next to him.

By the time the race was underway, a few cameras made it to the McLaren garage for a sight of you. As Oscar was leading the race, the camera flashed to you, with your name and Oscar Piastri's partner under it. The ones watching from home were left confused, but not for long. Oscar won his second race of his Formula 1 career in his 2nd season.

You made it to Parc Ferme, with his parents, his sisters opting to stay in the garage and not get squished. Oscar was the last of the top to make it back, he went to his team before he went straight to you, as always leaving his parents to be hugged after you.

"Congratulations, my love." You tell him, and he squeezes you tighter, the helmet is in the way, but you still kiss the side of it. Oscar then moves to his parents before he goes to get weighed and interviewed by Nico Rosburg.

"-and before we let you go, and not to take away from your win, I have to ask." Nico said and Oscar smiled, he knew what was about to be asked. "Set the records straight, are you married?"

"Yes, have been since I was 18." Oscar said and looked your way, and the camera panned to you, as you stood between his parents smiling with love and adoration for your husband.

"Well, it might be late, but congratulations." Nico said and patted his back, before Oscar made it to the cool-down room.

Cameras snapped a lot of pictures of you, as they waited for the podiums to start. It was obvious how familiar you are with Oscar's parents, and how they treated you like one of their daughters. The interaction was just filled with love and care. This has been going on for years, there's no denying it.

"I didn't know it would be such big news." You said that night, as you and Oscar cuddled on the Sofa, having a quiet moment in the hotel with his family.

"I knew." Nicole said.

"I did too." Chris said.

"Me too." Hattie said.

"Of course it would."

"Obviously."

"Noted." You said and Oscar smiled, kissing the side of your head. "Now everyone knows you have a wife."

"And everyone from your university knows you have a husband."

"You two are still as awful as ever." Hattie said and rolled her eyes teasingly.

"You should've been used to it by now." Nicole said and smiled at her family.

Main Taglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . 

[pucksandpower]

The Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

→ Formula 1 after dark 💋

Day 1 → Cockwarming 💋 Toto Wolff

Day 2 → Chastity 💋 Max Verstappen

Day 3 → Oral Fixation 💋 Charles Leclerc

Day 4 → Bruise Marking 💋 Lando Norris

Day 5 → Size Difference 💋 Oscar Piastri

Day 6 → Daddy Kink 💋 Carlos Sainz

Day 7 → Virginity Loss 💋 Toto Wolff

Day 8 → Breeding Kink 💋 Max Verstappen

Day 9 → Overstimulation 💋 Charles Leclerc

Day 10 → Exhibitionism 💋 Kimi Räikkönen

Day 11 → Sex Pollen 💋 Max Verstappen

Day 12 → Mirror Sex 💋 Oscar Piastri

Day 13 → Temperature Play 💋 Charles Leclerc

Day 14 → Innocence Play 💋 Lewis Hamilton

Day 15 → Thigh Riding 💋 Max Verstappen

Day 16 → Remote-Controlled Vibrator 💋 Jenson Button

Day 17 → Lactation Kink 💋 Lando Norris

Day 18 → Praise Kink 💋 Charles Leclerc

Day 19 → Spreader Bar 💋 Toto Wolff

Day 20 → Menthol Cream 💋 Oscar Piastri

Day 21 → Anal 💋 Lando Norris

Day 22 → Bedding Ceremony 💋 Charles Leclerc

Day 23 → Consensual Non-Consent 💋 Max Verstappen

Day 24 → Piercing 💋 Toto Wolff

Day 25 → Monsterfucking 💋 Carlos Sainz

Day 26 → Cum Marking 💋 Charles Leclerc

Day 27 → Hunter/Prey 💋 Max Verstappen

Day 28 → A/B/O 💋 Oscar Piastri

Day 29 → BDSM 💋 Toto Wolff

Day 30 → Innocence Kink 💋 Lando Norris

Day 31 → Mind Break 💋 Charles Leclerc

Tumblr won’t let me link the final five fics for some reason but they have been published!

[afterglowsainz]

imperfect for you | oscar piastri

pairing: norris!reader x oscar piastri

summary: you’re too focused on being the paddock’s cupid that you fail to notice your perfect match is right there, on your brother’s teammate

fc: madisyn menchaca

a/n: i’m choosing to ignore all the trouble and negativity surrounding oscar’s win and just focus on the fact that oscar piastri is a formula 1 grand prix winner!!!

—

liked by ynnorris, charles_leclerc and others

f1 the ferrari couple arrives in blue classiness 💙

tagged charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

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username omg alex’s first appearance in the paddock !!!

username she’s truly one of the most beautiful women i’ve seen

username let’s all thank yn’s mind for bringing these two together 💕

ynnorris my babies 🥹🫶🏽 (liked by charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux)

username still can’t believe if it wasn’t for yn they wouldn’t be together

username i just love when hot people date each other 😍

username and they’re matching too 🥺

liked by oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes and others

ynnorris currently in monaco looking for my next project ❤️‍🩹

tagged landonorris, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and alexandrasaintmleux

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username not her saying she’s looking for a “project” after setting up charles and alex 🤣

username the one and only paddock’s cupid 💘

username it’s insane how she sets everyone up and she’s still single

username the prettiest girl❣️

oscarpiastri you literally posted a pic playing padel, there’s you next project

ynnorris padel is for the weak who can’t play tennis

maxverstappen1 hey!

alexandrasaintmleux charge €10 per tarot reading 🫶🏽

ynnorris alexandra malena your mind is immaculate 🤌🏽

liked by logansargeant, friend1 and others

ynnorris the look from the nosebleeds🩸

tagged logansargeant and friend1

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username why on earth wasn’t she at the garage???

username babes your brother is a literal driver what are you doing there

ynnorris he kicked me out :(

lissiemackintosh shame on you landonorris

landonorris that’s literally fake she just wanted to see how it looked from up there

oscarpiastri i can confirm

ynnorris no one asked you‼️ oscarpiastri

username and who’s that with logan 👀

username omg not another one of yn friends 😭

username she took the paddock’s cupid name too seriously

logansargeant send me that last pic

ynnorris ask friend1 🤭

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and others

oscarpiastri exploring more of monaco🇲🇨

tagged logansargeant, ynnorris and friend1

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username can’t believe he’s moving there

username we lost the game of keeping f1 drivers out of monaco

username not oscar hard launching logan’s relationship 😭

username i genuinely think yn hard launched them first in her last post

username hard launch between yn and oscar when

username no because was this a double date orrr???

username logan and his new gf, no lando, oscar and yn next to each other … hmm …

ynnorris you look cute 🥰 friend1

friend1 youuuu 💕

logansargeant 🤨🤨

friend1 you look cute too ig

logansargeant 😊

oscarpiastri no flirting on my instagram please

ynnorris boooo 🍅🍅🍅

liked by oscarpiastri, trentarnold66 and others

ynnorris post-beach clarity 🏝

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username the only woman ever

username 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

lissiemackintosh my girlfriend 🥵 (liked by ynnorris)

username obsessed with you

username face card is insaaaane

username oscar is very slow

trentarnold66 damn😍

landonorris uhm 🤨

charlesleclerc 🤨

maxverstappen1 🤨

pierregasly 🤨

lancestroll 🤨

lewishamilton 🤨

ynnorris all of you leave rn.

ynnorris except you lewishamilton you can stay 🥰

liked by friend2 and others

f1gossip some drivers were seen clubbing at monaco this weekend including oscar piastri with a mysterious brunette. yn norris and lissie mackintosh were also at the party

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username who’s the girl with oscar?

username i believe it’s friend2 but i could be wrong

username omg and look who follows her 🤭

username yn once again playing cupid but this time with the wrong guy 😩

username no because i wanted her and oscar to date so bad i thought they liked each other :(

username but look at the bright side!!! she’s been rumored to be dating trent alexander arnold so is not all bad

username i guess 😔

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footballwags trent alexander-arnold was seen recently with rumored girlfriend spending some time at the beach

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username excuse me what

username i thought his rumored girlfriend was yn norris? who is this?

username guys i think trent and yn were never really together

username you think?

