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mythicalmaven · 9 months ago

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Beyond Boundaries • Oscar Piastri (PART FIVE)

Masterlist

Yes! You saw it correct! Time for chapter 5 already! <3 cant wait for chapter 6 already I tried something new this chapter & that was including some gifs in the chapter to make it a little more dynamic! It's just a little trial, so please let me know if you liked it or not, so that I know if I should include those more often :) So, just for the record, the chapter isn't finished after the gifs, it continues below the gif! :)

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader (norris!reader) ↳word count: 4.2K ↳ parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, ↳chapter warnings: jealousy, first kiss, smut, 18+ content (mdni!), oral (male!receiving), fingering, emotional rollercoaster, brothers teammate trope, bestfriend!reader

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, Oscar finds himself grappling with unexpected feelings and rising tension, leaving him conflicted about how to handle his emotions

The rest of the holiday went by excruciatingly slow, the interactions between you and Oscar have been limited, you honestly were pretty much unable to look him in the eye, until you were pretty much forced by your job duties. Which meant you both had to put on a straight face and be act like the professional ones. The first time you spoke about what happened during your shared holiday, was the Wednesday before the Australian Grand Prix. You both had to attend the driver's meeting that was planned. His initial behavior towards you was distant and cold, something you completely understand. You had been avoiding him and he obviously noticed that.

Afterwards you had decided to take Oscar aside, asking him if he was okay with having a talk with you. It took you a few days to work up the courage to talk to him. You knew you shouldn't have avoided him for so long, he didn't deserve that treatment and you knew it. The talk with Oscar resulted in a big relief and a reparation of your friendship, a friendship with maybe potential for a little more.

*flashback to wednesday*

The two of you were sitting on the couch in Oscar's drivers' room, both looking at the floor. Talking about what happened during the holiday and how you both felt about it. You apologized to him about the way you handled everything and how you treated him. It was a good and relieving conversation, both glad that you made up. Because the both of you honestly couldn't stand this a day longer.

"I missed you" Oscar mumbled under his breath "I've felt annoyingly incomplete these past days"

You rested your head on his shoulder "I missed you too, Osc" you murmured back at him "I missed our jokes, our silly little facetime calls in the middle of the night, our movie night. I've missed my best friend"

Friendzone, that's what Oscar felt himself getting pushed back into. He rolled his eyes, puffing out a frustrated sigh "Don't you think you should stop calling me that?"

You looked at him confused "What? Why?"

Oscar raised an eyebrow at you, rolling his eyes "I think we both know we crossed that line the moment you gave me a handjob, don't you think?"

You chuckled at him, laughing it off a little "It wasn't just me! You pleasured me too, you know?"

Oscar threw his hands up defensively "Hey! You started it!" he joked back at you.

Another laugh left your lips "Sure, we went beyond boundaries, but that doesn't mean you can't still be my best friend?"

The Australian driver jokingly shot you a suggestive look "What if I don't want to be just your best friend?"

"Osc.." you uttered "We both know we shouldn't go down that road"

"I know, and I agree that it's for the best if we don't, but it doesn't change my feelings for you" he said, verbally admitting his feelings towards you for the first time "I can't change the fact that I'm in love with you"

You looked at him, softly placing a hand on his thigh, trying to comfort both yourself and him. You wanted to kiss him, but you can't, you shouldn't. It tore you apart, but it was for the best. You found yourself unable to reply to his words, too overwhelmed.

"Just be honest with me please, do you have feelings for me?" Oscar asked, placing his hand on top of yours.

You looked at him, his brown eyes meeting yours "Yes"

*back to present*

It was Sunday, which meant it was race day. The race took the least expected turn, which lead to Max not even finishing and Carlos securing another win. The whole ordeal resulting in your brother on the podium for a 3rd place and Oscar finished right behind him in 4th. To say that you were proud, would have been a massive understatement. Event though the boys themselves might be a little disappointed about not reaching the top step, you were over the moon. To celebrate Carlos' victory the drivers had decided to go to a well known nightclub in Melbourne.

You were currently trying to convince Oscar to join the lot of you, which seemed to be a lot more difficult than you would have liked "Come on Oscar! You gotta come!"

Charles piped in, leaning on your shoulder "Yes! Listen to y/n! It won't be as bad as you think!" Charles exclaimed "And! Not entirely unimportant, those nightclubs are full of hot women. You cant convince me that you wouldn't enjoy having a little fun with a gorgeous woman"

"I don't need a random girl twerking on me, thanks. I'm fine where I am" Oscar replied a little uncomfortable. Yes he definitely would enjoy having a little fun with a gorgeous woman; but only if that woman was you.

Charles looked at him and rolled his eyes "Don't be a party pooper, Piastri" he joked, putting his arm around your shoulder, sending Oscar a little puppy dog face "Do it for us?"

"Fine" he huffed, finally giving in

"Yayy!" you cheered, jumping into Oscar's arms, hugging him enthusiastically.

—————⋆₊⁺☾⋆the nightclub⋆☾⋆₊⁺—————

A few hours had passed since you all arrived at the nightclub, one that was pretty private and today only allowed entrance to the drivers, f1 staff and their invitees as well as a few other high established guests. So to speak, it was safe for the drivers to have a fun night out without the media getting involved.

You couldn't deny you might have had a few too many cocktails, completely unaware of just how drunk you were. Oscar stood at the bar, a beer in one hand and the other in his pocket, watching you intently. His gaze was locked on Carlos, who was dancing with you far too sensually for Oscar's liking.

The music thrummed through the room, a sultry beat promising temptation. You felt Carlos's steady hand on your waist as you moved together, the rhythm guiding your steps. His touch was warm and reassuring, but your eyes kept darting over his shoulder, seeking out Oscar.

Oscar stood on the opposite side of the room, his gaze fixed on you. He watched every sway of your hips, every flick of your hair, the intensity in his eyes palpable. You met his stare head-on, a smirk playing on your lips as you leaned closer to Carlos, your fingers trailing lightly down his arm.

You saw the muscle in Oscar's jaw tighten, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Carlos was getting on his nerves today. If he wasn't driving him off the track, he was stealing the girl of his dreams. Yes, Oscar knew he was exaggerating the problem, but with too much beer in his system, he was extra annoyed.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Lando asked, following Oscar's gaze. "Oh, that's what's bothering you," he chuckled.

Oscar and Lando's friendship had fortunately returned to normal quickly after the whole ordeal. After his talk with you, Lando immediately went to Oscar, apologizing for the situation. They discussed many things, including Oscar's feelings for you, which Oscar found incredibly scary due to his previous reaction. Lando admitted he had been too overprotective and childish. He told Oscar he realized he would always be protective over his sister, but if she had to date someone, it might as well be someone he trusted more than anyone, pretty much giving him a green light.

Oscar downed the rest of his beer in one go, almost slamming the glass on the bar, and ordered two shots. "I need more alcohol," he huffed.

"Oscar, she's single and drunk, it doesn't mean anything to her. She probably just wanted to have a little fun and Carlos was at the right place at the right moment" Lando laughed, knowing his sister well. "And besides, I can guarantee you Carlos isn't interested in her that way. They just like to flirt sometimes."

"Yeah, everyone but me," Oscar huffed, handing Lando one of the shots he ordered.

Lando laughed again, rolling his eyes. "That's your own fault, you idiot. You're the one standing by the bar instead of on the dance floor."

"I can't dance," Oscar stated simply, trying not to say too much.

"Mate, if you dance with her, she'll probably take the lead anyway," Lando began, running a hand through his curls, looking back at his sister. "And you're blind as well, by the way."

Oscar gave the Brit a confused look before Lando immediately opened his mouth. "Oscar, it disgusts me to say this because she is my sister. But she's literally undressing you with her eyes. Eww." Lando pulled a disgusted face before continuing. "She's been looking at you pretty much every few seconds. I know my sister; she's one hundred percent trying to make you jealous, mate."

"Even if she is, what am I supposed to do about that?" Oscar scoffed, redirecting his gaze towards you to see if Lando was right. "She's the one who told me we shouldn't be together."

"She said you guys shouldn't date; she didn't say anything about being friends with benefits, did she?" Lando said, pulling yet another disgusted face. "It's honestly downright revolting to talk about my sister doing stuff like that, but someone had to tell you because I'm going insane from all your pining."

While the two boys stood there, Daniel joined them, putting his arm around Lando's shoulder. "Lando is right, you know."

"See! Even Danny agrees!" Lando exclaimed.

Daniel laughed at Lando's enthusiasm, glad to see he made up his mind. "You could always give her a taste of her own medicine. Go dance with my sister over there," he said, pointing at the brunette dancing with Pierre and Charles. "Just whisper in her ear that I sent you and that you need to make Y/N jealous, and I'm sure she'll play along."

"Daniel, how do you expect me to do that? I have the social skills of a peanut," Oscar replied.

The two boys laughed at Oscar, finding it incredibly funny how awkward he could be. "Just go! Go with the flow, come on, live a little!"

"Ugh, fine," Oscar huffed, a sigh of annoyance leaving his lips as he walked off towards the crowd of people on the dance floor.

Lando looked back at Daniel, giving him a smirk. "Mint."

"It's funny to see how quick you turned around. I'm proud of you, though," Daniel told Lando, still leaning his head on the younger one's shoulder.

"Would be a little hypocritical of me, now wouldn't it?" Lando replied, turning around in Daniel's arms, giving him a quick, sneaky peck on the cheek before pulling away quickly to make sure no one saw.

"Honestly surprised she hasn't figured it out yet. We've been a little too obvious, no?" Daniel asked.

Lando chuckled, taking a sip from his drink. "And that's exactly why she hasn't caught on to it yet. I'll tell her eventually, though."

Meanwhile Lando and Daniel were talking, Oscar was already on the dance floor, his arms around Michelle, Daniel's sister. He explained his plan to her, which she replied to with a roll of her eyes and a giggle, but gladly agreed to. It felt wrong, horribly wrong. The alcohol was making it a lot easier, kinda served as liquid courage.

"She's looking" Daniel's sister whispered in his ear, gliding her arms over his back.

As the music shifted to a slower, more sensual rhythm, he pulled her close, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony. He whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, her hand resting comfortably on his shoulder.

You felt a sharp pang of jealousy twist in your gut. Carlos must have sensed the change in your demeanor because he gave you a questioning look. But you were too focused on the scene unfolding before you to offer any explanation.

Oscar's hand was low on Michelle's back, guiding her movements with a practiced ease. She looked up at him through her lashes, a playful smile on her lips, and he responded with a grin of his own, his eyes flicking to you for the briefest of moments. It was a challenge, a direct provocation.

Determined not to let him see how much it affected you, you pressed closer to Carlos, your movements becoming more fluid and seductive. You laughed at something Carlos whispered, but the sound was hollow even to your own ears.

Across the room, Oscar spun Michelle, his hand lingering on hers a fraction longer than necessary. He dipped her, their faces inches apart, and your heart raced with a mixture of anger and something you didn't want to name. When he pulled her back up, their gazes locked, and the air between them seemed as though it crackled with unspoken tension.

But it was the look he shot you afterward, a look filled with defiance and raw emotion, that made your breath catch. The dance floor had become a battleground, each movement a strategic play in a game of jealousy and desire. And neither of you was willing to back down.

Carlos's hand slid up your arm, his touch gentle but firm, grounding you. "You okay?" he murmured, concern lacing his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, just... caught up in the moment."

But as you glanced back at Oscar, now laughing with Michelle as if nothing else mattered, you knew the truth. The moment was far from over, and the stakes had never been higher.

"You're trying to make him jealous, aren't you?" Carlos whispered in your ear, a smirk growing on his lips.

"Duh, obviously" you retorted, pulling the Spaniard even closer, your arms around his neck inching his face even closer to you.

"Well, I think it's working. He's coming over" he spoke in a low voice "Keep your eyes on me until he's here, cariño"

You tried your best not to look behind you, feeling the adrenaline surge through your body, nerves overwhelming you. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your arm, the familiar warmth of Oscar's fingers enclosing your upper arm, pulling you out of Carlos' grasp. You looked into his eyes, and before you could react, he cupped your cheek in his hand and smashed his lips to yours.

The kiss was fierce and urgent, a release of all the emotions both of you had been holding back. His lips moved against yours with a desperate intensity, and you matched his fervor, your hands flying to his shoulders, then tangling in his hair. You could taste the faint bitterness of beer on his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine.

Oscar's other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your bodies moved in sync, pressing against each other as if trying to meld together. You tugged at his hair, eliciting a low groan from him that you felt reverberate through your own chest.

The kiss grew messier, more frantic, fueled by the alcohol coursing through your veins. His hands roamed your back, gripping and kneading, while your fingers traced the line of his jaw, down to his neck, then back up to his hair. The world around you blurred into nothingness; there was only Oscar, his touch, his taste, his heat.

Eventually, the need for air forced you both to break apart, but only just. Your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. His eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted, and you could feel his heartbeat echoing the wild rhythm of your own.

Oscar's voice was a rough whisper as he spoke, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

You nodded slightly, your fingers still tangled in his hair. "Me too."

For a moment, neither of you moved, savoring the closeness, the shared warmth, the unspoken promise hanging in the air. The nightclub continued to pulse around you, but in that moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

Oscar pressed his lips to yours again, more a short brush of your lips this time "Come back to the hotel with me? No strings attached" he proposed, his voice a little husky.

That's how you both ended up in the elevator, on its way to the floor where both of your hotel rooms were located. Oscar had pinned you against the elevator wall, his lips feverishly peppering your neck with kisses, unable to hold back. His hands roamed from your back to your stomach, slipping under your top to grab your hips, his thumbs pressing into your hipbones.

"I need you so bad, love," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and ragged.

"Fuck, Osc— I-I need you too," you moaned out, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer.

His mouth moved up to capture your lips in a searing kiss, tongues tangling with a desperation that made your head spin. You could taste the remnants of alcohol on his tongue, mixed with the raw desire that fueled both of you. Your hands explored his body, fingers slipping under his shirt to feel the hard muscles of his back, the heat of his skin.

Oscar's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him. The elevator hummed around you, but all you could focus on was the sensation of his hands, his mouth, his body pressing into yours. He trailed kisses along your jawline, nipping at your earlobe before returning to your lips with renewed hunger.

You arched into him, your back pressing harder against the cool metal wall of the elevator. The contrast between the cold surface and Oscar's fiery touch sent shivers down your spine. His hands slid up, pushing your top higher, his fingers splaying over your ribs as if trying to memorize every inch of your skin.

"Oscar," you breathed, your voice a mix of urgency and need.

He responded with a low growl, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that stole your breath away. One hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his other hand gripped your waist, anchoring you to him. The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival at the desired floor, but neither of you moved, lost in the moment.

Reluctantly, Oscar broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes burned with desire as they locked onto yours. "You okay with my hotel room?" he asked in a whisper, his voice husky with promise

You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the kiss. Hand in hand, you stumbled out of the elevator, anticipation thrumming through your veins as you made your way to Oscar's room, ready to lose yourselves in each other.

Oscar reached inside of his pockets to grab his keycard, fumbling with it to open the door. When he finally managed to open it, he pulled you inside with him. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Oscar pinned you against the wall, his body pressing into yours. His breath was hot against your ear as he murmured huskily, "I can't wait any longer."

His lips found yours in a heated kiss, his hands roaming your body with a desperate need. One hand slid up under your top, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, while the other moved lower, slipping under your skirt. You gasped as his fingers brushed against your inner thigh, teasingly close to where you ached for him.

"Oscar," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. "You have no idea how much I want you," he whispered seductively, his lips grazing your jawline.

His fingers found their way to your core, slipping beneath the fabric of your panties. You moaned softly as he began to caress you, his touch both gentle and insistent. His other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head so he could claim your lips once more.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I need to make you feel good."

You could only respond with a whimper, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his fingers moved with expert precision. He circled your sensitive nub, then slipped a finger inside you, his thumb still working on your clit. The dual sensations had you arching into him, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"That's it, love," he purred, his lips now trailing down your neck. "Let go for me."

He added another finger, curling them just right, and your world narrowed down to the feel of his touch and the sound of his voice. His whispered sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he needed you, how he wanted to watch you come undone.

Your body responded to his every word, the tension building inside you until it was almost unbearable. "Oscar," you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

"I've got you," he breathed softly, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing more firmly. "Come for me, love."

With a cry, you shattered around him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure coursed through you. He held you through it, his fingers still working you gently, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm.

When you finally came down, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing heavily. He withdrew his hand, bringing it up to cradle your face as he kissed you tenderly, his touch now soft and soothing.

"You're amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with love and awe.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the physical pleasure. "So are you," you replied breathlessly, your fingers tracing his jawline "I need you to fuck me, Osc"

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I don't want to remember my first time with you as a drunk encounter against my hotel room door." he admitted, honesty evident in his voice.