username trentyn goodbye goodbye goodbye you were bigger than the whole sky

username tbh i can’t be mad at this

username same

liked by oscarpiastri, lissiemackintosh and others

ynnorris took a trip down under 🇦🇺

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username OMG GUYSSS THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username so we weren’t completely delusional huh😭

lissiemackintosh can’t believe you’re cheating on me 😔

ynnorris you’re my number one always! 🫶🏽

username she’s so gorgeous i’m speechless

username yn give me a chance pls pls pls

oscarpiastri you’re too much 😍

ynnorris do you want an australian kiss? 😛

aussiegrit kids please

username last pic is peak boyfriendism 🥵

username FINALLYYYYY

[diqldrunks]

ON AIR; op81 [smau]

nav | inbox (open) | main masterlist

a/n: I 👏 WANT 👏 INTERVIEWER!READER 👏 TO 👏 BE 👏 A 👏 SERIES 👏 (please pretend you want it too)

cw/tw: none!! oscar piastri my favourite baby <3

(part two)

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

twitter

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

oscar taglist (lmk if you want to be added); @llando4norris @apollosfavkiddo @mharmie-formula1 @mixedribbons @formula1-motogpfan @yesmanbabe @tallrock35 @mel164

[csainzoperator]

"let's break up" ☆

summary: you text your f1 boyfriend "let's break up" as a prank.

trigger warnings: fem pronouns, mentions of seperated parents, mentions of killing (as a joke), nicknames, idk if there are more (?)

charles, carlos, lewis, george, max

lando, oscar, alex, logan, daniel

an: omg pls i need such responses. especially logan's cos that's literally me. but hope you had fun reading this, my loves!

[cherry-leclerc]

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment. 

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone. 

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true. 

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers. 

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma. 

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second. 

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver. 

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice. 

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.” 

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger. 

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was.  He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?” 

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

-

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom. 

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water. 

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy. 

He’s a man.

“What do you say?” 

“Sorry?” 

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

-

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.” 

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors. 

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance. 

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away. 

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

-

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy. 

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated. 

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.” 

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled. 

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.” 

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

-

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof. 

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of. 

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there. 

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours. 

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola. 

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts. 

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose. 

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped. 

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog. 

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret. 

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

-

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening. 

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes. 

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?” 

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice. 

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress. 

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound. 

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders. 

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back. 

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

-

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much. 

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable. 

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer. 

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND. 

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you. 

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

-

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.” 

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.” 

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally. 

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least. 

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct. 

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him. 

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough. 

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

��Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band. 

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing. 

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” 

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano. 

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips. 

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry. 

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big.  “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once. 

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds. 

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure. 

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours. 

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle. 

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness. 

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end. 

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow. 

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual. 

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.” 

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?” 

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[pierregazly]

but mama, i love him ꨄ oscar piastri smau

oscar piastri x leclerc!reader

the one where oscar's girlfriend has been soft launching their relationship for ages. and he's okay with it, especially if it means he can keep hiding in plain sight from her three overprotective brothers.

ynleclerc

tagged charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and others

ynleclerc omg omg omg... charles leclerc signed my hat? should i add it to the shrine? give them something to sacrifice?

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username any non-f1 fan would automatically assume ynleclerc is a crazy fan page for charles

username or a charles leclerc hate page... all she does it make fun of her brothers here

username she's offering her signed hat for the tifosi to sacrifice for a CL16 win??? that seems like pure love all around

arthur_leclerc i also signed your hat?

ynleclerc i also do not care? will a hat signed by you get me millions if i sell it for sacrificial purposes?

charles_leclerc what's next? my personal belongings?

ynleclerc is that an offer? if so, oui. i will take what i think will make me the most money next time i'm there, merci <3

scuderiaferrari if it gets us a 1-2 finish, sacrifice everything ynleclerc... please 🙏

username being a Ferrari fan is so satisfying when you remember ynleclerc is an automatic inclusion in everything and anything charles does

username the things i would do to have her as a McLaren fan... she's too beautiful for Ferrari 😭

oscarpiastri a piastri hat will get you good money in straya btw

username oscar??

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, mclaren, and others

oscarpiastri 'stop hitting me with the ball on purpose you jerk' was said more times than it should've been, by someone who really just sucks at tennis. had an awesome week back home, time to get back to it 💪

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logansargeant no wonder you're so worried about getting run over

username the coordinating outfits?? i'm gonna scream, who is she!!!

username what does logan know, tell us your secrets girl logansargeant

username oscar is gonna soft launch this relationship until the end of time. show us her face, you coward!!

ynleclerc did you pay her for all the bruises that tennis ball left?? poor girl

oscarpiastri it's not my fault she's a terrible tennis player, we all know i've offered to pay for a trainer

landonorris so this is why you couldn't come to bali with me 🤨

username lando really said i'm the third wheel??

username to be fair i'd probably pick oscar's girlfriend over lando for a week away too

username girly you don't even know who she is!!! she could be the devil

username i wanna be included in oscar's post week home photo dump :(

ynleclerc has posted a story

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, pascale.leclerc.355, and others

replies

oscarpiastri you can call me pookie whenever you want if you're gonna post things like this

ynleclerc i'd call you pookie with or without your permission, mon amour

charles_leclerc who is this

charles_leclerc why won't you tell us who you're dating

charles_leclerc we won't hurt him

charles_leclerc answer my texts

ynleclerc

liked by oscarpiastri, pascale.leclerc.355, arthur_leclerc, and others

ynleclerc get you a man who can do both, luckiest woman in the world whenever you're around. mon amour 🤍

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username people involved in formula 1 and their obsession with soft launching everything NEEDS to be studied

username at least she posts her boyfriend and he isn't just a small figure in the background of every post (charles this is a direct hate comment)

arthur_leclerc this would have been very lovely if it weren't for the last photo

liked by charles_leclerc and lorenzotl

ynleclerc suppose it's a good thing you could easily ignore it. cheers :)

pascale.leclerc.355 trés belle, ma fille 💗

charles_leclerc maman?

username could you IMAGINE if ynleclerc told pascale but obviously hasn't told her brothers? i can FEEL the outrage

username starting to think this may be a driver, ynleclerc is at every race weekend and ALWAYS makes a post with her mystery man at some point during the week after...

username okay ms sleuth (i think it's lando)

username i'm like 65% sure it's oscar, and 35% positive it's someone that looks a lot like oscar

ynleclerc

tagged oscarpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris, and others

ynleclerc someone exposed us on twitter, so i had to expose us on instagram 😮‍💨

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri love you <3

oscarpiastri i will love you even when a ferrari has run me over, of course.

arthur_leclerc is this your way of telling me i was right, without texting me back?

charles_leclerc this must be a joke, non?

pascale.leclerc.355 so very excited to finally be able to invite the both of you for dinner. trés belle 🤍

charles_leclerc maman, you knew?

ynleclerc oscar and i will see you for sunday dinner, maman! <3

tresbelleleclercspam

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and others

ynleclerc live feed of oscar running away from charles in the paddock when he said he 'just wanted to talk, mate'

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charles_leclerc i truly just wanted to talk about the race

charles_leclerc i did not have a speech planned, non

arthur_leclerc i did have a speech planned

lorenzotl i just wanted to welcome him to the family, as a good big brother should

oscarpiastri my apple watch warned me of an overactive heart rate 5 times today. why did you do this to me. why couldn't you have three sisters???

ynleclerc so very sorry, in our next life i'll try to make sure you only have to worry about sisters and not three overprotective brothers

oscarpiastri as long as i get to spend every lifetime with you <3

i actually got a request for something like this ages ago, and finally got around to finishing it. i so hope you all loved it as much as i loved writing it. thank you for all the support!!

i'm not currently taking requests, but if anyone has lil suggestions or prompts please feel free to send them.

[23victoria]

"did you pump my gas?"

ꨄ༊*·˚ pairings: 𝐟𝟏 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

word count: 𝟐.𝟕𝐤

ꨄ༊*·˚ synopsis: 𝐟𝟏 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫

authors note: 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!! 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, & 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!! 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭?! CLICK HERE!

ꨄ༊*·˚ F1 MASTERLIST

Lewis

Lewis pulls into a gas station as you’re both on a road trip up the coast, eyeing the 7/11 sign with interest. "You want anything, babe?" he asks, turning to you with a warm smile.

"Mmm, a sandwich, some chips, and maybe a drink?" you reply, flashing him a grin.

"Anything for my girl," he says with a wink, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on your lips before hopping out and heading inside.

As Lewis disappears into the store, you notice the gas gauge is teetering near empty. You know Lewis loves taking care of you, but you figure you can handle this one little thing, so you step out and start pumping the gas. Just as you’re putting the nozzle back, Lewis emerges, bag and drink in hand, and freezes mid-step, his eyes widening.

"Wait, are you—no, no, no. Are you pumping my gas, Y/N?" He stares at you with a mixture of disbelief and playful shock.

You give him a shrug and a smile. "Just wanted to help out. No big deal."

"No big deal? Babe, are you kidding me? Not only did you pump the gas, but…did you pay too?" he asks, his voice a blend of amusement and horror.

You nod sheepishly. "I just thought I’d make it easy for you."

Lewis’s face crumples in mock disapproval, and he walks over, setting the food bag on the roof of the car as he puts his hands on your shoulders. "Listen here, princess. You don’t ever lift a finger, especially for something like this. Got it?"

You can’t help but laugh, enjoying the playful scolding. "Okay, okay, I got it. No more helping out, then?"

He shakes his head, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. "The only thing I want you lifting is your hand when you’re telling me you need something," he says, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "And maybe lifting your lips to kiss me."

"That, I can manage," you reply, giggling as you pepper kisses all over his face until he’s laughing too. He finally pulls you into a proper kiss, deep and sweet.

"There we go," he says, pulling back slightly. "Now, hop in, and let me spoil my girl properly. Sandwiches and kisses on demand, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," you reply, heart fluttering as he opens the car door for you with a flourish.

Charles

When Charles pulls into the gas station, he notices the little deli inside and immediately glances your way. "Ma chérie, are you hungry?"

You give him a big smile, your eyes lighting up. "Yes, please! A sandwich and maybe a drink?"

He leans over to give you a gentle kiss. "Consider it done, ma chérie," he says before heading inside with a soft smile on his face.

As he disappears, you notice the gas gauge is low, and you decide to surprise him by filling up the tank. You’re just finishing up when Charles exits the store, a bag in one hand and your drink in the other. He stops dead in his tracks, his expression shifting from relaxed to one of complete disbelief.

"Y/N! No, no, no—ma chérie, did you just… did you just pump the gas?" He hurries over, his face a mix of shock and disapproval.

You look at him, shrugging. "I just thought I’d help out."

He sets the bag down and takes both of your hands in his, his eyes intense as he stares into yours. "No, ma amour. That is not how this works," he says firmly. "You do not touch the gas pump. Not when I am here. I am the one who takes care of these things, d'accord?"

"But, Charles, I wanted to help…"

He lets out a deep sigh, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Non, ma chérie. I adore that you want to help, but you are my princess, and I want you to relax. Let me handle everything."

You giggle softly, giving in to his serious expression. "Okay, okay, I won’t do it again."

He cups your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along your skin. "That’s better," he says, a warm smile replacing his stern look. "Now, a kiss to seal the promise?"

You smile up at him and press a soft kiss to his lips. "Promise."

Charles pulls you close, holding you as if you’re the most precious thing in his world. "Good. Now, back in the car with you, ma chérie. I’ll handle the rest."

Lando

Lando pulls into the gas station, immediately spotting the Wendy’s inside. "Want anything to eat, babe?" he asks with a grin.

"A chicken sandwich meal and a drink, please," you say, giving him a quick kiss.

"Okay baby" he says with a wink, stepping out of the car.

While he’s inside, you notice the gas tank is almost empty. Thinking it would be a nice surprise, you decide to fill it up. You’re just finishing when Lando comes out with the food, and he nearly drops the bag when he sees you by the pump.

"Whoa, hold up—are you pumping the gas?!" He rushes over, looking at you like you just told him you bought the whole station.

"Yeah, I just wanted to help out," you say, smiling.

He gives you a look of pure disbelief mixed with a cheeky grin. "Baby, no, no, no! You don’t do that kind of stuff. You’re my girl—you’re supposed to just chill and look pretty while I take care of things. Got it?"

You giggle at his teasing tone. "Got it, Lando."

He pulls you in, giving you a quick peck on the lips. "Good. Now, next time you even think about pumping gas, remember that it’s my job to take care of you. Deal?"

"Deal," you reply, giggling as you give him a few more kisses on his cheek.

"That’s better," he says, smiling as he opens the car door for you. "Now, get in and let me spoil you."

Carlos

Carlos pulls into the gas station and glances at the deli. "You want anything to eat, mami?"

"Yes, please! A sandwich, some chips, and a drink please," you reply, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

He smiles warmly. "For you, anything," he says, before heading inside.

While he’s gone, you notice the gas is low and decide to surprise him by filling it up. Just as you’re finishing, Carlos exits the store and his eyes go wide.

"Mami! No, no, no!" He rushes over, looking at you with a mix of shock and adoration. "What are you doing, princesa?"

"I just wanted to help out," you say, smiling.

Carlos shakes his head, taking your hands in his and giving you a soft but stern look. "No, no, mami, you don’t need to worry about things like that. I’m the one who takes care of you, understand?"

"Okay, okay," you reply, giggling at his serious expression.

He pulls you close, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You’re too precious for that. Just relax and let me handle everything, mami."

You smile, leaning into his embrace. "I love you, Carlos."

"I love you too, mami," he whispers, holding you close. "Now, let’s get back on the road, and I’ll keep spoiling you."

Max

Max had barely pulled into the gas station when he’d noticed the little Dunkin inside. Turning to you with a playful smile, he’d asked, “Want anything, baby?”

“A bagel and iced coffee would be amazing,” you’d replied, giving him a quick, affectionate kiss.

“Anything for you,” he’d said, winking before hopping out of the car and heading into the store.

As soon as he was gone, you noticed the gas gauge needle hovering close to “E.” Figuring you could surprise him by taking care of it, you stepped out, filled the tank, and managed to get back into your seat just as Max walked out, food and drink in hand.

He reaches your side, a bag in one hand, and gives you the warmest smile as he passes you your food through the window. But then he tilts his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Wait, why is the car still on? I thought I turned it off…”

He walks around to the driver’s side, opens the door, and freezes as he notices the gas gauge. His eyes go wide, and he quickly realizes what you did. Shutting the door, he comes back to your side, a look of disbelief mixed with soft exasperation on his face.

“Baby, did you…did you just fill up the car?” he asks, his tone gentle but incredulous.

You give him an innocent smile. “I just thought I’d help out a little.”

He sighs, looking at you like you’ve just broken an unspoken rule. “No, no, no, absolutely not,” he says, shaking his head. “Baby, you’re not supposed to do stuff like that. You’re my girl. I take care of those things, alright?”

You laugh softly, appreciating how serious he seems about this. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

He leans in, planting a tender kiss on your forehead and then a few quick ones on your cheeks for good measure. “Just sit back, relax, and let me take care of you. Promise?”

“Promise,” you say, laughing, and he finally breaks into a soft smile, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

“Good,” he murmurs, giving you one last kiss before heading back around to the driver’s seat. “Now, eat up, baby, and let’s get back on the road.”

Jenson

As soon as you and Jenson pulled into the gas station, he’d noticed the deli inside and turned to you with a smile that was pure charm. “Fancy a snack, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please! A sandwich, some chips, and maybe a drink?” you asked, leaning in to give him a quick kiss.

“Say no more,” he’d replied, winking as he stepped out of the car and made his way toward the store.

While he was gone, you noticed the tank was low and figured you could surprise him by filling it up. Just as you finish and settle back into your seat, Jenson comes back out, a bag of food and your drink in hand.