"At least let me make you feel good then" you smiled at him, feeling a sudden boost of confidence taking you over as you flipped the two of you around, Oscar now being the one pinned to the wall. You send him a lustful look and sank to your knees, looking up at him with (not so) innocent eyes.

Oscar let his head fall back against the wall, letting out a soft groan as he felt your hands explore his thighs. His hands moving to your hair, tangling his fingers in it. You fingers were moving extremely slowly, fully on purpose, trying to make the young Australian go insane. You carefully unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling it down his thighs. You used your teeth to pull his boxers down, causing Oscar to let out an almost embarrassing whine "Fucking tease" he uttered, his voice nothing but a rough whisper.

You lips traveled from his abdomen to his thighs and back, placing soft kisses everywhere, except for where he needed your lips the most. The sensation was electric as your lips met Oscar's skin, biting, sucking, and leaving a trail of marks in their wake.

Oscar tugged at your hair and moaned out loud as you finally closed your lips around the head of his cock, sucking softly. Your mouth felt even better than it did in his fantasies, Oscar felt like he was in heaven. He didn't want to feel like a teenager and cum too quickly, but the alcohol in his system and the way you worked your magic on him, caused the knot in his stomach to tighten quickly. Adrenaline and heat moving through his body, taking a tighter grip on your hair "Fuck, y/n"

You licked and sucked, causing Oscar's breath to get caught in his throat. Tongue dancing over the sensitive flesh, coaxing a gasp from Oscar. Each movement sent waves of extreme pleasure coursing through his body, moans only growing louder every second. Unable to hold back the sound escaping his lips.

You then took his whole length in your mouth, your nose almost touching his abs, before releasing most of his member, except for the tip. You looked up at him through your lashes as you twirled your tongue against the underside of his cock "F-Fuck... wait" Oscar uttered, stumbling on his words, his breath coming out in ragged puffs.

You pulled off him for a little while and looked at him, a little concerned "What's wrong?" you asked softly

"F-Fuck, I'll come if you do that again"

A smirk formed on your lips, Oscar's dick disappears back between your lips. You bob your head up and down again, the rhythm pretty much perfect for Oscar. Another satisfied moan escapes his lips, right before you repeat your previous action, immediately feeling his himself get closer to the edge. He tried to pull you off his cock, but you refused, only sucking him harder, your eyes meeting his again.

Oscar feels his orgasm washing over him in a way he has never experienced before, emptying himself in your mouth. You swallowed it all, before slowly pulling away, before you slowly rose from your knees, wiping your lips with the back of you hand. Your lips were puffy and red, your hair a mess. The sight of it almost enough to make Oscar get hard all over again.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

previous part | next part

Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28

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papaya-queen · 11 months ago

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Teenage Dirtbag babyy !! - F2/3/F1 academy grid

my first smau - please be kind I’m new with the tools

Y/N x Paul Aron - Ollie Bearman x Andrea Kimi Antonelli - Abbi Pulling x Doriane Pin

Later - 3 am

Yourusername

Yourusername I’m just a teenage dirtbag babyyy

tagged : paularon_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, racerbia and 6 others

User1 young drivers on social media are a blessing

User2 WAIT IS THAT OLLIE AND KIMI ?!!

User3 AND DORIANE AND ABBI ?!!

maxverstappen1 stop posting on social media and answer our calls

User4 oh to be a part of that friend group …

Racerbia

Racerbia never let Y/N plan the hangout

tagged : yourusername, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, paularon_ and 6 others

Yourusername hey !!! It was amazing !

User6 AFTER BEARNELLI AND PINING WE GOT PAULY/N ?!!!

Arvid.lindblad actually the best hangout of my life

Yourusername finally who someone likes my hangout plan

Landonorris wait until tomorrow morning

The next day

Sunlight was already picking through the curtains when Y/N woke up. Her head was hurting, like someone was hitting it from inside. She tried to get herself up, but some weight was keeping her pinned against the mattress. She turned her head and saw a blond head she knew too well. Sure, her and Paul were big on physical touch but sleeping like this never happened. She carefully shifted to see the room without letting go of Paul’s embrace.

Y/N observed the room and the people in it. She could recognize Kimi and Ollie on the couch opposed to her, the older spooning the other. She had a moment of confusion, but she knew Kimi and Ollie had always been big on PDA even as friends. She kept looking around, checking if all her friends did make it back to the apartment. Arvid, Dino, Maya and Bianca were all sleeping on the floor with some blanket resting on them. And on the armchair, you could find Abbi and Doriane literally glued to each other, managing to fit in the tight chair. Y/N tried to get up to go eat something but all the moving and shifting in Paul’s arm woke him up.

“Hi princess!” he said with the sleepiest voice ever.

“Hi baby!” she responded, hugging him tighter.

Then she got up, after spending a few minutes convincing Paul to let her go. Y/N walked to the kitchen, open the door and faced Charles, Max, Oscar and Lewis. She brutally closed the door before reopening it. “Good morning, everybody!”

“Good afternoon actually!” Charles pointing the clock on the wall. He was right, it was indeed way past noon. 3pm actually.

“So, what’s the reason for the visit?” said Y/N trying to act cool in front of her 4 grid-dad.

“Humm…You don’t remember last night, do you?” Oscar asked.

“Euuh no …?” She responded.

“Well, we have a little explanation to do when everyone wakes up” Oscar sighed.

Max stood up and entered the living room to shout, “EVERYONE WAKES UP NOW!” The mass of teen made a groaning sound, some of them complaining about their head. There was also some confusion like Abbi and Dorianne who were looking at each other, not understanding the how and why they were like this. Same for Kimi and Ollie. After a couple minutes, the other older driver entered the room and told everyone to sit and listen to them.

“You kids are fucking mental; you should definitely know that! Before we start scolding each of you, do you actually remember what happened yesterday?” Charles was endorsing his role as the principal grid-dad of those kids.

“I remember that we met up here, we drank maybe one or two beers then we went to the bar.” said Kimi, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, and Y/N picked up a worksite cone and put it on her head.” Gaby completed.

“I remember something about Ollie and Kimi, and Abbi and Dorianne, like they kissed or something like that” Arvid said earning some weird looks from the four.

Bianca finished their story and added “I remember Y/N got stuck on a tree, we called Oscar to help but Paul got her back before he arrived.”

“Well we have a base to work on” Max said pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s actually not that bad, I thought they would black out like completely.” said Lewis.

“So kids, you all got wasted at the bar and started doing random shit, like sitting on rooftops, stealing shopping carts, scooters and you also did some private things, you should check your insta especially Bianca and Y/N” Charles resumed the whole night and let all the teens check on their insta and realized all the things they did while he decided with the others grid-dads to post something to try to peace the situation.

Charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 2 others

Charles_leclerc why did we have to adopt that many teens?

Tagged yourusername, paularon_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli and 7 others

Olliebearman we’re sorry dad 😖🥺

Yourusername speak for yourself

User8 the dads regretting their choice 🤣😭

Paularon_ it hurts but it was amazing

User7 The Bearnelli and PaulY/N pic 🥹

Dinobeganovic_ never let me have alcohol ever again

Maya_weug same

Gabrieleminiofficial same

____

well that's it ! I'm kinda proud of this, i hope you're gonna love this as much as me ! byye :)

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shellybee456 · 1 year ago

Text

Fuck It, It's Fine

February 2025, Monaco

1 week to the first 2024 car reveal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Émilie stared at her phone.

Haven't heard from you in a couple of months

But I'm out right now, and I'm all fucked up

And you're callin' my phone, you're all alone

And I'm sensin' some undertone.

She was at a bar in Monaco with her friends, having stepped over to their reserved table to get a drink when her phone started ringing.

Émilie took another sip of her drink and watched it ring.

She should have him blocked.

Like she'd done with all her other exes.

And I'm right here with all my friends

But you're sendin' me your new address

But he was also her best friend’s teammate.

She continued to stare at the phone even after he stopped calling, watching as a notification popped up.

"Everything alright Ém?" Danny asked, appearing beside her.

Émilie nodded and picked up her phone. "Yeah, just a text. I'll be back out on the floor soon."

Danny nodded and grinned at her before walking away.

She tapped on his text, watching as her phone unlocked with Face ID and opened her messages.

She'd deleted his messages right after their fight, too disgusted and angry with him to continue to see them on her phone.

And I know we're done, I know we're through

But, God, when I look at you

She should have picked a worse photo for his profile picture. But then again, Émilie wasn't the smartest person on the grid.

My brain goes, "Ah"

Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Plus they were sort of friends again.

Kinda.

Ish.

The confessions and hurtful words they'd exchanged still hung between them, making the air awkward any time they were left alone.

Then of course there was the night Émilie was refusing to acknowledge.

She hadn't told Elena about that just yet, not quite ready to admit that lapse in judgment out loud.

But she had told her everything else about her and Lando's fallout.

"Who are you texting?" Elena asked, carrying two shots to the table.

"An ex." Émilie copied the address he'd sent her and put it into Uber, out of curiosity.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

She took another sip of her drink, waiting for the app to load.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

10 minutes wasn't bad. And the Uber could be at the bar in 5. Her thumb hovered over the confirmation button.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Fuck. That night still haunted her in her weaker, lonelier moments.

Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine

"Oh? Are we still pretending you don't like him?"

Émilie glanced up, rolling her eyes at her older sister's suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

"I only see him as a friend," the biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

"We've talked about this Lena." Emilie huffed in annoyance. "We're just friends, back to what we used to be."

Elena didn't look the least bit convinced but thankfully she didn't press further, instead holding up the shot. "Yeah, like y'all were ever just friends. Shots?"

Émilie nodded, setting her phone face down on the table, Uber temporarily ignored.

Both sisters took the shots and Émilie shook her head at the burn. Drinking Tequila wasn't a problem for Émilie having grown up with a Spanish half-sister, but shots of the alcohol always burned going down.

"I might go home early," Émilie said, raising her voice over the sudden roar of the room. Quickly she added, "I have to be in Switzerland tomorrow for little Emilie's birthday. Seb said he'd disown me if I wasn't there."

Elena nodded, "want Osc to take you home?"

Émilie shook her head and held up her phone, "I'm just gonna Uber."

Thankfully her inebriated sister took the lie at face value and gave Émilie a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"See you on Monday, chaton, okay?"

Émilie nodded and grabbed her purse before making her way outside to wait for Uber.

She looked at her phone and sent a message to Oscar (the only other person who knew about that night.) and asked him to distract Elena and keep her off her phone until she had to fly to Milton Keynes.

She watched his text bubble appear, disappear, and reappear several times before he sent a message.

Aussie buzzkill: Yeah I got you.

Aussie buzzkill: Don't do anything stupid, please.

She hearted his messages but didn't reply since her Uber showed up.

Now I'm gettin' in the car, wreckin' all my plans

I know I should stop-, but I can't

But mostly because she was about to do something stupid.

And I told my friends I was asleep

But I never said where or in whose sheets

The shot she'd done with Elena before leaving kept her mind pleasantly quiet, letting Émilie mindlessly browse Instagram on the short drive to his apartment building.

She thanked the driver and collected her purse from the seat beside her and walked into the lobby.

And I pull up to your place, on the second floor

And you're standin', smiling at the door

She buzzed his apartment and was unsurprisingly let in immediately.

She walked down the hall to the elevator and pressed the button, taking her up to his floor.

His place was only a few doors down, the door wide open with him leaning against the doorframe waiting for her.

And I'm sure I've seen much hotter men

But I really can't remember when

Lando’s curly hair was mussed, a few stray curls hanging down against his forehead and the top two buttons of his black button down were open.

He must have been out partying too, but 1 am was an awfully early time to call it quits.

He grinned at her, that stupid, smug grin that infuriated and made her warm in all the right places.

He had a glass of something alcoholic hanging loosely from his hand, which he lifted to his lips.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

He was really fucking hot.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

And He knew it.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

"Hey, Princess. You look flustered."

Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A story I wrote in my best friend @fictional-babes-inc and I's Formula One dr. I might write a part 2 of what happens after.

Émilie and Elena are half-sisters and racers on the grid, Émilie races for Redbull, and Elena raced for Mercedes from 2019 until she became Émilie's race Engineer in 2023. Émilie and Lando are the same age, but Emilie made her F1 debut in 2022. Émilie, Logan, and Oscar are best friends, having grown up karting together.

#lando norris #ln4+ea69 #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #daniel ricciardo #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #driver!reader #mutual pining #one night stands

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julietsf1 · 1 month ago

Text

The Line We Never Crossed - Lando Norris x Reader

summary: Lando Norris has been treating you like an afterthought all season, which would be fine if you hadn’t nearly kissed him last year. your new job in the paddock means you can’t avoid him, and his petty cold shoulder act is starting to feel personal. (7.5k words)

content: mutual pining, second-chance romance, slow-burn, Oscar being an instigator, French

AN: coucou mes anges <3 another one for you! big thanks for the overwhelming enthusiasm on my last lando fic :) it means a lot!!

...........................................................................

The night hummed with life; laughter spilling from Charles’s yacht, the distant pop of champagne corks, music vibrating through the decks. Monte Carlo never slept after a race, and tonight was no exception. The lights, the sound, the weight of celebration pressed in from all sides.

You’d only meant to escape for a minute. Just a moment to breathe.

But Lando had followed.

Now, the two of you sat at the edge of the dock, heels discarded beside you, the water lapping gently beneath your feet. The night air was thick with salt and summer, warm against your skin.

You’re alone.

The realization settled uncomfortably in your stomach.

Not because you didn’t want to be—you did—but because you weren’t sure why he was here, or what this was.

It wasn’t unusual, not exactly. You’d been friends for a while, hovering in the same circles, both Monaco-based when you weren’t traveling, and yet—this felt different.

Like a moment suspended between something and nothing.

Lando stretched beside you, legs outstretched, arms braced behind him. Then, with a casual sort of amusement, he murmured, “So, I heard you liked my curly hair.”

You turned to him immediately, narrowing your eyes.

"What?"

His grin was insufferable. "That’s what they’re saying.”

"Who’s ‘they’?"

"The people. The masses."

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Your sources are questionable."

"So you’re not denying it?"

You bit back a smile, nudging him with your knee. “Lando, I swear—”

His laugh was soft, curling at the edges.

You turned away, looking out toward the water instead.

The sea stretched endlessly, a dark expanse under the moon, dotted with distant lights from other yachts, other parties. The breeze carried the faintest hint of salt and champagne, warm and sticky against your skin.

You felt his gaze before you saw it.

When you glanced back, he was already looking at you.

The shift was barely noticeable, except suddenly the air felt heavier.

His hand inched closer—just enough for his fingers to ghost the wooden dock beside yours.

Your pulse spiked.

He leaned in.

Not dramatically. Not like some grand, sweeping moment in a film. It was slower, more uncertain—like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to.

Like he was waiting for you to stop him.

And you didn’t.

Your breath hitched.

Your body tilted, drawn into him like some unseen force, a thread tugging in the space between.

His fingertips brushed yours.

And then—

You both froze.

The spell broke.

The weight of reality crashed in, sharp and immediate.

What the hell are we doing?

You pulled back first. Forced out a small, awkward laugh.

Lando blinked, startled, his own body shifting back a second later. He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his curls, looking away like if he didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t be real.

Silence.

Thick and suffocating.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the distance—or lack thereof.

Before either of you could say something, a voice cut through the night.

"Lando!"

Someone from the boat.

You turned toward the sound, blinking back into reality, the moment collapsing between you like a house of cards.

Lando hesitated—just for a second—then pushed himself up, brushing his hands against his jeans.

"Guess I should go."

"Yeah." Your voice came out quieter than you intended.

He didn’t move right away.

For a brief, fleeting second, you thought he might say something.

Then he just nodded, something unreadable flickering across his face before he turned and walked back toward the yacht.

You watched him go.

Your hands curled into fists against the wood.

The moment was gone.

…

The first time you see Lando Norris again, it’s almost anti-climactic.

No dramatic moment. No sharp intake of breath. No heart-stopping, soul-shattering collision of past and present. Just a stupidly hot Thursday afternoon in the Melbourne paddock, your brand-new team lanyard digging into the back of your neck, and the sudden realization that he’s here.

Which—obviously, he is. It’s the first race of the season, and this is his job. Just like it’s yours now.

Still, the knowledge sits awkwardly in your chest, the same way your new role at LVMH has been sitting awkwardly on your shoulders all week.

The partnership between Formula 1 and LVMH had been a big deal—a high-profile luxury collaboration that had the marketing team scrambling. When you’d been handed the opportunity to coordinate the on-site activations, it had seemed perfect. A step up, a challenge, an exciting, high-speed world that you’d already known intimately through years of association.

It had taken all of two minutes to realize the one major flaw in that plan.

You were going to see him.

Not just in passing, but constantly. Every weekend. Every city. Every press day and paddock club event and race debrief.

You’d thought you’d be fine.

And then, of course, you actually got here.

The Australian heat clings to you, sweat beading at the base of your neck as you weave through the paddock, passing familiar faces and nodding to a few you don’t quite know yet. It’s barely midday, but the place is alive—reporters setting up, engineers darting between garages, photographers angling for early shots of the drivers.