He comes over to your side, passing the bag through the window. “Here you go, sweetheart,” he says, his eyes lighting up as he glances at you. But then he notices the engine is on and tilts his head, frowning a little.

“Wait a second…didn’t I turn the car off?” he mutters, walking around to the driver’s side. When he opens the door and sees the gas gauge is full, he freezes, putting two and two together. He shuts the door and comes back around to your side, his eyes wide.

“Sweetheart, tell me you did not just fill up the car?” he asks, a hand over his chest in a mock display of distress.

You grin, shrugging. “I just thought I’d give you a hand.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” he says, shaking his head and looking half-appalled, half-amused. “Sweetheart, you’re my girl. You don’t lift a finger for things like that, alright? Not when I’m here.”

You can’t help but laugh at his dramatic response. “Alright, message received. No more helping out?”

He grins, leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. “Exactly. I want you to just sit back and let me spoil you. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say, giggling as he plants a couple more kisses on your forehead and nose for good measure.

“Perfect,” he says with a satisfied nod, finally heading back to the driver’s seat. “Now, relax, sweetheart, and enjoy the food.”

Oscar

Oscar is usually more low-key, but as he pulls into the gas station and spots the McDonald’s inside, he turns to you with a soft smile. “Hungry, babe?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yes, please! A 20 piece nuggets and a drink, please and thank you.”

“Of course babe,” he replies, giving you a quick kiss before hopping out of the car.

While he’s inside, you notice the gas is nearly empty and decide to take care of it yourself. You fill up quickly, wanting to surprise him before he gets back. Just as you’re settling into your seat again, Oscar walks out, your food and drink in hand.

He comes to your side and passes you the bag through the window. “Here you go, babe,” he says with that shy smile of his. But then he frowns slightly, noticing the car is still on.

“Huh, I thought I turned the car off…” he mutters to himself, walking over to the driver’s side. When he opens the door and notices the gas tank is now full, he turns back to you, looking surprised.

“Babe, did you…did you just fill up the car?” he asks, his tone soft but a bit stern.

You shrug, smiling. “Just thought I’d help out.”

Oscar sighs, his brows knitting as he walks back over to you. “No, no, babe. You don’t need to do that, okay? I’m here to take care of things like that.”

You laugh, reaching out to grab his hand. “Alright, alright. No more gas-pumping.”

He relaxes, a gentle smile replacing his serious look as he cups your face. “Good. Just sit back, relax, and let me handle it. Deal?”

“Deal,” you reply, smiling up at him as he leans in and plants a soft kiss on your forehead, then another on your nose, making you giggle.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, heading back to the driver’s side. “Now let’s get going, and you can just enjoy the ride.”

Sebastian

When you and Sebastian pull into the gas station, he immediately notices the small deli inside. He glances over at you with that soft, warm smile you love so much, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Want anything, honey?" he asks, his voice gentle as he rests a hand on yours.

“Some chips and maybe a drink?” you reply, giving him a playful smile.

“Of course,” he says, pressing a kiss to your hand before getting out and heading into the store.

Once he’s out of sight, you notice the fuel gauge is nearly on “E.” Knowing how much he insists on doing everything for you, you’re torn for a moment, but you decide it’d be a sweet surprise to fill it up for him. You slip out of the car, pump the gas, and manage to finish just in time to jump back into your seat.

Sebastian emerges from the store, carrying a bag with your food and drink, and walks up to your window with that same warm smile. He hands you the bag through the open window, giving you a look that makes you feel like the only person in the world.

“Here you go, honey,” he murmurs. But then he frowns, his brow furrowing slightly. “Didn’t I…didn’t I turn the car off?”

He rounds the car, opening the driver’s side door. When he spots the full fuel gauge, his face freezes, and he turns back to you with wide eyes.

“Did you…did you fill up the tank?” he asks, a mixture of shock and concern in his voice.

You nod, trying to look casual. “Just thought I’d help out a bit.”

Seb shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as he lets out a deep sigh. “Honey, no,” he says softly but firmly, coming over to your side. “You’re my girl; I don’t want you to worry about things like that. You don’t have to lift a finger for this.”

You can see he’s genuinely bothered, and it makes your heart melt a little. “Okay, okay,” you say, laughing softly as you reach up to stroke his cheek. “I get it, I promise. No more surprises like this.”

Sebastian’s expression softens immediately as he cups your face, looking at you with such adoration. “Good. Because you’re my princess, and I’m here to take care of you,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Let me spoil you a little, alright?”

“Alright,” you whisper, smiling up at him.

He rewards you with a gentle, lingering kiss on your cheek and brushes a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Thank you, liebling. Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy your food.”

ꨄ༊*·˚ taglist! @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @Blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eoduuung @eternoangel @xoscar03 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @danieldaviddarren33 @flowerpetalk @xoscar3 @jimcarreyfann42 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @goldenroutledge @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @acesbakery @armystay89 @poppyflower-22 @szalovebot

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[thef1diary]

𝐅𝟏 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 ‘𝟐𝟒

Strap in you filthy fuckers, I’m participating in kinktober this year. A total of 11 fics will be posted from October 1 - 31, specific dates and prompts are listed below:

Oct 1: Dreamy Desire | C. Leclerc ~ Somnophilia

Oct 4: Yes, Sir | L. Hamilton ~ Sir Kink

Oct 7: Guide Me | G. Russell ~ Guided Masturbation

Oct 10: Anytime, Anywhere | D. Ricciardo ~ Free Use

Oct 13: Fill Me Up | C. Sainz ~ Breeding Kink

Oct 16: Hot ‘n’ Cold | M. Verstappen - Temp Play

Oct 19: Sit On It | L. Norris ~ Cockwarming

Oct 22: Hands Full | O. Piastri ~ Nipple Play

Oct 25: Behave | P. Gasly ~ Spanking

Oct 28: Reflection | D. Ricciardo ~ Mirror Sex

Oct 31: Too Big | G. Russell ~ Size Kink

— have fun, stay filthy, and let me know if you’d like to be tagged for any of these fics. all kinktober fics will be tagged with #di’s kinky fics in case you want to block the tag.

[pucksandpower]

Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader

Summary: congrats … it’s a boy!

You wake up to the sound of the apartment door closing, followed by Charles’ familiar footsteps down the hallway. Sunlight streams in through the curtains as he enters the bedroom, still dressed in his sweaty workout clothes.

“Mon amour, you’ll never believe what just happened,” he says, unable to contain his excitement.

You rub the sleep from your eyes. “What is it, babe?”

“I adopted Oscar Piastri.”

You blink a few times, unsure if you heard that correctly. “You … adopted Oscar Piastri? The McLaren driver?”

“Yes!” Charles exclaims, flopping down on the bed beside you. “It all started when he tweeted about wanting to find Monégasque roots so the Monaco Grand Prix could be his home race.”

“Okay ...” You try to wrap your head around this bizarre situation.

“So I replied saying I could just adopt him if needed. And you know how Oscar is, always ready with a witty comeback.” Charles grins. “He said to call him Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc and that he wants to meet Leo on Thursday at McLaren.”

“Charles ...” You can’t help but laugh at the sheer absurdity. “You can’t just adopt a fully-grown man! Especially another F1 driver!”

“Why not?” He throws his arm around you, pulling you close. “We’re gonna be one big happy family. The two of us, Leo, Oscar, Ollie, and whoever else we decide to adopt along the way.”

You playfully shove him away. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe a little.” Charles winks. “But you love me for it.”

Rolling your eyes, you get out of bed and head for the kitchen, Charles trailing behind. “So does this mean Oscar is coming for family dinner this Thursday?”

“Of course! We have to celebrate properly.” Charles scoops Leo up from his bed, cradling the puppy in his arms. “What do you say, Leo? You ready to have another big brother?”

Leo licks Charles’ face, tail wagging excitedly. You lean against the counter, watching your husband and puppy with a fond smile.

“I suppose I’ll have to set an extra place at the table,” you muse. “Your mother is going to flip when she finds out about this.”

“Maman keeps asking when we’ll give her grandchildren, she’ll be thrilled!” Charles insists. “Who wouldn’t want Oscar as a grandson?”

You snort at that. “Grandson? You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“I’m serious!” He sets Leo down and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “We can make it official. Have a baby shower and everything once this weekend is over with.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You shake your head in amused exasperation, resting your hands on his chest.

Charles leans in close, his warm breath fanning across your face. “Admit it, my particular brand of crazy kinda does it for you.”

You bite your lip to stifle a grin. “Keep talking and maybe I’ll consider it.”

His eyes spark with mischief and he dips his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You melt against him, tangling your fingers in his hair and kissing him back with equal fervor. A loud bark from Leo breaks you apart, both slightly flushed.

“Not in front of the puppy,” Charles teases, booping Leo on the nose.

You swat his arm. “Stop being a brat and go take a shower, you’re all gross and sweaty from the gym.”

“Mmm, why don’t you join me?” He waggles his eyebrows in an over-exaggerated leer.

You laugh, shoving him away playfully. “Not a chance, mister. I have to go out and buy another place setting for our new family member.”

“Can I at least have a good luck kiss? It’s Monaco race week, after all. I’ll need all the luck I can get.” Charles bats his eyes at you in an exaggerated pout.

Shaking your head fondly, you rise up on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “There. Now go get ready.”

Still grinning like a loon, Charles saunters off to the bathroom. You crouch down and scoop up Leo, pressing a kiss to the top of his fuzzy head.

“Your dad is something else, you know that?” You murmur affectionately.

A few hours later, you return home laden with groceries to find Charles lounging on the couch scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you enter, eyes bright.

“Good timing, I was just about to call you.”

“Oh yeah?” You set the bags on the counter and start unpacking. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking ...” Charles gets up and comes over, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “We should do something special for Oscar’s first official family dinner. Maybe a nice home cooked meal out on the balcony?”

You lean back against his chest with a contented hum. “That does sound lovely.”

“I’ll cook!” Charles volunteers immediately. “My famous carbonara?”

“You just want to show Oscar you can manage to make something without burning the apartment down, don’t you?” You laugh, twisting in his embrace to face him.

Charles ducks his head sheepishly. “Maybe a little.”

“Well, I’m not complaining.” You peck him on the cheek. “Go ahead and make your carbonara for our new adopted son.”

“Yes!” He pumps his fist in the air victoriously.

You shake your head at his antics, warmth blooming in your chest. “I love you, you big goof.”

The smile Charles gives you is utterly radiant. “I love you too.”

He pulls you in for a deep, lingering kiss, holding you close. You get so lost in the moment that you don’t notice Leo trotting up and pawing at your legs until he lets out a pointed bark. Laughing, you reluctantly break the kiss.

“Sorry, baby.” Charles scoops up the puppy, scratching behind his ears. “We didn’t mean to leave you out.”

You take Leo from his arms, pressing a smiling kiss to his soft fur. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be our favorite.”

“That’s right,” Charles agrees, booping Leo’s nose. “No matter how many race car drivers we adopt, you’ll always be number one.”

The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon lounging contentedly together, Charles and Leo snuggled up on either side of you. It almost makes you forget the madness that kick started this whole situation in the first place.

Almost.

A few days later, after the drivers have finally been freed from their Thursday media obligations, your doorbell rings. You share a look with Charles as Leo starts barking.

“I’ll get it,” he says, already knowing who it is.

Sure enough, a few moments later Charles returns to the living room with Oscar in tow, looking rather sheepish. You rise to greet your new son.

“Oscar, hi! Come on in.” You pull him in for a hug, which he returns tentatively.

“Sorry about all … this.” Oscar gestures vaguely as you part. “I was just joking on Twitter but then Charles actually went and-”

“Adopted you, yeah.” You laugh. “Don’t worry about it, we’re happy to have you as part of the family.”

“Still getting used to that idea, to be honest.” Oscar scratches the back of his neck.

You wave a dismissive hand. “Well, get ready for lots of family gatherings and parental nagging from this point on.”

“Oh boy.” Despite his words, Oscar’s mouth quirks up in an amused grin.

“Starting with tonight’s big family dinner out on the balcony,” Charles interjects, slinging an arm around Oscar’s shoulders. “You like pasta?”

“Do I ever.” Oscar brightens. “Is Leo gonna be there too?”

“Of course! Can’t leave out my favorite son.” Charles scoops up the puppy, plopping him in Oscar’s arms. “Here, get acquainted with your new little brother.”

“Hiya little guy,” Oscar says softly, instantly melting as Leo licks his face. You watch the tender interaction with a warm smile.

“He’s taken a real shine to you already,” you comment. “I think Leo approves of his new big brother.”

Oscar ducks his head shyly but you can see the corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin. “Guess that makes me an official part of the family then.”

“Damn right it does!” Charles crows, throwing an arm around each of your shoulders and pulling you both in for an enthusiastic group hug.

You laugh, squished between them. “Easy there, dad. You’re gonna smother the poor kid before he’s even settled in.”

“What, you’re not excited to finally have your dream son?” Charles teases, ruffling Oscar’s hair affectionately. “Our little family is complete now.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you extricate yourself from the embrace. “Why don’t you boys go set up for dinner while I start cooking? The balcony still needs to be prepped.”

“You got it, mon cœur.” Charles drops a kiss on your cheek before herding Oscar out towards the balcony, Leo cradled in his arms. “Come on, son. Let’s get this place looking perfect for your first official Leclerc family dinner.”

You shake your head as their voices fade down the hall, chuckling under your breath. Only your husband would take a silly Twitter joke this far. But as you start gathering ingredients for your grandmother’s legendary bolognese recipe, you can’t help but feel a swell of contentment.

Having Oscar around is certainly going to take some getting used to. But there’s no denying the warm affection and familial love you already feel towards the bashful but kindhearted young man. He fits right in with the playful, chaotic energy that defines your little household.

By the time the sun begins to dip below the horizon, bathing the apartment in a warm golden glow, the balcony is set up beautifully. You carry out the steaming pots of food to find Charles and Oscar setting out plates and glasses, Leo scampering around their feet. Your heart feels full just looking at them.

“This all looks wonderful, you two,” you say, setting the food down on the table. “Now we just need the guest of honor to arrive.”

“Maman’s never been late to dinner a day in her life,” Charles assures you. “She’ll be here any minute.”

Sure enough, there’s a rapid knocking at the door only moments later. You share an amused look with Oscar before going to answer it, Charles and Leo trailing behind.

“Maman!” Charles exclaims as you pull open the door to reveal his mother waiting on the other side. “Perfect timing.”

“Of course, we can’t start dinner without-” She breaks off abruptly as her eyes land on Oscar hovering behind you. “Charles, darling, who is this?”

“Maman, I’d like you to meet Oscar.” Charles beams as he gestures between them. “Your new grandson.”

A heavy silence falls over the room as Charles’ mother processes this bombshell. Her gaze flicks between the three of you, searching your faces for any sign that this is all an elaborate prank.

Finally, she seems to deflate with a sigh. “Oh Charles … what have you done now?”

And just like that, the floodgates open as both of you rush to explain the situation, talking over each other eagerly. Watching the animated scene unfold, Oscar catches your eye with a helpless look.

You just shrug, a soft smile playing at your lips. Chaotic as it is, this is your family now and wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

The following week, the doorbell rings just as you’re putting the final touches on dinner. Charles bounds over to answer it, Leo hot on his heels.

“Oscar! Ollie! Good, you’re both here.” Charles’ voice carries easily through the apartment.

You poke your head out of the kitchen, oven mitts still on. “Is that our other son I hear?”

“The one and only!” Ollie Bearman strolls in behind Oscar, looking completely at ease.

Oscar raises an eyebrow at the younger driver. “Why is nobody surprised you’re here?”

Ollie shrugs nonchalantly. “Teen pregnancy?”

You let out an undignified snort of laughter as Oscar gapes at him. “Don’t look at me, Charles carried you for nine months himself.”

“What?” Ollie whips his head around to stare at Charles in abject horror.

Charles just grins, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders. “You heard the woman. My body is a wonderland.”