And then you spot Charles and Oscar.

Charles is leaning against a barrier near the Ferrari hospitality entrance, dressed in his usual paddock-day attire—team-issued shirt, sunglasses, that effortlessly casual Monaco ease that somehow never looks sweaty, even in 30-degree weather.

He grins when he spots you.

Oscar, beside him, looks as serious as ever, though his eyes flick over to you with mild interest.

"Ah, look who it is," Charles says, a grin curling at the edge of his mouth.

"Miss me already?" you reply smoothly.

"Obviously," he says, pulling you in for a brief hug.

Charles adjusts his sunglasses, smirking. “So, have you seen your favorite papaya yet?”

Your stomach plummets.

"Papaya?" Oscar echoes, head tilting slightly. "Wait—she’s friends with Lando?"

"Friends is a strong word," you say immediately.

"Oh, they go way back," Charles adds, clearly enjoying himself.

Oscar perks up like a cat spotting something mildly entertaining. "This is brand-new, highly relevant information. Why was I not briefed?"

"Because there’s nothing to brief you on," you say flatly.

"See, the fact that you’re saying that makes me think there’s everything to brief me on," Oscar counters.

"Agreed," Charles nods, pleased.

"Alright," Oscar clasps his hands together, "give me the timeline. We talking childhood friends? F1-era friends? Lovers turned enemies? Enemies turned lovers?"

"Oh my god," you mutter.

"I’m just collecting data," Oscar says innocently.

"Don’t worry, mate, I have the data," Charles cuts in.

Your stomach drops.

"Charles," you warn.

But he’s already too deep.

"So," Charles leans in like he’s about to deliver groundbreaking gossip, "Monaco, last year. My yacht afterparty. Except these two were not at the party because they were too busy having a moment on the dock."

Oscar’s eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, now we’re talking."

"Alone," Charles continues, "feet in the water, looking all dramatic under the moonlight—"

"That’s not what happened," you cut in.

"I choose to believe it is," Oscar says.

"Anyway," Charles waves a hand, "it was tense. And then—get this—Lando leans in."

Oscar immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. "No. Way."

"Way," Charles nods.

"And then?"

"And then... nothing."

Oscar looks personally offended. "So, they didn’t kiss?"

"Nope."

"Did they talk about it after?"

"Not even once."

Oscar blinks.

Then he turns to you, dead serious.

"So what you’re telling me is that I’ve had to listen to Lando talk about absolute nonsense for an entire year, and this—which is actually interesting—never once came up?"

"Apparently," Charles smirks.

Oscar shakes his head, sighing. "Honestly, I feel betrayed."

"Well, he’s been avoiding me since I got here, so the story ends ," you added, shooting daggers at Charles.

"Oh, that’s just classic repressed feelings," Oscar says without hesitation.

"Thank you," Charles grins.

"It’s textbook," Oscar agrees.

"I hate you both."

"Deflection," Oscar says immediately.

"Textbook," Charles repeats.

Before you can actually walk away, the air shifts.

And then—Lando walks in.

Lando moves through the paddock the same way he always does—brimming with energy, unapologetically loud, just a little bit chaotic, like a human embodiment of a high-voltage current. It’s almost impressive, really, how someone can be so unrelentingly themselves at all times.

And yet, at this moment, it’s also deeply annoying.

Oscar and Charles, mid-conversation, immediately stop talking. Not in a natural, casual way, but in the very deliberate, slightly too-obvious way of people who are absolutely clocking the tension.

You resist the urge to fidget, to adjust your stance or smooth down your shirt or do literally anything other than exist in his vicinity. Instead, you steel yourself, ignoring the way your pulse ticks just a little too fast, and force yourself to look entirely unbothered.

Lando doesn’t see you at first.

His attention lands on Oscar, and with his usual grin, he strides forward.

"What’s up, mate?"

Before Oscar can respond, Lando reaches out and promptly ruffles his hair like an annoying older brother, sending it into a complete mess.

"Jesus—" Oscar immediately flails, swatting his hands away.

Lando just laughs, completely undeterred, before turning his attention to Charles.

"Mate," he greets, clapping a firm hand on Charles’s shoulder, nodding like they’re about to discuss something profoundly important.

And then, finally—his eyes land on you.

It happens fast, but you still catch the moment of hesitation. The flicker of recognition, the slight pause, the way his expression doesn’t quite shift but still seems to hold something uncertain.

Like he wasn’t expecting you.

Like he doesn’t quite know what to do with the fact that you’re standing right there.

It lasts for less than a second, barely a blink.

And then—just as quickly—it’s gone.

His face smooths back into its usual easy confidence, and without so much as a hello, a nod, anything, he simply turns back to Oscar.

"Let’s go. Time for interviews."

And just like that, he’s gone.

Just like that, you don’t exist.

Oscar’s jaw actually drops. Charles lets out a low whistle, slowly pushing his sunglasses up his nose like he just witnessed something highly entertaining.

Your stomach twists, but you keep your expression neutral, steady.

"Well," Charles murmurs after a beat, exhaling dramatically, "that was dramatic."

Oscar leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s about to deliver classified information.

"He just sneakily glanced at her before leaving,"

You shoot him a sharp glare.

"Drop it."

Oscar grins, miming a zip across his lips, but the way his eyes glint with curiosity tells you this is far from over.

…

The Miami Grand Prix shouldn’t feel like a fever dream. And yet, as you step into the nightclub where McLaren’s victory party is already in full swing, that’s exactly what it is.

The music pulses through the air, the bass thrumming beneath your feet. Neon lights flicker, casting glows of electric blue and deep orange across the space, the colors mirroring the McLaren celebration. Champagne bottles pop in the distance, drinks spill, bodies move to the beat. It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s exactly the kind of place where reality warps, where things feel less real and more like a scene you’ll have to piece together tomorrow.

Lando won today. Not just a podium, but a full-fledged victory.

McLaren’s third 1-2 of the season. A statement race. A moment that will be replayed for years.

It’s everything he’s worked for. Everything he deserves.

So it should be easy—normal—to just be happy for him. To raise a glass, toast to his success, and not feel the sting of something unnamed creeping in around the edges.

"Tu es avec nous ou bien tu es partie dans tes pensées, là?" (Are you with us, or have you disappeared into your thoughts?)

A hand waves in front of your face, snapping you back to reality.

You blink, refocusing on Alexandra, who looks highly amused, her long dark hair shining under the blue-tinged club lights. Beside her, Charles is watching with thinly veiled smugness.

"Hein?" (Huh?)

"Elle plane complètement," (She’s totally zoning out) Charles quips, nudging Alexandra.

"Grave," (Seriously,) Alexandra agrees, smirking. She leans in slightly, voice dropping into a low, teasing lilt. "À quoi tu penses, ma belle? Ou… à qui?" (What are you thinking about, beautiful? Or… who?)

You immediately roll your eyes.

"Vous êtes insupportables," (You two are unbearable) you grumble, taking a sip of your drink.

"On t’adore aussi," (We love you too) Charles grins, entirely unbothered.

"D’ailleurs," (By the way) Alexandra says, tilting her head knowingly. "C’est quoi cette histoire avec Oscar?" (What’s this thing with Oscar?)

"Quoi? Rien," (What? Nothing) you say automatically.

"Ohhh, rien du tout?" (Ohhh, nothing at all?) she presses, eyebrows raised. "Parce que franchement, vous êtes inséparables ces derniers temps." (Because honestly, you two have been inseparable lately.)

"Bah ouais," (Well yeah) Charles hums thoughtfully, nursing his drink. Then, as if on cue, he grins knowingly. "Mais non, elle aime bien les Brits." (But no, she likes Brits.)

You whip around, giving him a look. "Excuse-moi?" (Excuse me?)

"C’est vrai," (It’s true) Charles insists, laughing as he leans back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.

You cut him off immediately with a playful punch to his shoulder.

"Ferme-la," (Shut up) you mutter, though your lips twitch slightly.

"Aïe," (Ow) Charles grips his arm dramatically. "T’as vu comment elle me traite, Alexandra?" (Did you see how she treats me, Alexandra?)

"Je pense qu’elle se défend bien," (I think she’s just defending herself) Alexandra muses, smiling behind her drink.

Charles exhales, shaking his head. "Bref, parlons des choses sérieuses." (Anyway, let’s talk about serious matters)

You shoot him a warning look. "Si c’est encore un commentaire sur les Brits—" (If it’s another comment about the Brits—)

"J’allais dire qu’on devrait aller s’asseoir, mais bon," (I was going to say we should find a table, but okay) Charles smirks, standing up.

You glare, but follow.

Finding a spot isn’t easy—the entire club is a chaotic mess of celebrating McLaren personnel, F1 drivers, and the usual crowd that comes with a high-profile post-race party.

Eventually, the three of you manage to claim a booth toward the side, partially tucked away from the main dance floor.It’s the perfect vantage point—close enough to feel the energy, far enough to actually hold a conversation.

You barely have time to settle in before a familiar voice chimes in.

"Ah, you actually came."

You look up just in time to see Oscar sliding into the seat across from you, grinning.

"Did you think I wouldn’t?" you quip.

"Honestly? Wasn’t sure," Oscar admits, raising an eyebrow. "But I’m glad you’re here. McLaren’s big night. Wouldn’t be the same without you."

You snort. "Oh yeah, because I’m so crucial to the McLaren garage."

"Exactly," he nods, completely serious.

You roll your eyes, but there’s warmth behind it.

"Anyway, get up," Oscar says, standing again. "We’re getting drinks."

"I have a drink," you point out, lifting your glass.

"Yeah, but I don’t, and I’m using you as an excuse to escape whatever conversation Charles is about to start."

You glance back at Charles, who is currently mid-sentence with Alexandra, looking vaguely philosophical.

You stand. "Good call."

Oscar drags you through the crowd with practiced ease, weaving past clusters of people already deep into celebratory rounds. The bass thrums through the floor, conversations blend into the music, and somewhere across the room, someone pops open another bottle of champagne. The whole night feels like it exists in a strange, weightless bubble, detached from reality.

By the time you reach the bar, the air feels heavier, the neon glow casting everything in shades of electric blue and orange. Oscar leans against the counter, exhaling like he’s just completed a mission.

"Alright," he sighs, nodding toward the bartender. "Now we can finally talk without being interrogated."

You snort, crossing your arms. "Big words from someone who’s been doing plenty of interrogating himself tonight."

"I prefer the term ‘investigative journalism,’" Oscar corrects smoothly, his tone just dry enough to make you huff out a laugh.

You shake your head, amused despite yourself, despite the way something unsettled lingers in your chest.

"By the way," Oscar adds casually, glancing over at you with a knowing look. "You look stunning tonight."

You narrow your eyes. "Flattery? What do you want?"

"You to stop pretending," he replies, flagging down the bartender.

Your stomach tugs slightly, a quiet warning.

"Pretending about what?"

Oscar doesn’t even bother looking at you as he gestures vaguely toward the dance floor. "That you’re over it."

You hesitate, fingers tapping against the bar.

"It doesn’t matter anymore," you say after a beat.

"Right," Oscar says, completely unconvinced. "Which is exactly why you’re about to spend the next five minutes trying not to look at him."

"I’m not—"

And then, before you can finish the thought, your gaze flickers toward the dance floor.

Lando is there.

The neon glow casts sharp edges over his features, blue light catching in the waves of his hair. He’s grinning, saying something to the woman pressed close to his side. Tall, gorgeous, the kind of effortless beauty that doesn’t require second-guessing. She tilts her head, lips barely brushing his ear, laughing at whatever he’s whispered.

His hand rests on her waist, fingers light but familiar.

A dull pressure settles in your chest, creeping in before you can push it away.

You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything. That it’s normal, expected. That after all this time, you shouldn’t be feeling anything at all.

And yet—

Just as the thought forms, Lando’s gaze lifts.

The second his eyes meet yours, it’s like something tightens, sharpens, pulling everything into focus.

Even across the room, you feel the weight of it.

Neither of you move.

The music swells, bodies shift, champagne glasses clink, but the moment stretches longer than it should.

Then—without hesitation, he spins her.

It’s smooth, calculated in a way that feels deliberate, too easy to be accidental. His back turns, breaking the connection between you like a slammed door.

Oscar watches the entire thing unfold.

After a beat, he exhales, turning back toward the bar, plastering on the most exaggeratedly casual expression you’ve ever seen.

"Another Mojito sounds good, doesn’t it?"

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head.

"Yeah," you murmur. "It really does."

When you turn to order, you miss the way Lando glances back over his shoulder.

But Oscar doesn’t.

...

The first morning of Monaco race week feels different.

The air is crisp, charged with the kind of anticipation that only exists in cities built for spectacle. There’s an undeniable energy, a hum that seems to vibrate through the winding streets, through the terrace cafés and superyachts lining the harbor. It’s a city that’s vibrant even on a normal day, but during Grand Prix week? It practically crackles.

And it’s home.

Which is why, despite the fact that your schedule is packed, your inbox is overflowing, and you technically have a job to do, you’ve spent your morning making pancakes.

Because priorities.

Balancing two containers stacked with still-warm pancakes, you navigate through the paddock with ease, stopping first at Charles’s motorhome.

You barely get a chance to knock before Charles pulls open his door, eyebrows lifting when he sees what you’re holding.

"T’es un ange, vraiment," (You’re an angel, truly) he says, grinning as he takes the container from your hands without hesitation.

"C’est juste des pancakes, Charles," (It’s just pancakes, Charles) you reply, amused.

"Non, non, c’est un acte d’amour," (No, no, this is an act of love) he insists, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest before lifting the lid.

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. This is exactly why you like Charles—because every interaction is either chaotic or slightly ridiculous. Usually both.

" T’as décidé de lancer une boulangerie ambulante ou quoi?" (Did you decide to start a traveling bakery or what?) he asks, already picking up a pancake with his bare hands like a menace.

"Pas pour tout le monde," (Not for everyone) you smirk.

"Ah, je suis privilégié, alors." (Ah, so I’m privileged, then)

"T’as toujours aimé être traité comme un prince, non?" (You’ve always liked being treated like a prince, haven’t you?)

"Exactement," he says, nodding solemnly. "Tu me comprends trop bien." (You understand me too well)

Before you can fire back, a new voice enters the conversation.

"What’s all this?"

You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Carlos Sainz strolling past, still in a Williams hoodie, his hair an absolute glorious mess.

"Morning, Carlitos," you greet, smiling as you pull him into a hug.

"Morning," he replies, hugging you back before spotting the pancakes. His expression immediately shifts to pure interest. "And what exactly do we have here?"

"Homemade, fresh, and delivered with love," you say, handing him a plate.

"I’m so glad I walked by at the right time," Carlos grins, already taking a bite.

Charles shakes his head. "I knew you’d steal my breakfast."

"I didn’t steal anything," Carlos says, pointing at you. "She offered. Huge difference."

"She only offers because she’s too nice," Charles retorts.

"Yeah, that’s definitely the reason," you deadpan.

Carlos gives a thumbs-up, still chewing. "Ten out of ten. Would accept again."

You laugh, stepping back. "Well, I have another stop to make before you two start fighting over the last one."

"Tell Oscar he’s not worthy," Charles calls after you.

"Noted."

…

The McLaren garage is already buzzing by the time you step inside, a steady hum of engineers, team personnel, and the occasional blur of papaya moving past. You barely take it in, though—your focus is on one person.

You find Oscar exactly where you expect him—perched on the edge of a counter, legs swinging idly, his attention completely fixed on the screen of his iPad.

You step closer, peering over his shoulder.

"Are you—wait, are you watching The Office?"

Oscar pauses mid-chew, glances at you, then tilts the screen just enough for you to see.

Season 2, Episode 4.

You stare.

"Oscar."

"What?" he says, around another bite of pancake.

"You’re watching it at a glacial pace," you accuse, setting the pancake container beside him. "For someone so fast on track, you’re painfully slow with TV shows."

Oscar smirks, finally glancing up.

"I told you, I don’t binge-watch things in one sitting like you do."

"That’s not a flex, Osc. That’s just a character flaw."

"I like to savor things," he argues, grabbing another pancake like it’s part of his defense.

"No, you like to take six months to finish a single season," you counter, crossing your arms.

"Tell that to my racecraft."

"Oh, I will," you say, grinning. "Right after I tell everyone you still haven’t finished White Lotus."

Oscar lets out a long, genuinely pained groan, dropping his head back against the cabinet.

"You’re the worst."

"I’m just speaking facts."

"You’re speaking like someone who finished all of Breaking Bad in four days."

"Five, actually," you correct.

"See? That’s unhinged behavior."

"It’s called commitment," you say, shrugging.

Oscar shakes his head, taking another bite, clearly accepting his fate. The conversation flows easily, like all your conversations do—comfortable, familiar, like second nature.

Which is probably why you don’t notice Lando walking in until the energy shifts.