“Oh my god.” Oscar buries his face in his hands as you dissolve into peals of laughter. “Why are you like this?”

“Because it’s fun to watch you squirm,” Charles replies cheerfully.

You wipe tears from your eyes as you head back into the kitchen. “Dinner’s just about ready, come grab a plate! Oh, and pray you don’t get food poisoning.”

Soon you’re all settled around the balcony table, tucking into plates piled high with food. Ollie kicks things off by turning to you with a smile.

“This is amazing, thanks for cooking!”

“Don’t thank me, it was all Charles this time,” you say, gesturing to your husband sitting across from you.

Ollie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You cooked all this? Damn, maybe having you as a dad won’t be so bad after all.”

Charles throws his hands up in mock offense. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m an excellent father.”

“If you say so.” Ollie smirks, shoveling another forkful of pasta into his mouth.

Oscar just shakes his head in amazement. “I still can’t believe you actually went through with adopting us.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Charles leans back in his chair, casual as can be. “You’re both great kids. Perfect sons.”

“Even if we didn’t ask for it?” Ollie points out around a mouthful of food.

You tsk disapprovingly. “Mind your manners, young man.”

Ollie’s eyes go comically wide and he quickly swallows his bite. “Sorry, mum.”

That sets you and Oscar off into another round of laughter. Even Leo gets in on the action, letting out a little bark from where he’s curled up nearby. Charles watches the scene with fondness.

“See, you’re already fitting right in,” he says warmly once the laughter subsides. “My two idiot sons.”

Ollie opens his mouth to retort but you cut him off, leaning across the table to affectionately pat his hand.

“Don’t listen to your father, Ollie. We’re happy to have you both here.” You shoot Oscar a wink. “Even if you did get adopted under … unusual circumstances.”

“You can say that again,” Oscar mutters, but he’s smiling.

Over the course of the evening, you take great delight in watching Charles easily slip into the role of devoted dad. He makes terrible jokes and embarrassing comments at every turn, clearly intent on annoying his new children as much as humanly possible. Yet it’s impossible to miss the deep well of affection beneath his teasing words and actions.

For their part, Oscar and Ollie play along enthusiastically. They roll their eyes and groan as if put-upon, but you can see the sparkle of happiness and contentment in their eyes as the night wears on. An easy camaraderie develops between the trio, fueled by plenty of back-and-forth needling and good-natured ribbing.

You sit back and watch it all with a permanent smile etched on your face. Your strange little family just keeps growing, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

At one point, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. When you return, the three of them have their heads bent together conspiratorially, hastily falling silent when you reappear.

“What’s this?” You raise an eyebrow as you retake your seat. “Am I being left out of the loop here?”

Oscar shares a look with Charles before turning to you with a sly grin. “We were just thinking ...”

“This family isn’t quite complete yet,” Ollie picks up easily.

You glance between them, utterly perplexed. “What are you two on about?”

Rather than answer, Charles pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. A few moments later, your own phone buzzes with a Twitter notification — a new tweet from your husband.

Your jaw drops as you read the words over and over. “Charles! You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” He shoots you an impish grin, clearly reveling in your stunned reaction. “Kimi’s a good kid, he’d make an excellent addition to the family.”

“I … you ...” You sputter, completely at a loss for words.

Oscar and Ollie watch the exchange with matching looks of unrestrained glee. Ollie raises his glass in a mock toast.

“To Mum and Dad, the most extra parents on the grid!”

You shake your head in bewildered amusement as they all crack up. This family just gets more ridiculous by the day.

A short while later, Kimi responds to Charles’ tweet.

The notification sets off another round of laughter and delighted hollering from the three drivers. You hide your face in your hands, torn between mortification and hysterical giggles.

“I can’t take you three anywhere,” you mutter, though you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

A warm arm wraps around your shoulders as Charles leans over to press a smiling kiss to your temple. “But you love us anyway.”

You catch his gaze, momentarily speechless by the contentment shining in his eyes. For all the silliness and absurdity, it’s clear just how much this strange little family truly means to him.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in your throat, you reach up to cup his cheek tenderly. “More than you’ll ever know.”

He beams at you, pure adoration written across his features. Then the moment is broken as an Italian-accented voice rings out from the hallway.

“Hey, did someone call for a new son?”

Oscar, Ollie, and Charles practically tumble over each other in their haste to greet the newcomer. You hang back, taking a moment to catch your breath as you watch the now quartet bound back onto the balcony, a fresh wave of chaos and noise in their wake.

One thing’s for certain — life is never going to be boring with this group around. You shake your head with a soft chuckle, heading back to join your one-of-a-kind family.

[afterglowsainz]

we used to have more pt. 2 | oscar piastri

part 1 part 3 part 4

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: after oscar gets back with his ex you found yourself coping in the best way possible: running away

fc: different girls from pinterest

warnings: some very questionable work dynamics that i’m pretty sure are not accurate at all (good thing this is fiction and i can do whatever i want for the plot!)

a/n: thank you so so so much for all the love you gave to part 1! this story is like my baby and i’m truly so happy people liked it <3

—

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and others

yourusername always ✨chaotic✨ in melbourne🦘

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username AHHHH i live for her weekly race posts

username the bag essentials ✨

username her ig is what my pinterest boards looks like 🥹

username manifesting this life truly

declanmurray first pic is unfocused

yourusername NO! WHAT?

username she’s so cool 😩

username the star girl of f1 ⭐️

lissiemackintosh i need that lipstick actually 😭

yourusername come and we’ll share 😭

[lissiemackintosh’s instagram stories] [yourusername’s instagram stories]

[caption 1: ✈️💗] [caption 2: lights out…]

liked by patriciooward, milesbaldwin and others

yourusername settling just fine 🍊🧿🍒

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username she’s working at indy now omg

username what nooo 😭😭 i love her in f1

username ahhh did not expect this at all

username as an indycar fan i love this

username and she posted a pic of the podium celebration i- 💞💞💞

username okay but the hands on the last picture ???

username girl whoooo 👀

username probably one of her friends she always with

patriciooward that podium pic 😩

yourusername it was a cool champagne trick!

liked by oscarpiastri, alexanderrossi and others

milesbaldwin survived our first week in america

tagged yourusername, lissiemackintosh, miguelsossa and declanmurray

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yourusername against all odds!

username ohhh so they are ALL in indy

username the timing of this is very curious ngl 🤣

username right like the season JUST started

miguelsossa we’re perfect 😉

davidmalukas perfectly deranged!

lissiemackintosh wow buddy i thought we were friends

davidmalukas ohhh you’re saying buddy like an american already ☺️

yourusername 👀👀👀

oscarpiastri have fun mate 👍🏽

liked by nolansiegel, patriciooward and others

yourusername another week, another race day🏎🏁

tagged davidmalukas and lissiemackintosh

view all comments

username the way this could’ve been about china but no! she’s in america 😭

username obsessed with the fact she posts only in mclaren

yourusername luckily here i can be biased 🧡🧡

username OMG

username girl come back to f1 you’re gonna miss all the fun races!

username y/n at indy was a must i didn’t knew i needed

username an lissie and declan and miles and miguel and

username you can’t physically separate them i’m afraid (liked by yourusername)

liked by yourusername, declanmurray and others

patriciooward nice afternoon🧡

view all comments

username second podium in a row yesss

miguelsossa congrats mate! (liked by patriciooward)

username guys you lost me i’m in love with a mclaren 😔

username no i get you because this is me with oscar 😔

milesbaldwin feliz navidad pato! (or whoever you say it) (liked by patriciooward)

username close! welcome back sebastian vettel

username i’m that champagne bottle actually

yourusername ahhh so well deserved 🙌🏽

patriciooward thank you!