It’s subtle—not a full stop, not an obvious shift in tone, but a flicker of something tense in the air.

Lando walks in like he always does—quick, purposeful, in the middle of something. But as soon as his gaze lands on you sitting beside Oscar, there’s a beat of hesitation.

It’s a fraction of a second—barely long enough to register—but you catch it anyway. The way his shoulders go rigid for half a breath, the way his gaze flickers over you before smoothing into something unreadable.

Then, just as quickly, he masks it.

"Oscar," Lando says, tone clipped, neutral. He doesn’t acknowledge you. Not even a glance.

The sting of it is instantaneous, even though you pretend not to care.

Oscar, still chewing, looks up. "Yeah?"

"The whole team’s been looking for you," Lando says, gesturing vaguely toward the engineers. "We need to go over a new strategy."

"Right," Oscar nods, setting his plate down and dusting his hands off. "I’ll be there in a sec."

Lando doesn’t leave immediately.

Instead, he lingers—half-turned away, but still close enough that you can see the tension in his posture.

Then, with an exhale just sharp enough to sound frustrated, he turns and walks off.

Oscar watches him go.

Then he slowly turns back to you, chewing with far too much thought behind his expression.

And then he gives you the look.

One that very clearly says: What the fuck was that?

You lift an eyebrow, also a bit confused by what just happened.

"Don’t look at me like that," you mutter.

Oscar snorts. "Right. Because I’m the weird one here."

"Glad we agree," you deadpan.

But as Oscar grabs his plate and follows after Lando, you can’t shake the feeling that this weekend just got a lot more complicated.

…

Singapore is breathtaking at night.

The humid air clings to your skin, thick and warm, but the city more than makes up for it. The skyline is a glowing masterpiece, skyscrapers illuminated against the inky sky, the Marina Bay waters reflecting every vibrant light.There’s something surreal about being here during the race weekend—the most beautiful night race on the calendar, the entire city pulsing with energy, every street feeling like it belongs to Formula 1.

You walk leisurely through Gardens by the Bay, your steps slow against the backdrop of towering Supertrees, their neon lights casting a futuristic glow over the path. The air is still buzzing with life—distant laughter, the hum of nearby conversations, the occasional whoosh of a breeze pushing through the palm leaves.

Beside you, Lily Zneimer, Oscar’s girlfriend, matches your pace effortlessly, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her lightweight sweater.

You met her earlier in the evening, introduced through Oscar with the casual ease of someone who genuinely thought you’d get along. And, to be fair—he was right.

Lily is incredibly easy to talk to—soft-spoken but sharp, with a warmth that makes conversation flow naturally. You clicked instantly, which is why, when she asked if you wanted to step out for a walk, you didn’t hesitate.

"I still can’t get over how beautiful it is here at night," Lily muses, tilting her head to admire the towering Supertree structures above.

"It’s insane," you agree, glancing up at the web of glowing branches stretching toward the sky. "It almost doesn’t feel real."

"Right?" she laughs lightly. "It looks like something out of a sci-fi movie. Oscar loves this place."

You hum, smiling. "You’ve been to Singapore before?"

"Just once," Lily nods, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I came last season, but it was a short trip. It’s nice actually having time to enjoy it this year."

"Yeah, the races kind of turn everything into a blur," you admit.

"Exactly," she agrees, before pausing just long enough for you to notice the slight shift in her tone. "Speaking of racing…"

You glance over.

She’s smiling, but there’s something pointed behind it.

"I heard you’ve been having some… trouble with his teammate."

Your steps falter slightly.

"Trouble?" you repeat.

"Maybe that’s the wrong word," Lily says, tilting her head in thought. "Let’s say… tension."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I wouldn’t call it trouble, but… yeah. It’s a bit weird."

Lily nods knowingly.

Then, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, she drops: "Oscar said Lando was annoyed with him after the whole pancake thing in Monaco."

Your stomach pulls tight.

"Wait—annoyed?" you blink. "Why?"

Lily raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "He never mentioned it?"

"Not even once," you say slowly, trying to piece together what you’re hearing.

"They usually get on well," Lily continues, studying your reaction carefully. "But after that, apparently, he barely spoke to him. It was noticeable enough for Oscar to bring it up, which says a lot."

You had assumed that whatever had happened in Monaco—whatever weird, quiet grudge Lando had been holding—had been aimed solely at you. That he had ignored you and moved on.

But now…

Now you’re hearing that he had barely spoken to Oscar that whole weekend?

You stare ahead, processing.

"I thought it was just me," you admit, mostly to yourself.

Lily watches you for a moment before giving you a gentle nudge. "Maybe you should talk to him. Just clear the air."

You open your mouth, hesitate, then exhale through your nose.

"I don’t know if that would help," you say honestly.

Lily hums, thoughtful. "Maybe. But ignoring it doesn’t seem to be working either."

You don’t have a counter for that.

…

Mexico city is loud and bright, and the warmth in the air feels almost celebratory. Alexandra had been talking about this dinner she was hosting for weeks, making sure everyone knew it was the event before the race weekend officially kicked off. If the turnout is anything to go by, no one wanted to miss it. The restaurant is stunning—high ceilings, flickering candlelight, the scent of fresh tortillas and smoky mezcal curling through the air. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel like the whole night is stretched out in front of you, waiting to unfold into something memorable.

You arrive in high spirits, weaving through the tables, greeting familiar faces. The atmosphere is relaxed, conversations overlapping in different languages, the soft clink of glasses mingling with bursts of laughter. It doesn’t take long before you find yourself sliding into a seat beside Oscar, who acknowledges your presence with an easy grin.

“Ah, look who finally decided to show up,” he teases, nudging your arm as you set your bag down.

“Had to mentally prepare for whatever nonsense was waiting for me at this table,” you reply, scanning the group.

Carlos, sitting across from you, lets out a dramatic sigh. “I’d say welcome, but I think you already know you’ve walked into enemy territory.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “That bad already?”

“Carlos is just upset that I’m his biggest threat now,” Oscar chimes in, reaching for a glass of water. “He’s still not over the last race.”

Carlos scoffs. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“You should be honored,” Oscar counters smoothly. “Most people would love to be my rival.”

“Por Dios,” Carlos mutters under his breath, laughingly shaking his head.

Max, who had been swirling his gin and tonic lazily, finally looks up, unimpressed. “You two are still on this?”

Carlos points at him accusingly. “You’re just saying that because you don’t care.”

Max shrugs. “I care about my cats.”

Charles smirks. “And somehow, you still win races.”

Max lifts his glass as if to toast himself. “It’s all about balance.”

Oscar turns to you, shaking his head. “This is what I deal with on a daily basis.”

“Sounds tough,” you say, completely unsympathetic.

Max leans back, eyeing you playfully. “So, what do you think? Who wins if they go head-to-head next race?”

You hum, pretending to give it serious thought. “I think I’ll stay neutral and just enjoy the show.”

Carlos nods approvingly. “Smart answer.”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “Coward.”

The night moves on, drinks are refilled, plates are passed around, and the warmth of the evening settles into your bones. The food is incredible, Alexandra beaming every time someone compliments her choice of venue. The conversation is easy, filled with teasing and inside jokes, but even through the laughter, you can feel a certain presence in the room. A presence that, despite your best efforts, you’re hyper-aware of.

Lando arrives late, but when he does, it’s impossible to miss him.

His voice carries across the restaurant before you even see him, his laughter breaking through the steady hum of conversation. When he finally makes his way over, he’s in full form—grinning, animated, throwing an arm around Max like they’ve just won something. He slides into a seat between Carlos and Max, immediately falling into conversation, his energy big enough to pull focus. But every time you’re around?

He says nothing.

You don’t think anyone else notices at first. He’s still himself, still cracking jokes, still pulling people into conversations, still loud and impossible to ignore. But whenever you’re in the same circle, whenever your paths inevitably cross, he keeps his focus carefully elsewhere. You catch him sneaking glances when he thinks you’re not paying attention, his gaze flickering your way for barely a second before shifting back. And when he joins a conversation you’re already in, he acts as if you don’t exist at all.

You think you might be imagining it, but then you catch Oscar watching. Charles, too. And when the opportunity presents itself, when the moment naturally shifts and they see their chance, they both take it.

Charles stretches with an exaggerated sigh. “I think I need another drink.”

Oscar pushes his chair back immediately. “Yeah, same.”

You narrow your eyes at them. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Oscar nods, already standing.

“Absolutely,” Charles adds, following suit.

They’re gone before you can argue.

And just like that, it’s just you and Lando.

The air changes immediately.

Lando drums his fingers against the table, gaze flicking briefly toward the bar, then back to the space in front of him. He doesn’t look at you, but it still feels like he’s aware of you, like the silence between you is taking up more space than it should.

You let the quiet stretch for a moment before finally breaking it.

“So,” you say casually, leaning back. “How are you?”

He glances at you, just for a second, and something shifts in his expression. Like he wasn’t expecting the question. Like he was caught off guard. You think, for a moment, that he might actually answer, that he might let whatever this is crack just a little.

But then, just as fast, his face smooths over.

“Could be better,” he says simply.

And then, without another word, he stands and walks off to talk to Carlos, leaving you there.

…

The paddock is still buzzing as the sun starts to set over Abu Dhabi, casting long shadows against the garages. It’s the usual pre-race chaos—engineers moving in and out, last-minute interviews happening outside team motorhomes—but your world has narrowed down to a single conversation.

You lean against the doorframe of Oscar’s driver room, arms crossed, watching as he sips from a water bottle like he hasn’t just blindsided you with his latest observation.

“You know he’s jealous, right?”

You blink. “I’m sorry, what?”

Oscar sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “Lando. He’s jealous. And you, my friend, are being absolutely insufferable about it.”

You scoff. “I’m insufferable?”

“Yes.” He nods, completely serious. “The ignoring-you thing? The weird, brooding glances? The fact that he’s acting like a Victorian husband who just found out his wife is writing letters to another man?”

Your lips part in disbelief. “That is a ridiculous comparison.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Is it? Because if he had a top hat, I’m pretty sure he’d be angrily adjusting it every time you walked past.”

Despite yourself, you let out a short laugh. “That is not what’s happening.”

“It is what’s happening.” Oscar tilts his head, unimpressed. “And you’ve just been letting it happen all season.”

Your arms tighten over your chest. “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

Oscar shrugs. “It’s not a problem, it’s just… a situation you could easily resolve if you both stopped being so painfully repressed.”

You glare. “We are not repressed.”

Oscar snorts. “Oh, right. My mistake. Just two people who definitely don’t have unresolved tension standing in opposite corners of the paddock, staring dramatically across the room like they’re in a period drama.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “I hate that you’ve started narrating my life.”

“Then fix your storyline.”

There’s something about the way he says it—calm, like he already knows he’s right, like he’s just waiting for you to figure it out yourself—that makes your stomach turn. You hate that there’s truth in his words, that deep down, you already know what’s happening here. You hate that ignoring it has been easier.

And you really hate that Oscar sees through you so easily.

“Just talk to him already,” he says, exasperated.

You huff, pretending to check your nonexistent watch. “Wow, would you look at the time? That’s enough of Oscar’s therapy hour.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

You push off the doorframe. “I have very important things to do.”

Oscar smirks. “Like knocking on Lando’s door?”

“Like avoiding you,” you correct, already walking away.

He grins, but doesn’t push it further. “Let me know how it goes.”

…

Your heart is pounding by the time you knock.

It’s stupid. You’ve seen him a thousand times before. You’ve spent years around him. But something about this—about actively choosing to be here, about acknowledging something unspoken after months of pretending—makes your nerves coil tight in your stomach.

There’s a brief pause, the muffled sound of movement inside, and then the door swings open.

Lando stands before you, still in his race suit, half unzipped, sleeves tied loosely around his waist, the fabric clinging to the remaining sweat on his skin. His hair is a mess, damp, sticking up in different directions. Hot.

He looks at you, and for the first time, he doesn’t try to mask it.

There’s no indifference. No forced distance.

Just recognition.

“Hey,” he says, voice lower than usual, rough around the edges.

You swallow, suddenly very aware of how close he is, of the heat radiating off his skin, of the way his fingers twitch slightly against the doorframe.

“I just…” You hesitate, feeling a little stupid, a little out of place. “I wanted to say good luck. And that I’m happy to see you doing so well.”

Lando��s expression flickers. Not surprise, not exactly, but something close.

You don’t give yourself time to overthink it.

Before you can stop yourself, you step forward and wrap your arms around him.

He freezes.

It’s a split second—his whole body tensing like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. His arms remain stiff at his sides, and for a moment, you think this was a mistake.

Then, slowly, he exhales.

His fingers brush against your back, hesitant at first—then firmer, pressing lightly against your spine. He doesn’t hold you tightly, but he holds you.

Your face is against his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you move.

Then, just as quickly as you stepped into him, you pull away.

You meet his eyes for a brief second, your pulse a little uneven, and then, just to break the tension, you flash a small grin.

"Right. So. Uh… don’t crash, I guess?"

Lando lets out a short, breathy laugh—like he wasn’t expecting that.

And then you turn on your heel and walk off, leaving him standing in the doorway, watching you go, hands still hovering slightly at his sides like he’s not sure what just happened.

…

The paddock is quiet now, the chaos of the race replaced by a slow, methodical dismantling of the weekend. Mechanics move with practiced ease, packing up equipment, coiling cables, loading crates. The bright lights above cast long shadows across the pit lane, stretching out into the empty grandstands.

You lean against the railing of the paddock terrace, high above it all, watching the world wind down. There’s something almost peaceful about it—the way everything slows after the high-energy storm of the season’s final race.

Oscar was supposed to meet you here, but you don’t mind the solitude. After months of back-to-back weekends, the rare quiet feels like a luxury.

Then, you sense someone stepping beside you.

You don’t even have to turn. You already know it’s him.

Still, when you do, Lando is watching you.

His race suit is still tied around his waist, curls damp from the post-race exhaustion. His face is unreadable, but his presence is steady, intentional.

“Hey, you,” he murmurs.

You smile softly. “Hey.”

For the first time in months, standing next to him doesn’t feel like balancing on a tightrope. There’s no hesitation in the silence, no unsaid words pressing against the edges. Just a quiet that feels comfortable. Familiar.

Lando exhales, staring down at the pit lane below. His fingers tap lightly against the railing, like he’s debating something.

Then—he sighs.

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, caught off guard. “For what?”

A small, self-deprecating laugh escapes him. “For how I’ve been acting all season. For ignoring you. For being… whatever the hell that was.”

You nod, gaze flickering back to the track. “Yeah. You were kind of a dick.”

He chuckles under his breath. “I know.”

There’s a weight in the air, but it isn’t suffocating. Just something that has been waiting too long to be acknowledged.

Lando shifts closer, resting his elbows on the railing. His hands grip the metal a little tighter than usual.

“I didn’t handle things well,” he admits.

You glance at him. “What things?”

His jaw tightens. He hesitates. Then—

“Seeing you every weekend. Looking all happy with Oscar. It was—” He stops himself, inhaling deeply. “It was fucking unbearable.”

You cut him off before he can spiral. “Oscar was just being nice. Made me feel welcome.”

It’s a subtle dig. You know it. He knows it.

Lando scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I hated it.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “Lando… do you know what was actually nice about spending time with Oscar?”

His lips press together, shoulders tense. “Enlighten me.”

You keep your voice casual, but there’s an edge to your words.

“Being treated like I exist.”

His jaw flexes. He hears the meaning beneath it.

Lando shifts, his weight rocking slightly onto his heels. He stares down at the pit lane for a long moment, then exhales slowly.

“It’s hard, you know?” His voice is quieter now, rougher. “Trying to move on from something when it still feels unfinished.”

He swallows, glancing at you, then, carefully—

“I didn’t think I moved on.”

Your breath catches.

“What?”

He looks at you then—really looks at you. There’s something raw in his expression, something vulnerable.

“I thought ignoring you would make it easier. That if I acted like you weren’t there, maybe I could get over it.” He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “It didn’t fucking work.”

You exhale, finally understanding.

“Truthfully?” You pause, then admit, “I never moved on either.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable. Relief. Frustration. Longing. Maybe all of it at once.

“Then why did we do this to ourselves?” he mutters.

You shake your head. “Because we’re idiots.”

He laughs, breathless, like he can’t believe it. “Yeah.”

The weight of the moment settles between you both. It stretches, thickens, morphs into something tangible. Something inevitable.

Then, suddenly, the air shifts.

Lando’s gaze drops—to your lips.

It lingers.

Your heart pounds, but you don’t move away this time.

Hesitantly—like he’s giving you the chance to stop this, to pull back—he leans in.

And you meet him halfway.

The kiss is soft at first. Tentative, hesitant, like he’s testing the waters, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll pull away. His lips brush against yours, light as air, but the way his fingers graze your jaw, the way his breath catches, gives him away.

Then, slowly, something shifts.

His hands slip to your waist, fingers pressing against the fabric of your shirt, tentative at first, then firmer. He pulls you flush against him, your bodies aligning in a way that feels too natural, too easy, like you were always meant to be here.

And then he deepens it.

Not rushed, not desperate but slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring it, like he’s trying to make up for every wasted second. Like he knows this moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to risk breaking it.

Your fingers slide into his curls, damp from the night, messy from the hours he’s spent in his helmet, but softer than you imagined. The second you do, he exhales—a sound somewhere between a sigh and relief, like this is what he’s been waiting for, like something inside him is finally settling into place.

The world shrinks.

The paddock is forgotten.

It’s just him.

Just you.

Just this.

And when you finally pull away, your breath is uneven, your hands still tangled in his hair.

Neither of you speak. You don’t need to.

Your forehead rests against his, both of you lingering in the space between, breath mingling, hearts still racing—like neither of you are quite ready to let go just yet

Lando grins—dazed, breathless, like he’s still processing it.

“So… does this mean you’ll bring me pancakes in Monaco next year?”

You groan, shoving his chest.

“You just kissed me, and that’s the first thing you say?”

“It’s an important question.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll consider it.”

Lando raises an eyebrow. “Consider it?”

“Yes. If you keep this up.”

He grins. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

…

bonus scene

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. About time.”

You both jolt apart, startled, turning to see Oscar standing there, arms crossed, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.

Lando lets out an actual whimper before burying his face in your shoulder. “No. Nope. This is a dream. This isn’t real.”

Oscar tilts his head. “Nah, it’s real. And I wish it wasn’t.”

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. “How long have you been standing there?”

Oscar throws his hands up. “Long enough to regret every decision that’s brought me to this moment.”

Lando, still hiding his face, mumbles into your shoulder. “If I don’t move, maybe he’ll go away.”

“Yeah, that’s what you tried with her all season, and look how that turned out,” Oscar deadpans.

Lando groans loudly before finally lifting his head to glare at him. “You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.”

Oscar nods, completely serious. “I was genuinely starting to think I’d have to suffer through another season of whatever that was.”

Lando throws his hands up. “I did not—”

Oscar holds up a finger. “Oh, you did. And I had to watch. Every week.”

Lando groans. “I hate everything about this.”

Oscar nods solemnly. “Yeah, well, so did I. I’d estimate I’ve aged about six years in the span of this season.”

You raise an eyebrow. “It was that bad?”

Oscar gestures vaguely. “I mean… watching you two pretend you didn’t carewas exhausting. Do you know how hard it is to be the only sane person in this situation?”

Lando chuckles under his breath. “Fair.”

Oscar narrows his eyes at him. “Oh, now you admit it?”

Lando shrugs. “Had to keep things interesting.”

Oscar scoffs. “For who? Your personal character development?”

You laugh, shaking your head as Lando sighs beside you.

Oscar, still looking far too pleased with himself, claps Lando on the back. “Alright, lovebirds. Carry on. Don’t let me stop you.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he simply turns and walks off, whistling like he’s just closed a major business deal.

Lando watches him disappear, blinking in mild disbelief. “We’re never hearing the end of this, are we?”

You grin, looping your arms around his neck.

“Nope.”

#f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x you #lando norris #lando norris one shot #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norizz

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scudevils · 18 days ago

Text

land down under — OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x irwin!reader

warnings: swearing, possibly the most fluff i’ve ever wrote, oscar and lando trying not to embarrass themselves in front of the irwins, i tried to make it as accurate to australia zoo as possible (even watched a walkthrough 😭😭, but alas i’ve never been so nothing is 100%), mutual pining altho no too much because i can’t do that to myself, not proofread!!

synopsis: during a mclaren media appearance, oscar can’t help but find himself interested in the youngest of australia’s royal family [6.4k]

a/n: this came to me after seeing the robert irwin bonds ad, i’m also rusty af i haven’t written since december so bare with me pls. although fun fact i have actually had a corn snake around my neck before so i’m twinning with oscar and lando!

MASTERLIST

an irwin.

that's what you were, the name that you carried, the real australian royal family some would call you, the lasting impact of your dad's legacy was something you took pride in, how he and your mom raised you, robert, and bindi to continue his work after he had passed, the importance of protecting the natural world and the role that we all had to play in the conservation of wildlife.

it was ingrained in you since you were a child, continuing what your grandparents had started with the australia zoo, ensuring the effort to raise awareness and preserve wildlife and their habitat, would not end with them. it would endure generations, their work would be worth it.

whilst robert followed in your father's footsteps, crocs and snakes being his speciality, you preferred the calmer residents at the zoo. since it's opening on your 8th birthday, the african safari exhibit was where you spent most of your time, the unofficial name in honour of you, if you had to choose it was easily your favourite place in the zoo, something so enchanting about it that had you spellbound.

it had been built to recreate the serengeti ecosystem, exhibiting how these species lived in harmony with each other, giraffes, one of your favourites since you were young, zebras and white rhinos, existing how they would in the wild together. further up the exhibit were the cheetahs and across from them the tigers, your favourite of the big cats.

the elephants were your favourite to sit with, captivating to watch, their intelligence that only few were blessed to see up close with their own eyes, how they played with the zookeepers, truly gentle giants.

it was your idea of wonderland.

which was why when you were informed the zoo would be hosting the mclaren f1 team as a media appearance before the upcoming race weekend, there was no doubt in anyone's mind you'd give that portion of the tour, including the koala's and kangaroos experience as those were your areas of expertise.

bindi and robert were more into the sport than yourself, both of them occasionally staying up for races that weren't as unreasonably late, and of course, thrived when it came to the races in your own timezone, but you'd have to have been loving under a rock to not know that the team had an australian driver, it was impossible to escape him during a race week, his face plastered across adverts, despite the race not even taking part in the city.

you hadn't expected how many would show up, obviously you knew it was going to be busy, social media a buzz at the fact two formula 1 drivers were going to be visiting, although the number was easily in the thousands, only to be cordoned off from them anyway by the mclaren crew. that was slightly annoying to you, even if they all weren't there to see the zoo, at least they were buying tickets and would hopefully give them a chance to take a look at the work you were doing.

the camera's were on before you realised, filming the two mclaren drivers walking through the zoo entrance as if they were anybody else, your eyes first spotting the one on the right, whose face you'd seen all over the country the past week, and you couldn't help but think 'cuter in person', his calm demeanour making him appear more approachable than his teammate. they introduced themselves to your mother, bindi and robert, finally landing on you, oscar gave you a warm smile and lando, you'd learned his name was, sporting what you could already tell was going to be his signature cheeky grin.

"okay guys," robert spoke a mix to the two drivers and the camera, "we're so glad to have you here, any place you'd like to go first?" he asked them, a part of him having a feeling he already knew what they were going to say.

whilst the attention wasn't on you, you tried not to stare, really, but you kept catching oscar in your peripheral that it was hard not to, the papaya-coloured top was just so eye-catching, was what you told bindi when she caught you.

"don't know about you osc, but i'm just here for the crocs" lando answered with a short laugh and a smile, not that you were staring (you were totally staring), but you'd caught his teammate rolling his eyes beside him, lando nevertheless looking over roberts shoulder at the map of the zoo, trying to find where the crocodiles were on it.

from the walk to the first exhibit, you quickly learned lando was a people person, and it wasn't just for the cameras, his energy was almost infectious and you were laughing along to his terrible jokes as you walked beside him and oscar, who was definitely more eager to take in what your brother was telling him about the enclosures you were walking past at the moment in time, something about irwin's turtles and the komodo dragons, you'd heard it all before, and really, you should've urged lando to listen.

the sight of the first crocodile seemed to finally be the one thing to shut lando up, as he got out his phone to take pictures, oscar still stood beside you fighting every urge in him to copy his teammate, he had to keep it cool in front of the irwins, nicole had urged him in her text earlier in the morning, sunglasses resting on his head. "he's gorgeous, isn't he."

oscar looked down at you, a look as if you were crazy crossing his features before turning back to the enclosure in front. "you and i have very different definitions of gorgeous."

you smiled at his joke, there was truth to his words, growing up around all the wildlife made you appreciate the beauty they had, even the ones with big sharp teeth. "he jokes! thought your teammate was the only funny one."

he let out an amused scoff, taking a closer look at weipa the crocodile in front of him, tuning back into what your brother was saying to the group about him, how your father had saved him from a croc farm before transporting him here for conservation.

you took the time to appreciate the way the team-coloured shirt complimented his tan, the australian sun can do real damage to some people, but not to him, noticing the moles on his neck and face as he continued listening to robert rambling on. or one of the first times in your life you were glad he could talk for days. his eyes were soft, kind-looking, the type that you could spend hours staring into and never getting bored, the way they crinkle when he laughs was endearing, almost too endearing that you wanted to look away but couldn't. maybe it was creepy how you noticed how his eyebrows knitted together when he focused on what he was being told, occasionally looking back down at weipa to make sure he wasn't going anywhere then back to robert. you were staring. hard.

bindi bumping into your shoulder brought you back to consciousness, finding lando and robert looking back at you for an answer. "sorry what did you say." you could feel the warmth creeping up your neck, your heartbeat thumping in your ear, already thinking how you were going to blame it on the aussie sun when bindi teased you for it later. "right yeah, he's only about 10ft when the males are usually around 13-16ft, a short king." that brought a couple laughs from lando and oscar, and you were thankful to move on to the next enclosure.

the walk was minimal, only a minute or two up the trail and you were already at the next one. "this happy couple is graham and bindi, two more saltwater crocs," robert pointed the two of them out, graham half in the water whilst bindi was up on the banks. "these two were a bit mischievous together, and were brought in as part of management program in the 80s together."

another zookeeper gave you the bucket that you haded to lando, pieces of various bits of meat in it, encouraging him to throw in two bits for them, seeing the way his eyes lit up at the snap of their jaws. "her names' bindi? like your sister?" oscar asked, a light tone to his words, he was so easygoing it made you scared at how someone could be so relaxed in this type of situation unless you'd grown up with it like you all had.

"can't you see the resemblance." that earned a laugh from him, it was so infectious and warm, that you wanted to make him do it more, his eyes crinkling, you couldn't help but join him, not catching the glare bindi was sending you from beside lando, who was too scared to laugh instead it be directed at him.

lando handed the bucket over to oscar who looked back at you, nodding in his direction and he proceeded with caution towards where robert had instructed him, a safe distance away in case anything was to go wrong. "this is the original bindi actually, she's definitely got a personality on her." robert commented as her jaws snapped around the piece that oscar had thrown in. "and this big boy, is the only one who managed to get a piece of one of us, poor wes got bit in the backside."

you couldn't help but wince at his words, the reminder of the danger of your jobs, anything could happen in a split second, no matter how long they were rehabilitated for, they were still wild animals and nothing could break their spirit. "on that happy note, acco?"

robert nodded, taking the bucket from oscar and handing it back over to one of the zookeepers in the back, before leading the way to the last of the crocodiles they were going to see. you felt oscar walking beside you, the warmth radiating off him in the already 25° heat. "do you ever get scared?"

his question caught you off guard, no one had really asked you that before, and if they had it came from the kids during question time than someone like him. "do you?" you redirected the question, and he took a second before answering, before nodding his head, adding a 'sometimes'. "i've been around these animals my entire life, i've been scratched more times than i can count, bitten by a few cubs before, but at the end of the day they're still animals. if i get hurt, it's because i made the mistake, they're just reacting off their instincts." you took a breath, thinking back to the time when you were 11 and you were handling one of the cheetah cubs, young and inexperienced and obviously not reading its body language enough and it took a nip at you, it was sore of course, but it was a learning experience you needed if you wanted to continue working with them. "so yes i get scared, but not of them, of making a mistake that could get myself and them hurt."

"i get that fear too." he admitted, his stride slowing down slightly to match your own when you looked up at him, the brim of your hat obstructing your vision of his face. "i can make the smallest mistake out on track, and it can have severe consequences for not only me, but other drivers."

he wasn't entirely sure the reason he was confiding in you like this, a strange feeling of trust with you despite only meeting, and you felt the same, like you could spill all your secrets and not feel an ounce of regret, but it had to wait as robert interrupted you. "this massive guy is acco, just around 16 and half feet long," looking up at oscar, you were about to say something when you saw how his attention was completely on what your brother was saying, like he was actually trying to learn more about the wildlife and the efforts you were doing there, and that brought a smile to your face.

visiting acco always made you a little emotional, his enclosure being where your father had proposed to your mom, it was always like a little bit of him was there when you went.

"he was a bit of a problem child who had a bad habit of trying to attack people. when my dad tried to catch him actually, he sunk the boat that he was in, but he managed to get him and transport him here where he's been ever since." the two drivers were silent as they watched the crocodile moving around the enclosure, the speed of him despite being such a large animal catching them off guard.

and just as quickly as that part of the tour had started, it was already ending, bindi leading the way towards the reptile house, named after your brother, only a couple minutes away from acco's enclosure. "i hope you're good with snakes." bindi jested, gauging from their reactions that they were most definitely not.

"we're not gonna get anything trying to kill us right?" lando questioned, hoping her response to be the one that he wished for. he wish didn't seem to come true however when bindi just laughed off his question, his eyes wide as he looked back at you and oscar, then to robert behind yous. the camera's picked up on his reaction, and you knew that he knew they did.

"it's australia, everything's trying to kill you."

the lighting inside the reptile house was dark, gloomy, save for the bright blue, sterile lights that lit up each of the vivariums, a placard beneath detailing the species they held inside. "that's a big snake." lando blurted out, his eyes wide as he saw the olive coloured corn snake coiled underneath the heat lamp, the background made out to be the australian outback.

"she's actually one of our shorter snakes," bindi guided them over to the glass, unlocking it with one of the many keys she had attached to her belt, before sliding the glass open. "this is sally, she's super chill, she's even met chris hemsworth."

"she's more famous here than you mate." lando bantered, placing a comforting arm around oscar's shoulders.

"you wanna hold her?" bindi had already started lifting her out before they could reply, careful to support her head body with one hand and her head with the other, a loose grip allowing sally to move around freely in her hands without the chance of falling. "she's very friendly," she commented, admiring the way the snake was coiling around her arm, getting comfortable in its new surroundings.

"promise she won't kill me?"

"she won't kill you, lando," you reassured him, carefully taking sally from your sister's hands and into yours, before you slowly started to drape her around lando's shoulders, telling him not to move so much whilst she got comfortable, you could see the fear in his face disappear as she settled, replaced with a grin as he got oscar to take about 100 pictures of him with her around his shoulders, as if he was in his very own jungle photoshoot.

oscar stayed a couple of feet back, he got out of australia early enough he hadn't developed the nonchalant attitude towards the snakes and spiders that resided in his homeland. "you're insane." he shrugged with a laugh.

you looked back at him, the apprehension clear as day on his face, but behind that you could see he was curious, watching the way his eyes followed the snake as it moved around lando's shoulders. "want to try?" you asked, trying to read him an answer.

for the first time since bindi had brought her out, oscar took his eyes off of the snake, looking at you, an odd feeling of trust in them as he hesitated, finally letting out a breath and nodding his head, taking a step closer to you before stopping. "can you hold her with me? please?"

you remembered the way he'd confessed his fears to you earlier, how vulnerable he'd been with what was a complete stranger before today, and nodded your head, already lifting sally off of lando's shoulder, and carefully settling her across your own and oscar's shoulders, feeling the way his stiffened, as if you could feel his heartbeat racing, you placed a hand on the small off his back, bringing him back to reality as he relaxed, the sensation of the snake around his shoulder being forgotten and replaced by the burn of your hand on his back.

"see, told you it wasn't so bad." you chirped, turning slightly to face him, slow enough you didn't disturb sally, to find oscar looking down at you, breathing steady unlike yours, realising just now how close you were to him, and neither of you were doing anything to change that.

"you're far too persuasive." oscar laughed, shoulders more at ease now, comfortable with the predicament that you were in, even more so when he felt the pressure of sally on his shoulder easing as bindi attentively put her back into her habitat.

"and you're braver than i thought." you teased him, bashfully admiring the way his face lights up when he laughs, the sound captivating, you found yourself absentmindedly smiling at it, both of you falling in the back of the group as bindi took everyone to the next terrarium, the poison dart frogs standing out from the rest of the animals there.

"don't let their good looks fool you, these guys are one of the most poisonous animals around, like most guys." bindi jested, despite being in one of the happiest relationships you'd ever seen, allowing lando and oscar to get a good look at the colourful creatures. "this one is wanda," she pointed out the one closest to the front of the glass, black and red in colour, "and that one is buzz." motioning towards the black and yellow one hiding behind some of the leaves.

they watch the frogs with growing intrigue, "it's crazy how something so small can be so deadly." lando remarks, another frog coming out of hiding, a completely different colour scheme than the other two before it.