—

taglist; @heavy-vettel @a-beaverhausen @astroniii @chunkpiboli @theonottsbxtch @eclecticcreatorweaselsalad @charli123456789 @stopeatread @coriyaps @nina-or-anna-or-nora @ninasw0rld @loveelylani @marauders-wife @dramallama9 @mxdi0 @piastrigate @ladyoflynx @prudyhoo @idkwtdwml123 @southernbaguette @ellelabelle @emryb @fastfactory

[diqldrunks]

PAY RISE; op81 [smau]

nav | inbox | main masterlist

a/n: okay so it’s the first time in ages i’ve posted, but my university applications might not be able to be sent off in time and i’ve been crying for days so i’m back temporarily as a distraction!!

i also have a 1,200 followers (and counting!) celebration that im planning to do for xmas. if this doesn’t happen, it’ll be happening in summer after my a levels <3

cw/tw: race engineer series and have aus for diff drivers? 😏 [i could’ve added the lap number per tweet but i realised at the end and didn’t wanna redo it 😭]

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

twitter

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

instagram

yourusername just posted!

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 823,416 others

yourusername ✓ didn’t realise the job description was “deal with a sassy teenage girl. @/mclaren, PAY ME MORE 😭😭🙏

71,374 comments…

user4 pay for her therapy 💀

user5 honestly i’d let him crash

yourusername ✓ if only you knew the amount of times i thought about it 😒

mclaren ✓ 🕵️‍♂️👀

user6 @/yourusername HIDE

yourusername ✓ 🫣

landonorris ✓ you don’t need more money 💀

yourusername ✓ SAYS YOU ? REMIND ME HOW MUCH YOU MAKE? 👂👂👂

landonorris ✓ 😅

oscarpiastri ✓ what if i buy you dinner instead of you getting a pay rise?

user7 WHAT THE FUCK?

user8 OSCAR RIZZASTRI?

yourusername ✓ …do i get to pick the restaurant?

oscarpiastri ✓ of course

yourusername ✓ then yes 🤭 (even if i said no i would’ve accepted, but now i get to pick the most expensive place i can find 💪)

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

oscar taglist (lmk if you want to be added); @llando4norris @apollosfavkiddo @mharmie-formula1 @mixedribbons @formula1-motogpfan @tallrock35 @mel164 @awritingtree @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @sheslikeacurse @futuref1-wag @tinyhrry @lokideservesahug @ricciardonut @sumlovesjude @emryb @ems-alexandra @pausmoon @dear-fifi @silkenthusiasts @yesmanbabe @hwalllllllelujah @saachiep81 @sunlithearts @spanishcorndogs @gr1mes-cc @yukiotadako @evie-119 @kissesandmartinis @thebookbakery @merchelsea @booksandflowrs @sinfully-yoursss @gigigreens @alilstressyandlotdepressy @itsss4t4n @agmoon03 @noemidude @forza-charles @dullypully @poppysrin @pastrymechanic @elizabethenjoys @m3ntally-unstable @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @papayadays @milkysoop @hadesnumber1daughter

[5sospenguinqueen]

Djungelskog - Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

Summary: Summer break means forcing Oscar to help you get your classroom ready in time for upcoming school year. 

Fluff. 2024 season. Pinterest pics

Requested: Yes by anon (here)

There's a little blurb halfway down

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

yn_ln last day of term. last recess, last day of chalk drawings. i’ve had a lovely bunch this year and will miss them loads as they move on. looking forward to a much needed break

681 comments

bestfriend feet on the desk? empty classroom? looks like slacking to me

oscarpiastri can’t wait to spend summer break with you 

→ yn_ln it’ll be nice to not have to share you with lando

→ landonorris what makes you think you can get away from me

→ georgerussel63 that sounds like a threat, mate

hattiepiastri does this mean you’ll have time to take me to the babymetal concert? ‘cause mum keeps trying to get out of it 

→ yn_ln do i have to learn the all the lyrics? 

→ hattiepiastri you’re a teacher, learning is in your blood 

→ yn_ln osc, help

→ oscarpiastri no, you chose to befriend her

alexandrasaintmleux omg did the kids do those drawings? 🥹belle

→ yn_ln no, that was lando’s drawing

→ landonorris don’t be silly. i can’t draw that well

teacherfriend i’ll do my best to look after them next year but i know i can’t compete with the fabulous miss ln 

nicolepiastri when can we see miss ln turn to mrs piastri?

→ oscarpiastri this is why i don’t come home 

→ nicolepiastri no, you don’t come home because yn does your laundry now 

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by yn_ln, danielricciardo and others

oscarpiastri first part of the season done. first GP victory. first broken bone. looking forward to a much needed break for the rib

4,811 comments

landonorris omg stop copying your girlfriend’s caption style

→ yn_ln he can’t help it. he’s obsessed with me

→ oscarpiastri true

→ user1 let us innnnn

user2 does a broken bone mean he’ll win the next race

→ yn_ln only if i'm there

charles_leclerc and what have you been doing to break a bone?

→ oscarpiastri helping my girlfriend empty a classroom. there’s a lot of books in there

mclaren enjoy the break. we can’t wait to have you back racing and refreshed 

→ user3 he’s literally only just left the mtc, give him a minute of peace

→ yn_ln don’t worry. i’ll be putting them in a time out if they try and take him

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln my happy place. quick lunch break. dragging my big strong man to carry stuff for me in ikea 

814 comments

oscarpiastri before that bear, i was your big strong man :( 

→ yn_ln you broke a rib. you’re only so useful. the bear can’t break 

→ oscarpiastri it can if i pull it’s head off

→ yn_ln you were a biter, weren’t you?

→ hattiepiastri yes

landonorris why wasn’t i invited

landonorris sushi 🤢

→ yn_ln this is why you weren’t invited 

→ landonorris stop trying to push me out 

→ oscarpiastri i see you practically 10 months out of the year. she can have me for one afternoon

charles_leclerc oh i love ikea furniture! can i help?

→ yn_ln of course you can. we have snacks as well

→ landonorris blatant favouritism 

→ yn_ln yes 

danielricciardo omg the djungelskog. when can i meet him?

→ oscarpiastri he’s called skoggie for short 

→ nicolepiastri the closest i’ll get to grandkids

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Oscar grinned at the face filling up the front of his phone, sliding the button across to answer it. 

“He-”

“Babe, I need more glue.” You exploded, cutting him off before he could even greet you properly. “Oh, and paper.”

“-And I broke the scissors. But the good news is, Lan said he could come and help so could you actually pick up 3 pairs of scissors, please?” 

“Sweetheart, breathe.” Oscar reminded you, a soft laugh echoing down the phone. “I’ve literally only been gone for 10 minutes. All we needed was milk. How did you manage to rope Lando into this?” 

“Rope? He was practically hanging by the phone waiting for one of us to call. I asked if he could spare a few minutes - just to give you a hand moving the desk - and he was already in the car on his way.”

“At least he’s preparing us for our own children one day,” joked Oscar.

“How have you got paint in your curls? I didn’t ask you to paint because I knew you couldn't be trusted to paint,” the exasperated voice of his girlfriend echoed down the empty school hallways. Light radiated from a singular doorway at the end of the hallway, beckoning him forward. 

“Every year, I deal with a class of 30 five year olds, experiencing freedom from their parents for the first time. And yet I feel like I need to watch you more than I do them.” 

“But it was just sat on the side, with the lid off!.”

“So you felt the need to somehow stick your entire hand in it?” 

Oscar leant against the doorframe, watching affectionately as you used a wet wipe to get the paint off of Lando as best as possible. Despite the curly-haired Brit being old than you, it didn’t stop the caring instinct that came with being a first-year teacher. 

One wall was painted a soft lilac whilst the other three had been given fresh coats of white. The chairs and tables had been organised into little groups to help you see each child’s face from the front of the class, and the drawers were freshly stocked with stationery. A little rug and some bean bags were set up in the corner for the story nook, and all that was left to do was start hanging up the wall deco. 

“There?” 

“Little higher,” you remarked, after faking a contemplative pause. 

“Now?”

“Little higher,” you leaned back to really take in the view. “Oh, yeah, that’s good.”

The white t-shirt sat snugly on his strained biceps as he held the board up over his head. The hem rode up as he stretched, revealing a nice sliver of tan, muscular back. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you sighed deeply at the sight before you. How easy would it be to reach and smack-

“Babe!” Oscar called again, turning around to check on you. “I can’t hold this- Are you checking me out? You’re supposed to be telling me where this goes.” 