"everything plays a part in the ecosystem, that's the beauty of it." you hear robert say, and every day you swear he sounds more and more like your dad.

bindi showed them around a few of the other residents of the reptile house, the different species of lizards and the rest of the snakes weren't ones they could touch, holding too much of a risk, so the tour went rather quickly, oscar and you talking amongst yourselves for the majority of it, a complete 180 as now lando was doing most of the listening. "you're telling me, you had a snake as a pet growing up?" oscar looked at you, raising an eyebrow as if you had any reason to lie to him.

"that is what i'm telling you, my little coco." you reminisced, she was a gift on your 9th birthday, named for her rich chocolate brown colour (you weren't very creative as a child). "she was a little princess."

"a scaly, cold-blooded, princess," he muttered with a laugh, a grin forming on his pink lips. he was enjoying talking to you, getting to know you as well as he could the more as the tour went on.

"she was a cutie."

"freak." he jested, tone light and almost breathless as he shook his head again, you could instantly tell there was no malice intended.

you bumped against his shoulder, a shy smile making its way onto your face, and you almost caught yourself blushing at the proximity, the normality of it all, as if you'd known him longer than a few hours at most.

finally, bindi was finished showing around the reptile house, passing the baton on to you to finish the race. "are you guys ready to see the best part of the zoo?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as lando eagerly answered 'yes', like he was on a school field trip, and your eyes drifted to oscar, rolling his eyes as he nodded with an amused smile.

you were immediately hit by a wall of heat as you left the air-conditioned building, taking a couple of seconds to adjust back to daylight from the dark, mood lighting inside, the air had a faint scent of eucalyptus from how close you were to the koala enclosures, a short walk through the birdhouse and you were there.

the first enclosure you came across was the kangaroo walkthroughs, pointing out the animals lazing under the sun. "he looks like he could knock me out." lando eyed up a particularly buff-looking grey kangaroo who was hanging out in the back of the pack.

"he definitely could." you retorted, grinning at the brits insulted expression as you handed him and oscar the cone full of 'roo feed, stifling a laugh at the way they were instantly flocked around as they stepped inside the pen.

following in after them, you bent down to feed one of the kangaroos that had come over to you, recognising her from her distinct markings. "this little girl is teal, she's a sweetheart who loves her cuddles." as if she was listening to you, she nuzzled against your hand, scratching between her ears as he nibbled at the pellets in your hand.

oscar smiled, crouching down to your level as another kangaroo came hopping over to you, this time it was melman, and you knew he wouldn't be leaving without oscar giving him some scratches. he was apprehensive at first, letting the animal sniff at his open palm before gathering some pellets for him to eat, following your instructions as you told him to scratch behind his ears. "i understand wanting to do this every day."

"it's definitely a perk." giggling, you looked up to find lando having what was practically a stand-off with one of the joey's from across the enclosure. "he's not going to punch you," lando nodded at your words, although still, he kept his distance, listening to you as you told him to kneel down slowly, holding out his hands to the little joey before taking a handful of the food.

"this might be the best thing ever." lando's exterior damn near melted as the joey grabbed a couple of pellets with his paws, looking back at you with a grin.

"better than winning a race?"

"it's up there." he laughed, reaching out experimentally to give it a scratch.

the mclaren media team were having a field day with the content you were providing them, of lando and oscar with the snakes around the neck, although the latter looked a lot more uncomfortable, and now lando feeding and cuddling a baby kangaroo, you knew his fans were bound to go crazy over the pictures.

unapologetically, your eyes drifted again, finding yourself subconsciously smiling at the gentle kindness of oscar in front of you, his touch soft against melman, as if he would break if he was any rougher, and when a joey approaches him, he's offering her food with so much patience that it makes a saint jealous, his smile soft and effortless you're not even sure he knows he's doing it. you can't look away, his calm presence, the way he respects the space between them, it's pulling you in more than you'd wish to admit, disarming any type of defence you put up.

you blink, remembering where you are, that you're surrounded by a camera crew, and your brother and sister, and clear your throat like that'll shake it off. "alright, koala time," you say, a little too casually, handing the now empty cone back to one of the zookeepers, motioning ahead as you start walking.

oscar falls in stride beside you, still grinning, and you swear you can feel that glance he throws your way like a spark against your ribs, he's joking with lando about something, and when you look up you see how the light catches his eyes, as if he was carrying a little bit of the sun with him.

the closer you get to the koalas, the stronger the smell of the eucalyptus, and you swear you need it to clear your senses. trees branches stretch overhead, looming over and shading the area. as you approach the entrance of the enclosure, you could already see a keeper holding one of the fluffy animals, awaiting the arrival of the two drivers.

"this is tilly, she's our go-to girl for this experience, super chill and great with people," you explain, introducing her to them as they look back at the koala with wonder, lando quick to volunteer to be first to hold her.

carefully, you show lando how to stand to hold a koala; his hands clasped together forming a sort of bowl for her to sit in, telling him to keep as still as possible and to try not to make as much noise as possible.

"if i knew this is what i'd take to keep him quiet i would've brought him ages ago." you stifle a laugh at oscar's words, seeing the glare that lando was sending him, about to say something back before remembering he was to try and stay quiet.

you scoop tilly from her perch in the other keeper's arms, cradling her with practised ease, you'd been around koalas your entire life it was almost second nature at this point, and gently rest her in the bowl that lando had created with his hands. his eyes go wide, looking between you and the animal in front of him and a grin spreads across his, her soft fur warm against his shirt.

"feel how soft she is?" you ask him, taking his hand in yours and guiding it over her back, letting her settle into his arms, and he nods. "she's got super thick fur to keep her warm and dry, even when it's raining!"

tilly cuddles up against lando's chest, allowing him to gently brush one of his hands against her back, smiling from ear to ear as he gets his picture taken, not wanting to let her go. "what's the fine if i steal her?"

"lifetime ban from australia."

"i can still win the championship missing one race."

somehow, after he’d put up quite the fight, you managed to get tilly out of lando's grasp, showing oscar how to hold her, just as you had shown his teammate, and before he knew it she was being placed into his arms, soft against his exposed skin, already making herself comfortable as she moved in his arms, cuddling up against his chest.

oscar was a little unsure at first, hesitating slightly, but once she's settled in his arms, a look of awe washed over his face, glancing down at the animal below. he barely breathes, eyes wide, the corners of his mouth lifting in a slow, amazed smile. "she's... so chill," he whispers, as if afraid to break the moment. his grip is careful, respectful—he can feel the tiny claws and the steady, slow rhythm of her breathing.

"they're super chill animals." you smile, admiring the sight in front of you, he was such a natural even if he didn't know or believe it. "if you were going to be any animal, it'd definitely be a koala."

"a koala?" he echos your words, with a bemused smile glancing down at the one in his arms as if he was comparing.

"yeah, you know." you shrug as if that was enough of an explanation. "you both just have this calmness to you, but can get shit done when you need it."

his laugh reverberates around your head, hearty, warm, and real. "i'll take it, could've been an emu."

"nah, too cute to be an emu." the words are spilling out before you can stop yourself, and when you realise what you've said its too late to take it back, your eyes slowly find his, cheeks feeling hot and you can hear the rush of blood on in your ears. "i didn't just say that."

an expression you haven't seen before crosses his features, he's smug, a type of smile you want to wipe off his face forming on his lips. "yes you did."

"shut up." you quickly suggest moving on to the final part of the tour, carefully taking tilly out of oscar's hands trying to make the least amount of eye contact possible, and when you're successful, you're already leading the way back to the where you were getting the shuttle to the next part of the tour, the mclaren crew letting you know you had to wrap it up soon as they were running out of time.

the wait for the next bus isn't long, although it feels like an eternity, lando happily talking away in your ear and you politely nod, throwing in a couple of basic responses here and there and a laugh when appropriate, but you have other things on your mind. so now. as you board the shuttle bus, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken tension, what makes it worse is it's just you three and the mclaren media crew, robert and bindi resuming their duty at the zoo.

with the cameras and at least eight members of crew, it's slightly crowded, and when it comes to finding a place to stand beggars can't be choosers, you found yourself squeezed up against oscar and one of the mclaren photographers. he's holding onto one of the poles in front of him, arm stiff and silently begging lando to stop making jokes about the driver's questionable driving skills.

you glance up at him, your hand around the pole just beneath his. the shuttle bus hummed as as it wound its way through the lush paths of the zoo, sunlight dappled across the windows, reflecting back on his features, the fresh sunburn across his cheeks highlighted.

it was hard to tune lando out completely, you'd be a liar if you said he didn't have some funny jokes, but you wished he's stay silent for a few seconds, take a lesson from his much quieter teammate, who was either doing a great job of ignoring you, or was deep in existential thought.

the driver called your stop and you all huddled off, the warm air brushing against your face as the distant call of exotic birds echoed through the trees. lando and oscar are close behind, both of them looking around with the kind of wide-eyed curiosity that everyone has on their first visit to the exhibit.

"alright, welcome to the best part of the zoo." you say, grinning. "welcome to our african savanna, we imitated the ecosystem that exists here," you lead the way down the winding path, lined with acacia-like trees and tall grass, oscar finding his way by your side meanwhile lando is taking more pictures than a mom during a graduation.

the large, serengeti-inspired enclosure stretches out before you, a herd of 4 striped bodies grazing lazily under the sun, a duo of giraffes just behind them, eating leaves from a tree. lando leans on the railing, squinting, taking out his phone and getting more pictures. "mate, they look like horses in prison uniforms."

"i'd like to see you try and tame a zebra," you chuckled, lando making a promise you'd see it one day, and that you'd hold him to it. "the one that won't stop playing? that's lucas, he's easily the cheekiest boy we have, bindi says it because he's trying to impress gigi," pointing over to the zebra by the water trout, you couldn't help but giggle at the fact this was essentially just gossip with but animals.

"i hope he gets his girl."

their attention turns to the giraffes towering over the rest of the landscape, how calm they move with a sort of elegant rhythm. one ambles over to the edge of the viewing deck where a zookeeper offers visitors leafy snacks to feed them. "that's how tall lando thinks he is." the laugh fell from your lips before you could help it, feeling lando's glare from one side and oscar smiling at your reaction from the other.

"that's forest." you motion towards the tallest one at the back of the group. "he's actually the tallest in the world, and he's quite the lady's man, but he's such a sweetheart."

a zookeeper from beside hands you a bucket of fresh carrots sticks and leafy branches, hearing the soft clatter of hooves signalling the approach of the giraffes; tall, graceful, and curious. "yous wanna give it a try?" you ask, demonstrating as one of the female giraffe come up to you, zuri, steps forward, her long neck swaying gently as she eyes the food outstretched in your hands, her tongue snakes out, wrapping around the offering, and with a swift tug, it's gone.

lando's jaw drops, a slight look of disgust crossing his features. "did she just lick the branch out of your hands?"

"her tongue's nearly half a meter long," you say, taking a branch out of the bucket and passing it to him, giving oscar a few of the carrot sticks. "totally built for plucking leaves from tall trees."

oscar gives it a go next, reaching out cautiously and zuri leans in, eyes blinking slowly. the carrot sticks are flat against his hands as he holds his palm out straight, her tongue wrapping around the food and its gone. oscar looks back at you, then laughs, wiping his hand on one of the towels given. "alright, that's cool. slimy, but kind of awesome."

lando's practically itching to have a go himself and just as he extends his hand, a second giraffe swoops in from the side, gently bumping him with its head to get to the food first.

"oi! no need to fight about me," he laughs, steadying himself and you hand over another branch. "there's enough of me to go around, ladies."

you chuckle at his oblivion. "except that's zeus."

"oh." the giraffes continue feeding, taking the branches out of each of lando's hands, their calm, unbothered presence setting a peaceful rhythm for the end of the tour.

you can see the mclaren team signalling to each other behind the drivers, already beginning to walk back to where the shuttle had gotten you from, the enclosure fading behind you, sun a little lower in the sky than before casting a warm glow over the zoo, distant sounds of birds singing to each other and excited passersby.

it's only one stop on the shuttle that the fuss of getting everyone on doesn't seem with it, you’re off just as quickly as you were on, dropped off almost exactly at the zoos entrance, and the excitement in lando's jokes almost simmers out as he realises the tour was coming to an end.

the iconic australia zoo sign comes into view, bindi and robert already waiting for you as you get off the shuttle, and are thanking the mclaren crew for coming one by one before reaching the two drivers.

"thank you guys so much for coming, it was amazing to have you both here." roberts tells them with a grateful smile, lando and oscar match his energy as they thank you all for having them, letting them interact with the animals and for all the cool pictures they got, lando adding the last part.

they're coming in for hugs because you realise, feeling lando's around your waist and he's still cracking jokes in your ear, teasing you about oscar and you stiffen, if he'd caught you then most definitely had his teammate.

oscar shifts his weight a little behind him, looking almost bashful, then gives you this soft half-smile and says, "hey, uh... i was wondering—if it's not weird—and you can totally say no, can i get your number?" he glances down for a second, then meets your eyes again. "y'know... in case i've got more animal questions."

you pause, that was the one thing you weren't expecting him to say, anything from how he thought you were weird for staring at him from the very beginning, or nothing at all just a simple diplomatic hug, but not this. he takes your silence as an answer of its own, and is about to walk away when you hold onto his arm. "yeah, of course, in case you get any animal questions." oscar smiled and you blushed, taking your phone out of your back pocket and sliding it over to him, looking around to see if anyone had noticed, when you find lando with a smug smile on his face you can't help but roll your eyes.

"come on romeo!" you hear lando shout from a distance, looking over his shoulder oscar gives him a look, one that seems to keep him quiet for a few more minutes.

as oscar slips his phone back into his pocket, something shifts, a moment of soft, mutual stillness between you., it’s not awkward, it doesn’t feel like anything with him could be, just charged in the quietest, most natural way. the kind that lingers, sticks with people.

you step forward, almost instinctively, and say with a little smile, "guess i'll see you around then?"

his eyes soften the more he looks at you, a blush dusting across his sunburnt cheeks, and he nods, just once. "yeah. i hope so."

and before either of you overthinks it, you lean in, arms gently circling around him, he meets you halfway, pulling you in with that calm steadiness he carries on track, nothing rushed or overdone, just warm and sure. he smells like sunscreen and eucalyptus, maybe a hint of whatever cologne he didn't expect anyone to notice, but you noticed, the way it complimented his natural smell.

he lingers a second longer than he needs to, and when he pulls back, there's a quiet smile playing on his lips.

"for the record, i think you’re cute too,"

2K notes · View notes

5sospenguinqueen · 5 months ago

Text

Espresso | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary: Despite going back to his relationship with Kelly, Max can’t stop thinking about you. Every night. It certainly doesn’t help that you keep cropping up in the McLaren garage.

Warnings: softcore angst? Swearing. A pining man

Requested: yes by many of you on the previous part

Facelaim: Sabrina Carpenter (she was used on the last one and yes, she's used a lot but I stole her song and her job so I'm also stealing her face)

F1 Masterlist

prev. || next.

this will end up having 4 parts total. they're planned but not fully written

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yn_ln just posted

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln what do you do when you get woken up at 2am and can’t get back to sleep? write a song espresso is out now

16,331 comments

user1 is this what the kids call a soft launch? is she seeing someone?

user2 okay but who is the guy reflected in her sunglasses? a new beau perhaps?

alexandrasaintmleux i don’t know what’s hotter. the song or the body

→ francisca.cgomes the men in the video

→ pierregasly i can see this

user3 at least we know this new guy is dicking her down good

user4 why do i feel like this is about max?

→ user5 why tf would it be about max? it’s a fun song about fucking all night

→ user4 because it feels teasing. like, he’s with someone else but can’t stop thinking about yn

→ user6 i’m with user4. maybe she’s trying to throw us off?

landonorris the sun looks bright in that pic

→ user7 uh oh. norizz is alive and well everyone

user8 does this mean max keeps contacting her?

user9 max is 100% messaging her at 1am saying how he misses her

user10 i need a camera in max and kelly’s house when they first heard this

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yn_ln just posted

liked by redbullracing, kellypiquet and others

yn_ln i know i mountain dew it for ya (although, most of these had vodka) tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes

17,094 comments

user11 she looks like a hot librarian

→ user12 i‘d let her help me with my homework

user13 red bull admin is a canon yn stan

francisca.cgomes hot girls do bottomless brunch

→ alexandrasaintmleux maybe they shouldn’t. i still can’t find my left shoe

→ yn_ln i have it

user14 i bet the debrief was piping hot

→ user15 oh to be in a gossip sesh with yn, kika and alex

charles_leclerc stay away from my girlfriend. she came home drunk ranting about how much she loved you and the colour of your hair

→ pierregasly and mine wouldn’t stop talking about how pretty your eyes are and how good you smell

→ yn_ln i have unbelievable rizz

user16 i’d let yn step on me

→ yn_ln and i won’t even charge you

user17 max fumbled so bad

landonorris who’s that cute blonde?

→ yn_ln oscar isn’t in this post??

→ user18 i don’t think he was talking about oscar, hun

→ yn_ln why would he publicly embarrass his boyfriend like this?

→ oscarpiastri i hate you

f1wags just posted

liked by verstappencom, shortnsweet and others

f1wags not even 6 weeks after reconciling, max verstappen and kelly piquet were caught arguing

3,330 comments

user1 can they just stay broken up this time??

→ user2 i love max but i’m fed up now

user3 yet you’ve not got any pics of it? why all the old lovey dovey pics of them

→ user4 the pics are all over twitter. i think f1wags chose not to post them because max looks like he’s trying not to cry in them, and f1wags has always been nice towards the drivers

user5 why is no one talking about the fact that both verstappencom and shortnsweet liked this???

→ user6 the fact that their teams are so desperate for them to be together that they’re publicly rooting for kelly’s demise

user7 i’ve seen the clip on twitter and i wanna know why she’s yelling at him so aggressively

→ user8 i bet it’s cause he’s been all up in yn’s likes

→ user9 yeah but so is she

→ user10 you’d think their relationship would be strengthened by their shared obsession with yn

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mclaren just posted

liked by lilymhe, flavy.barla and others

mclaren papaya party it wouldn’t be a maiden win celebration without some celebs. guess who got to hear espresso live

7,814 comments

yn_ln why is lando’s hand like that? he’s not a ken doll

→ landonorris i’m the barbie. you’re the ken

→ yn_ln you wish you were the barbie. you don’t have barbie energy

→ oscarpiastri i’m confused

→ yn_ln you’re an alan

→ landonorris you take that back!

→ user11 does this mean lando and yn saw barbie together?

→ oscarpiastri yes and they left me back at the mtc

user12 not all the wags liking a mclaren post

→ user13 it’s the power of yn

user14 lando and yn’s interactions give me life

user15 i love how mclaren’s engagement has increased since yn started commenting on everything

→ user16 they’ve become more enjoyable since she became a fan

user17 okay but she looks so good in orange

→ redbullracing except she was meant to be in navy

user18 her and lando make such a cute couple

→ landonorris ew no

→ yn_ln ew no. besides, you guys told me she was with oscar. i can’t break that up

→ oscarpiastri @/mclaren can we ban her from the garage?

→ lilyzneimer no!

→ mclaren no!

→ landonorris @/yn_ln i know i said no but why did you say no?

user19 guys, max liked and unliked this

user20 mv1 fans, i think we’ve lost her

landonorris posted a new story

yn_ln replied still serving cunt though

maxverstappen1 replied is that yn?

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

requests open

coming next; oscar piastri. rivals to teammates to more

tell my why i lowkey feel bad posting this after the pregnancy announcement. i mean, i still don’t like kelly but i wish them every happiness for a safe and healthy delivery.

there will be NO lando x yn in the next two parts

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @omgsuperstarg @seonghwaexile @alejandrablacklupin @nina-or-anna-or-nora @shelbyteller @raynetargaryan2 @astroniii @jxnellat @seasonswinter @casey1-2007 @chemiru @strengthandstay @ivanag1rl @chaoswithus @ivegotparticulartaste @kiyoke3xe @pookynknowntranger

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snoopyracing · 1 year ago

Text

wanna be yours // ln4

pairing: lando norris X american!reader / mclaren photographer!reader

word count: 18k (listen.... i couldn't stop so get a snack bc it's a long one)

warnings: cursing, alcohol use, smut (18+) (oral, p in v, no protection, praise kink, edging, and choking)

includes: heavy mutual pining and jealousy, asshole!lando, clueless lando and reader, a little lando X oscar X reader bff trio, friends to enemies to ???, and time manipulation ( idk wtf to call it i just changed the creation date of lando.jpg lmao)

summary: you're the mclaren f1 team photographer and lando can't help but get jealous at your friendship with logan sargeant.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Not many people in the world get to do what they love as a career. It was something you were grateful for everyday. If you were being honest, you never saw yourself being a sports photographer. After graduating high school you had your eyes set on more editorial work, but it didn't take long for you to figure out that it wasn't for you. Years had passed and then an opportunity arose for a job working with IndyCar. You sent in your portfolio and somehow you got the job. That one on a whim decision changed your life forever.

People were insanely impressed with your skills, considering you had never done sports photography before, let alone motorsports. You had made some connections with people while working the job and somehow got connected with someone on the McLaren Formula One team. McLaren liked what they saw, and after a handful of emails, some serious debating, and support from your family; you had made the leap. Now here you are in your second year as McLaren's F1 team photographer.

Oscar and you joined McLaren the same year and the two of you clicked instantly, bonding over being newcomers to the team. It took about a three months for Lando to warm up to you, but once he did, look out. The three of you were never far from each other during race week. Some of the older drivers liked to call you three 'the triplets' because you were always in tow of one another.

You had made another new friend recently, Logan Sargeant. He joined F1 the same year started with McLaren, but you hadn't really made that many friends outside Oscar and Lando besides a couple other drivers. That changed at the beginning of this season. The two of you had started to be more friendly, and it didn't take long for a connection to form. It was nice to have someone that reminded you of home around, even if you guys were from two completely different states.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Monza

The Italian Grand Prix had just ended and Lando had made podium, placing P2 to be exact. As you stood there waiting for him to get out of the car you snapped a couple pictures making sure your settings were correct. The buzz in the air after Lando or Oscar made podium was something you still hadn't gotten used to. It was electric; from the cheers and chants from the fans, to hollering from the team as he exited the vehicle. You snapped a few photos as he greeted the team, a small bounce in his step proved he was more than ecstatic about his placement. It was a tough race, everyone had brought their A game today, drivers and cars included. So it was fair to say P2 was an excellent spot to be in, even if you would have loved to see him on that top spot.

His helmet and balaclava were off and you knew he was coming your way, so you readied your camera in his direction. Looking through the viewfinder you saw the giant smile that erupted on his face when he saw you and you couldn't help but to reciprocate one as equally as big back to him as you snapped away. One last one was taken of him with two fingers up indicating the second place he had just achieved. As you lowered your camera his arms were already indicating your invitation into them. Your arms wrapped around his torso, something that was just muscle memory to you at this point.

"That was one hell of a race. Congrats Lan." He had you wrapped so tight in his embrace that your words were mumbled against his shoulder, but he understood you just fine.

"Hmm. Thank you love." The term of endearment raised goosebumps on your arms. And as you pulled away from the hug his touch lingered for longer than it should have, something you clocked immediately.

To say you and Lando had a different friendship was an understatement. In fact, you didn't know of any other driver and their team photographer to have a relationship like Lando and you. About six months into your first year with McLaren you had developed a tiny crush on Lando and for the longest time you thought he possibly may have liked you back.

The fact that he was always touching you was one of your first inklings. If it was possible, the Brit was always in close proximity to you. If you were sitting next to each other, your knees were touching or his arm was behind you. Not to mention his lingering touches, hugs lasting longer than they should, his hands lingering on your waist, his fingers grazing you as he passed by. The way he acted with you was far from professional, but you weren't complaining.

Your second inkling was the gift giving. How many people can say their co-worker got them a Cartier bracelet for Christmas? None that you could think of. It wasn't even just expensive things that he would get you. If you guys were at headquarters he would always bring you an iced coffee from the place down the road. You had mentioned once that you preferred their coffee to other places and to your surprise Lando showed up the next day with one in hand for you. Or just even the fact that when you're with Lando, doing anything, he pays. Doesn't matter what it is, he's there with his card in hand, ignoring your pleas to let you pay for once.

The terms of endearment Lando used towards you had also made you wonder if he felt more than friendly feelings. The term 'love' was used quite often, along with 'beautiful'. Both terms surely in violation of HR, but Lando didn't seem to care as he said both freely with no concern of who heard him. And each time he did you tried to hide the blush that would creep onto your cheeks or try not to let him detect how fast your heart was beating when he had you in his arms.

So, to say Lando Norris had you smitten over him was an understatement, but you never acted on that crush for two reasons. One; you didn't want to risk your job, you were sure HR would have a conniption fit if a relationship ever developed between the two of you. You were surprised you hadn't gotten a talking to by PR at least for how you guys acted sometimes during race weeks.

Second; you never truly knew how he felt. Lando Norris liked to mess with your head. In all honesty he probably didn't know that he was, you had never expressed how you felt about him, he had no obligations towards you. But to have him act like he does with you and then that same day see him on Twitter leaving a club with some girl was undoubtedly going to fuck with your head..

After the third or fourth time of waking up to news about who Lando was hooking up with, you knew it was time for your crush to go away. He clearly wasn't interested in you and you were never one to admit your feelings first. So, those feelings got tucked away into a little corner in your brain, locked away, to hopefully never be opened again. Not wanting to lose Lando entirely (and your job), you accepted that you guys were just friends. That he was just one of those people who were naturally flirty, and that maybe you shouldn't take his words and actions to heart. Telling yourself that he wouldn't even be interested in someone like you when he had so many ethereal breathtaking women at his fingertips. And it worked, until he would let his hands lingered after a hug or a term of endearment slipped past his lips. His mindless actions jiggling the door knob to those locked away feelings in your brain.

As he took the podium your cheesy grin had returned as you snapped some more pictures. He really did look amazing up there and no matter what you felt or still feel about him you were always going to be proud of him. He was one of your best friends and as long as you were concerned, nothing was going to change that. The champagne went flying minutes later and more pictures were taken. The celebration continued for a while and as the drivers did their press interviews you made your way back to the hotel to start editing and picking the final pictures to be used on social media.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Lando had made it back to the hotel after finally finishing all his post race duties. He was satisfied with his placing today, sure he would have loved to have won, but everyone was cutthroat today, he just felt lucky enough to have made podium at all. Of course his night was far from over though, the celebrations had just only begun when the champagne was popped at the podium. He planned on having one hell of a night, he deserved it. And it was a no brainer to him that you would be there with him, any chance he got to spend with you, he took. After taking a shower he grabbed his phone to call you, and to no surprise you answered on the second ring.

Your melodic voice filled his ears, a smile tugging at his lips as he heard you speak. "Hello?"

The phone was on speaker as he dug through his suitcase, trying to find a shirt to wear. "We are going out in about an hour. You coming?"

A sigh echoed through the speaker. "I've got a lot of work to still do. You know I don't just take all these pictures for my own person pleasure."

He finally found a shirt and as he buttoned it he couldn't help but laugh at your words. "Oh really? I thought you just took all those pictures because you were obsessed with me.

You scoffed at his cockiness. "You wish Norris. Someone has to fix that face."

"Ouch. Don't talk about Oscar like that." He joked.

He wasn't there but he was sure that you had rolled your eyes at him. "Whatever. I have work to do." You stated. But Lando knew that wasn't true and that you were coming out tonight, you could never tell him no. If Lando was being honest with himself, he couldn't really tell you no either. If anything the two of you just liked to play cat and mouse.

Cologne wafted through his room as the conversation continued. "You're telling me, you would rather sit in your room all night editing pictures than going out with your favorite person and some of your other friends?"

You laughed at his choice of words. "My favorite person? I didn't know Logan was going?"

Logan.

Just hearing his name roll off your tongue put a sour taste in Lando's mouth. The two American's friendship being a sore subject to Lando as of recently.

He ignored you comment, the lightheartedness of the conversation had dissipated at the mention of the other male driver. "Be ready in thirty minutes. I'll come get you." He left no time for you to respond, already hanging up and tossing his phone on the bed.

Thirty minutes later he closed his door behind him and walked down the hall to your room. The both of you were on the same floor, but about ten rooms apart. A gentle knock was placed on the door and seconds later it opened. Lando felt his heartbeat quicken at the sight of you standing in the doorway. The skirt you were wearing was very short and as you turned around to grab your phone, he saw that your top that already had him staring from the front, was completely open in the back. This was not an outfit that he was used to seeing you in. Outside the usual McLaren gear you donned, you had a casual style, and when you had went clubbing or out before you had never worn anything this scandalous. He wasn't hating it though, in fact he was far from hating it.

"Eyes up here Norris." You stated as you joined him in the hallway.

He hadn't even realized he was staring, but when your words broke him out of his trance a blush crept onto his cheeks. Lando linked his arm with yours, leading you both towards the elevator. "Sorry for staring. You look beautiful tonight." Lando stated as he pressed the lobby button on the elevator. As the doors closed the smell of your perfume swarmed around him, it was almost intoxicating, combine that with how you looked tonight and his head was spinning.

You replied with a simple 'thanks' as you leaned against the elevator wall. He realized he may have made things awkward with his ogling, but god he couldn't help himself. The ding indicated their ride was over and as the two of them entered the lobby they were met with some of the other drivers standing in a group, undoubtedly waiting for them.

"Finally!" The Monegasque driver hollered.

You approached the group, a smile tugging at your lips. "Sorry boys. You know how Lando has to make sure he looks perfect."

The laughs that came from the guys was the last thing on Lando's mind, he was more concerned over how some of his competitors were looking at you. It was the same way he was looking at you merely minutes ago. His jaw clenched as he watched Charles hand get dangerously close to your back as he walked beside you. And as you got into one of the taxis with Charles and Carlos, he thought he might break a tooth from how hard he was biting down. As the taxi that was occupied with you and the two Ferrari drivers pulled away, Lando begrudgingly got into the next one with Oscar and George, already feeling like tonight wasn't going to plan out like he had hoped.

The music was deafening as Lando entered the club. You were nowhere in sight when he had arrived, so here he was on the hunt. He stopped by the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila for him and your favorite drink to give you when he found you. When he saw Charles off to the side of the room he figured he'd find you with him, but to his surprise Charles was stood there talking to some random guy, with no you in sight.

"Have you seen Y/N?" Lando felt like he was screaming, clubs were loud, he knew that, but this one just felt like it was on another level.

Charles shook his head. "The American stole her away from me! It was a shame, we were having a good time!"

The American. No guessing as to who that was. He stopped by the bar again, this time it was two tequila shots, the burn felt good as it slid down his throat. His eyes scanned the room, it was hard to see. Between the flashing lights, loud music, and bodies in every direction, he figured he'd never find you. Then just when he was about to give up he spotted you. Your back was to him, but he could see the tall blonde driver that was with you, his hands roaming your body as the two of them danced.

Lando tightened his grip on the glass as he watched the two of them and he couldn't help but think 'who the hell invited Logan?' The same hands that were on your body seconds ago now pointed at him, motioning for you to look back at Lando. A smile spread across your face as you realized who was standing there and as you walked over he felt his demeanor soften.

"I've been looking for-" Logan had now come up behind you, his hand resting on you shoulder, causing you to pause for a moment.

Lando's eyes flickered to Logan's hand on your shoulder, then back to you. Fucking ridiculous. He wanted to take Logan's hand and break it, make him not be able to race ever again and then he wouldn't be an issue again. His softened demeanor now long gone. "Here. Your favorite." He stated as he shoved the now watered down drink toward you.

You accepted the drink, but your smile was now gone as Lando turned on his heel to leave. You weren't sure what his deal was, but he on the other hand knew exactly what he was about ready to do.

He wasn't sure how many shots he had consumed by now, but god dammit he was a multi-million dollar F1 driver, who just got podium at the hardest race of the season so far. He was going to drink however much he wanted and no one, not even you were going to ruin his fun.

Lando made his way out to the dance floor and his eye caught the attention of some random girl. Perfect. The music pounded in his chest as the mystery girl and him were less than cordial in the middle of the swarm of bodies. The alcohol coursing through his veins only added to how he was feeling right now. It didn't take long for the random girl to be in tow behind him as they leave the club, for their lips to be on one anothers in the backseat of the taxi, and for his wandering hands to explore her body in the elevator. But what does take long is for him to get into his damn hotel room. He keeps trying and trying and the keycard will not work. He was getting impatient, the last thing he wanted to do was go back down to the lobby, he wanted to get into his room. Then he heard you voice.

"Lando?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

There was a cool breeze that whipped through the night air as you walked the streets of Monza. The liquor in your veins was the only thing keeping you warm, considering your less than modest outfit choice for the night.

"I'd give you my jacket if I had one." Logan stated as he walked next to you.

You flashed him a smile. "I'm fine really. It's not that bad out."

The two of you had decided to walk back to the hotel, it really wasn't that far of a walk from the club. Plus, you had wanted to soak up as much time in Italy as you could. As you walked you were thankful you didn't go crazy with the drinking tonight, the idea of walking in heels on these streets while plastered sounded horrible. If anything at this point you only had a slight buzz. You couldn't say the same for some of the other drivers who were undoubtedly still living it up at the club.

Light conversation was made between the two of you as you walked.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" You asked.

"I did. I'm glad you decided to come out too." Silence filled the space between the two of you for a moment before the driver spoke again. "Can I ask a question?"

Your heart skipped a beat. You hated when people asked that, just ask the damn question instead of making your mind run worst case scenario, but you simply replied. "Sure."

Logan scratched the back of his neck, like he was unsure if he should even ask the question. But just before you were about the tell him to spit it out, he spoke. "What's up with you and Lando?"

Glancing over at Logan you gave him a confused look. "What do you mean what's up with me and Lando?"