“You shouldn’t look that good then.”

Clambering down from the ladder, he placed the thick board down on the nearest table and sauntered over to you. Placing his hands on your hips, he pulled you flush against him. Pressing a kiss to your nose, he trailed his lips down to your jaw and then under your ear. 

“How about we call it a night? This’ll all be here tomorrow, and you can appreciate the view without the t-shirt.” 

When you didn’t smile at his enticing offer, Oscar pulled down to look at you. Brushing a strand of hair back from your face, he frowned at the furrow between your brows. 

“What’s up, sweetheart?” 

“I’m just worried that it’s not enough, you know…”

Oscar turned his head slightly, drinking in all the work you had put together. The butterflies made out of patterned cards that you had spent hours scouring stores for. The paper flowers decorating the whiteboard that you had spent days stressing about. The stack of drawers with each student's name labelled across the front. The days of work that had gone into ensuring that each little person that crossed your threshold was as happy as they could be. A teacher that cared. 

“I know they’re only five, and they’ve never had another classroom to go off but- I don’t know. I just want them to feel comfortable and safe, and happy. I don’t want them to feel like they’re in an institution designed to make them sit in a seat for six hours.” 

“Look at all the effort you’ve put in so far. Without all the lesson planning and actual caring you’ll do when those kids come under your care. Did you ever have a classroom like this growing up? No. Neither did I. You know why, because nobody cares as much as you do.”

Straightening, he swung you up into his arms, bridal style. A cheeky grin pulled at the corners of his mouth when you shrieked in laughter. 

“Now, let’s go home, Skoggie is waiting for us. We'll grab some dinner and take a bath together. What do you say?” 

“Okay, Piastri. Take me home or lose me forever.” 

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by mclaren, arthur_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri dating a teacher means spending summer break painting, cutting, glueing and then being told “it’s quiet time” whilst she decompresses from watching you do all the work 

3,381 comments

yn_ln you wouldn’t stop talking and i was trying to refresh my barbie knowledge

→ user1 princess and the pauper?

→ yn_ln absolutely 

→ landonorris i’m the erika to her annalise 

→ oscarpiastri whoa, you help with one classroom and think you can take my coveted spot? 

yn_ln plus it was hard work taking in the view 

→ oscarpiastri i had a pretty good view afterwards 🛁🫧

user2 idk why but the paint hands make me wanna scream

→ user3 omg i wonder if they made the little hand canvas things loads of couples have done

→ oscarpiastri we did! they’re now hung up over our bed

maxverstappen1 think you can make some more of those flowers for P’s room? 

→ oscarpiastri i’ve got paper cuts on top of paper cuts. don't ask me to do more

→ yn_ln i’ve got loads left over. she can pick the ones she likes best 

user4 the matching pjs 🥰 this couple has my whole heart

→ yn_ln he also has mine! 

user5 i love when oscar’s insta has something other than racing on it

→ user6 i want yn to let us onto hers so bad. i would sell my soul for the couples content on there

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others

yn_ln and it’s done. one week of relaxation left before the new term starts. i can’t wait to meet my new bunch of kids. a huge thank you to my constant kid @/landonorris for his help and mess. and an even bigger gratitude to osc. without you, this never would’ve been finished. you helped not only physically but mentally. my rock 💕

1,681 comments

user7 omg am i seeing things? is this actually oscar’s yn? 

oscarpiastri you did an amazing job 🤍 enjoy your last week off

→ yn_ln you better not win any more races without me

→ mclaren you know he can’t promise that 

landonorris maybe if you had been my teacher, i would’ve stayed in school

→ carlossainz55 doubtful 

maxverstappen1 P can’t wait to be in your class

→ yn_ln and i’m looking forward to being her teacher. although it might be hard to fight the urge to show favouritism 

hattiepiastri ew, don’t be cute online

→ oscarpiastri you're just mad that i'm her favourite piastri

→ hattiepiastri we both know that's a lie

→ nicolepiastri it's me

user8 um, can she be my teacher, please?

charles_leclerc i think this is a sign that i need to have children so that you can become their teacher 

→ alexandrasaintmleux let’s stick with leo for now 

→ nicolepiastri i keep trying to convince oscar and yn. you’ll be next, don’t worry 

→ oscarpiastri you have Skoggie. you don’t need any other grandkids

user9 we’re in! everyone say thank you oscar for making her come off priv

→ user10 their couple content is healing my soul

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Request for F1 fics are open.

A/N: Apologies for the delay in getting these out. I've been super busy making jumpers for my upcoming family Disney trip

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119

[cherry-leclerc]

we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by this !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him. 

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean.  Think back to it quite often."

-

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters. 

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t. 

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones. 

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body. 

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver. 

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower. 

He’s just becoming— too real. 

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his. 

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush. 

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

-

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble. 

-

The start of the season is always tough. 

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of  them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

-

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world. 

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing. 

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention. 

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand. 

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough. 

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles. 

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend? 

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words. 

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing. 

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.” 

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement. 

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

-

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry. 

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room. 

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help. 

Woah, are you feeling alright? 

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.” 

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright. 

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you. 

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter. 

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek. 

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little. 

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration. 

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you. 

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground. 

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open. 

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

-

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver. 

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace. 

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.” 

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.” 

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat. 

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.” 

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose. 

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering. 

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it. 

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers. 

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers. 

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs. 

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess. 

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon. 

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando. 

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.” 

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands. 

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.” 

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.” 

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t  mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him. 

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again. 

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan. 

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing. 

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.” 

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief. 

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.” 

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.�� And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

-

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision. 

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk. 

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing. 

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off. 

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop. 

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you? 

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning. 

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other. 

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry. 

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath. 

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer. 

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning. 

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Lennon gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.   

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

-

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome. 

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando. 

You what? 

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers. 

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that  things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream. 

-

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean. 

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.” 

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still.. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts. 

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice. 

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare me have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to. 

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has. 

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might. 

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, does eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.” 

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct. 

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now. 

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once. 

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it. 

It was never going to be you.

-

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues. 

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt? 

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend. 

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing. 

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head his nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you. 

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded. 

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you? 

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks as tired as you are. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab. 

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough. 

But then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.” 

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring. 

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. 

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.” 

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed me—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

-

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a sheepish laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes. 

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. 

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes. 

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock. 

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it’ll continue for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place. 

“What about me?” 

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

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[kissedsuns]

oscar piastri having you bent over the pool table, his hands gripping yours as they guide the cue stick. you can feel the hard outline of his dick nudging against your ass, the occasional subtle thrust making your poor head spin as he ruts against you with need.

“jus' don't want the pointy end touchin' the play field, kay?” oscar whispers into your ear, the heat of his breath coupled with the subtle vibration of his voice causing you to squirm, instinctively pushing yourself back onto his throbbing cock.

“look at that, baby, you're a natural.” he praises when you finally hit the cue ball, but it barely grazes the others on the table. none of them fall into the pockets, and he’s obviously lying—you’re clumsy. but in your defence, it was all his fault !! how could you focus with him constantly humping you?

after one of the other guys takes his turn, oscar’s hand finds the small of your back again, gently lowering you over the table once more. “remember, baby,” he whispers, his veined hands sliding down the cue stick until they rest atop yours. “nice and patient, take your time.”

you try, you really do, but it’s impossible to concentrate with the way he tugs you slightly backwards so he can feel your ass brush against the hard-on he's sporting inside his pants. it was all too much for your little head.

when you line up for the shot, bottom lip in between your teeth, you attempt to block it all out and focus. sliding the cue stick over your fingers, it makes contact with the ball, and you watch as the balls scatter across the table, one finally dropping into the pocket. “atta girl, i knew you'd get the hang of it.”

you grip the cue stick, offering him a shy smile before he leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss that leaves you dizzy. the boys are too caught up, lining up their shots and cracking jokes, barely noticing when oscar’s hand slips down to find it’s rightful place on your ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

“gonna win f’me, yeah? gonna make me proud?”