Your question made Logan stop walking. "Oh come on you know what I mean. Are you guys a thing?"

A genuine laugh came barreling out of you. "Me and Lando? Oh yeah and I'm a F1 driver." You had continued to walk, but Logan grabbed your hand pulling you back towards him.

"I'm serious Y/N."

The joking manner of the conversation was now suddenly gone. "Nothing is going on between me and Lando. Believe me." You groaned, Lando was the last thing you wanted to talk about right now, especially after his weird behavior in the club.

Logan's grip on your hand still lingered. "Doesn't seem like it."

You rolled your eyes at him, why did he have a sudden interest in Lando and you? "Logan. There is nothing going on between us. I really like my job and would like to not be fired. You don't think HR has some rules set in place or something? Plus I'm not even his type. I'm not a model or some ethereal woman from some foreign country." His grip on your hand had loosened enough for you to turn and continue walking. He still stood frozen for a moment, processing your words and when he realized how far you had gotten ahead of him he had to jog to catch up to you.

"You like him don't you?" He asked as he finally caught up with you. The little locked door in the back of your brain labeled Lando was bursting at the seams, but you did not want to unlock it tonight, especially to Logan. Thankfully you could see the hotel in the distance and you felt no need to answer Logan's prying question. "I'll get it out of you eventually." Logan stated as the two of you entered the elevator.

You just shook your head at your friend as you leaned your head against the elevator walls. The adrenaline from the eventful day was starting to wear off and the tiredness had set in. As the elevator doors opened you looked back at the tall blonde, holding your hand out to him. "You gonna walk me to my room or did I let you dance with me for no reason earlier?"

Logan's eyes widened as he hurried to your side. "Coming!"

You rested your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked down the hall. "I did really have a good time tonight. Thanks for spending it with me. Even if you did steal me from Charles."

"I think me taking you from Charles was more of a favor or dare I say a good deed." Logan joked.

Rounding the corner to your room you heard giggles and shhs. Logan and you exchanged questioning looks, wondering who was being naughty in the hallway. But as you finally made it into eyeshot of your door you stopped dead in your tracks.

It was Lando and some girl you had never seen before, making out against your door. You felt Logan's grip on you tighten as he forced your feet to move with his towards your room. As you got closer the two of them still had not broken apart, only until you spoke up.

"Lando?"

Lando's eyes turned into saucers when he saw it was you standing there, but as they shifted to the right of you, they narrowed at the sight of Logan with his arm still around your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" It was a rhetorical question, anyone knew what they were doing. As you stood there waiting for a response your eyes glanced over to the girl, she was definitely his type, no doubt about it. The longer you looked the more you had wished you guys would have taken a taxi so maybe you wouldn't have had to witness this.

"Well. I can't seem to get into my room." He fumbled with the key card, still clearly drunk. "Stupid key card won't work."

Your eyes moved back to Lando, a small sigh escaping past your lips as you glanced up at the room number by the door. "That's because you have the wrong room. This is my room, 710. Yours-" you pointed down the hall "is down there, 701."

Lando's mouth formed an O shape after realizing what he had done and the random girl and him erupted into a fit of giggles. You tried to hold back the eye roll that was so badly wanting to let go. "Sorry. Let's go.." Lando paused looking at the girl he had pinned to your door seconds ago.

Jesus christ. He didn't even know her name.

"Bella." The girl answered, not even phased at him not knowing her name.

"Right Bella. Let's go." Lando dragged the girl behind him towards his room. He let the girl go in first and before he passed through the doorway, he gave one last look back at you before slamming the door shut behind him.

A loud sigh escaped past your lips as you stood there, staring at the now empty hallway. You had no reason to be jealous, you knew that. There truly was nothing between Lando and you and tonight was a prime example of him showing you he had no interest in you. But dammit, you couldn't lie and say it didn't sting when you saw him with someone else. Even when you try to push away your feelings, try and bury them so deep that you tell yourself you're fine being friends, being colleagues, but you know deep down that the want for something more will always be there. You dug in your clutch for your key card, finally finding it you scanned it. The little light turned green, but as you placed your hand on the handle you hesitated. Your forehead leaning against the previously occupied door.

"I used to like him."

Logan only gave a slight hum as a reply and when you turned your head to look at him, you knew he knew. He gave you a small smile and quick hug before bidding you goodnight.

"Talk to you tomorrow?" You questioned.

"Of course." He stated as he made his way down the hall.

As you entered your room you flung your heels off and grabbed some pajamas. Your open laptop on the desk caught your attention, you could have swore you saved everything and put it up before leaving earlier. Worst case scenario ran through your head as you turned it on, you prayed all your work wasn't gone. As the screen came to life a picture of Lando popped up. It was one of him you had taken before qualifying the day before. He had a cheesy grin on his face and he held up a number 4 on his fingers, one of his signature poses. You saved the picture and put your laptop up before climbing into bed.

Unfortunately for you, sleep did not come easy that night. You couldn't stop thinking about Lando and that girl. You knew you should just let it go, god knows you've seen him with multiple other women, but tonight was the first time you saw it with your own two eyes, in person. The feeling of seeing it actually happen versus seeing it on Twitter was like night and day. When you saw pictures being spread around, sure it was annoying, but you could just get off your phone and suddenly it was gone. Tonight though, was different, the image forever engraved into your mind. Thinking back to standing in the hallway made your stomach turn, it felt like it had officially confirmed that the idea of the two of you ever being a thing was officially dead.

Yet here you were, tossing and turning in bed. Because tonight you had officially let all those locked away feelings out for the first time in forever. You weren't sure if it was seeing him with that girl that did it or just the hinges finally breaking on that door. You just let yourself fully feel, feel every emotion your brain threw at you. Anger, jealousy, sadness, love? Even though you knew the two of you had no chance, you couldn't help but want. You wanted to be the girl he had pinned against your hotel room door. You wanted to be the girl he kissed before and after his races. Fuck you just wanted to be the girl he loved. More tossing and turning ensued and you just couldn't get your mind to shut off. As you glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand the time read 4:04. A dry laugh echoed through the room. 'Fucking number four' you whispered to yourself.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As Lando awoke the next morning he knew he had made some bad decisions last night. The pounding headache was proof of bad decision number one and the phone number sloppily written on a tissue on his nightstand was proof of number two. He was thankful the girl had left before he woke up, mornings after one night stands were never his strong suit.

His mind wandered to last night as he laid in bed. Perhaps he may have been a little overzealous with his actions. He couldn't help it though, the idea of you not being his drove him crazy. The thought that you was more interested in other guys, especially Logan, always seemed to make him make some not so great decisions. Last night was a great example.

Lando wasn't entirely sure when his feelings for you turned into more than friends. In fact, when he heard they were getting a new photographer he wasn't even that keen on getting to know you. Photographers came and went in this business and a lot of the times he felt like they got in way. Sometimes he just didn't want to have a damn camera in his face, but then he met you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

February 2023

It was a formal setting, a team meeting before the start of the season. Of course the big topic was his new teammate Oscar, who he had met a couple months beforehand, along with the usual beginning of season talks. Towards the end of the meeting he had noticed a girl sitting in the corner of the room, he could tell she felt like she was out of place. He remembers thinking about how beautiful she was, but as he sat there he couldn't remember her from anywhere. Zak had already talked about who was new this season and Lando prided himself on knowing everyone on the team. So who was this mystery girl?

The meeting had finally ended and people were getting up to leave when Zak spoke up. "Oh yes. Sorry I forgot." He pointed towards the mystery girl. "Everyone this is the new team photographer. Y/N. Please make her feel welcome." Lando remembers a blush forming on your cheeks as you gave the room full of people a smile and small wave. As people filed out of the room Lando hung around, wanting to properly introduce himself to you. He noticed you were gathering your things to leave and he knew now was his window of opportunity.

You had bent down to pick up your bag and by the time you stood back up, there Lando stood, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped a little, startled at the closeness of him. His smile finally broke free as he stuck out his hand for you to shake. "Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you. I'm Lando." As their hands touched he could have swore he felt the "sparks" that they talk about in the movies, his heart beat racing a little as he really took in all your beauty. Not to mention your perfume (that you still used today) that was making his head spin. "Welcome to McLaren." He was finally able to spit out.

"Thank you! I'm glad to be here."

Your accent made his ears perk up. "An American huh? What made you come all the way over here?"

The blush from when Zak introduced you had never really faded and when Lando mentioned your accent it just deepend. "Well, long story short. I used to work for IndyCar, made some connections with McLaren and now here I am."

Lando heard Zak calling his name from the hallway, he didn't want to end the conversation, but duty called. "Boss is hollering for me. It was lovely to meet you though. I'll see you around yeah?" He was trying not to sound like a douche while also trying not to seem overly enthusiastic. A simple 'see ya' came from your mouth as Lando walked out the door.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

For a about a month after that Lando played it cool. He watched you from a distance, watched as your friendship with Oscar formed. Watched as you did you work, something that he realized very early on that you were amazing at.

Around the three month mark Lando had decided that playing it cool was not his forte. He somewhat felt jealous as he watched his teammate and you joke around or when they would go get lunch without him when they were back at headquarters. Lando wanted to be the one you went to lunch with and joked with. He remembers a conversation Oscar and him had about you once.

It was an off week for racing and that meant a couple days were spent at Headquarters running the sim and creating content for social media. Oscar and you had came back from grabbing lunch. He watched them part ways and as Oscar came towards him Lando raised his eyebrows at him, giving him a questioning look.

"Oh don't even start. You know you can come with us." Oscar stated as he sat down.

"Well someone has to stay here and hold down the fort."

Oscar shook his head as he rolled his eyes at his older teammate, sometimes Lando's dramatics made him seem like the younger one. "Yeah I'm sure the hundreds of other people who work here can manage if Lando Norris leaves the building for an hour to go get lunch." Lando stayed silent, only crossing his arms over his chest as he stared back at Oscar. "You gonna finally fess up to why you've been acting so pissy lately?"

Lando scoffed at Oscar's question. "I just thought I would have gotten a lunch invitation by now."

"Literally told you, you can come with us. Y/N has even asked why you don't come with us." Oscar didn't let Lando respond to his comment. "Although, it is weird to me how distant you are with her. You like everyone on the team and I know you would like her too if you got to know her."

Lando shrugged, not exactly sure what to say back to his teammate. He didn't want to say, yes he knows he would like you, in fact the giant crush he has on you right now is making his stupid play cool decision eat away at his brain. The fact that even from only talking to you when necessary for work he's become enamored with you and your work. How you have a knack for capturing him in a way that no other photographer has before. How he thinks that if he lets himself become close to you that it may be bad for the both of them, but he wants to so bad. But he doesn't say any of that. All he says is.

"Well then let's all do lunch tomorrow."

The rest was history. After having lunch with you and Oscar the next day it seemed like you and him were inseparable. Looking back now Lando could have punched himself for not getting to know you better sooner.

As time went on his feelings grew stronger, but he was too scared to say anything. Too afraid to ruin the amazing friendship you guys had. Too afraid that if he opened his big mouth that things may be too awkward and you would leave your job and him. He had grown to love having a camera in his face, but only if you were the one taking the picture. And to think he might get that taken away just because of a crush destroyed him, so he kept his mouth shut.

It was fine for awhile, he would distract himself with random girls (who always somewhat resembled you) any chance he got. Something perhaps he shouldn't be proud of, but people already expected it from him. So why not live up to the playboy expectations? But he soon realized maybe his actions were hurting him more than helping him. When you started to become closer with some of the other drivers he thought perhaps he was pushing you away from him.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, so he thought maybe the best way to reel you back in was through your one true love; photography. Thus, lando.jpg was born. He wasn't going to lie, you truly had gotten him more interested in photography, but the instagram was started under false pretenses. The way his heart skipped a beat when he got a text from you about it was a little embarrassing to say the least.

you: do i need to break the news to zak that you are quitting racing to pursue photography or are you?

lando: nope. was just inspired by one of the best photographers i know.

you: oh so you're coming for my job?

lando: might need to post some content first before i go applying for jobs.

you: well i better be apart of your first post. considering i was the inspiration.

lando: wouldn't have it any other way.

And to no surprise there you were front and center on lando.jpg. Lando even made sure to make the caption "coming for her job". His sudden interest in photography had you around him more often, something he was beyond happy about. It had even escalated to the two of you hanging out, outside of work hours. As time passed it seemed like you two were just getting closer, but yet neither of you would admit your feelings for eachother.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

In Lando's mind he was content with how you were in his life at the moment, that was until a certain American driver entered yours. To give himself some credit, Lando had been pretty good with his actions lately, he hadn't been messing around with anyone for a good while now, but last night was the straw that broke the camel's back. He wasn't really sure if it was just Logan's actions last night or the fact that the Ferrari drivers couldn't have been more friendly with you either.

To Lando you were his and he never was good at sharing his toys as a child, so why should he have to share the girl he was obsessed with? His only problem though (that he could never seem to internalize) was that you weren't his. You were only his in his mind. And that's why he's lying here in this hotel room, alone, with just a headache and a phone number that will be thrown in the trash later.

He recalled the scene in the hallway last night. Sure he was drunk, but unfortunately not drunk enough to forget the whole thing. In his drunken defense he really did get the rooms mixed up, and maybe he would have eventually realized it. It was just his shit luck that you showed up, with Logan in tow. He remembered his stomach turning at the sight of Logan's arm around you. And now come morning he'd made himself nearly sick at the idea of Logan and you sharing a bed together last night, he wouldn't be surprised if you did though, he figured his actions probably drove you right into his arms.

Lando hadn't even realized what time it was until texts come rolling in asking where he was and how the car was going to leave without him.

Shit.

He had never packed his stuff up so fast in his life and as he walked out the door he knew he had probably forgot something. Speed walking was putting it politely, he was more like running down the hallway. He looked down for a split second to grab his phone out of his pocket and then suddenly he's barreling into something. That something turned out be someone, you to be exact. He hated to say it, but you were the last person he wanted to face this morning, considering their encounter in the hallway last night. But his fuck ups were casted aside as he crouched down to look at you.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" He looked you over, he knew he was like a brick wall, so it had to have hurt when he ran into you.

You rubbed your arm as you looked up at him, his blue green eyes staring back at you with a worried expression on his face. "Goddamn Lando. Watch where you're going." You huffed.

He extended his hands out to help you up and offer you quickly accepted. "I know I'm sorry." He stated sheepishly.

Instead of helping you pick up you bags, Lando took the time to sneak a peek into your room. He wasn't sure what he thought he was going to find. Maybe a naked Logan still under your sheets from last night? But to his relief your room was empty, but he wasn't as quick with it as he thought.

"What are you doing?" You inquired.

His head snapped back to you, your eyebrows raised in question of his actions, your free hand on your hip.

"Just making sure you didn't forget anything." He mumbled out quickly.

An eye roll was all he got back from you as you turned on your heel. Suitcase and bags wheeling behind you down the hall. Lando quickly followed behind you, resembling a lost puppy. As the pair entered the lobby a handful of the other drivers were down there chatting, surely waiting for their cars to arrive. Lando gave some 'heys' as he walked past, there was no time to stop and chat. There were two cars waiting outside the hotel and Lando could see Oscar in the first one. Of course he was already in the car and waiting thought Lando. It was rare for them to all be leaving together. Most of the time they just went their separate ways after a race weekend, but on the rare chances they do have flights together, you always rode in the same car as him and majority of the time they sat by each other on the plane. So he was confused to see you getting into the second car.

After quickly throwing his bags in the back of the first car he trapsed over to the second car, ignoring the shouts from Oscar about missing their flight. The door was still open and as he peered inside the vehicle he'd wished he hadn't. There sat Logan and you, already chatting away. You were practically on Logan's lap with how close you were to him.

Lando cleared his throat, causing the two Americans to look towards him. "Y/N are you riding with me?"

His grip on the door frame getting tighter as he noticed the quick glance Logan and you shared, silence lulling between the three. Your silence already answering his question.

"Actually I'm gonna ride with Logan. He has the same flight too, so it works out." Her words cutting through the silence in the air and he thought that if he gripped the door frame any tighter he was going to leave dents in it.

Perhaps he was pushing you away from him.

"Alright." Lando stated, before what some would say slamming the car door shut.

The look on Oscar's face was the last thing Lando wanted to see when he entered the car. "Shut up." Lando huffed.

Oscar shrugged in response, a small smirk playing at his lips. "I didn’t even say anything!”

Lando rolled his eyes at his teammate, choosing to look out the window as the car started to move. “You didn’t have to. Your face said it all.”

Oscar had been dealing with Lando's hissy fits about you ever since that day he confronted him about going to lunch together. To say Oscar was ready for Lando to either man up and admit to you how he felt about you or move on was an understatement.

He also knew how you felt about Lando. Oscar had a hunch about it just from the way you would look at Lando sometimes. Or the way you would always glance at him when someone had said something funny, guarenting the two of them to be a giggling mess as soon as they made eye contact. Or the way you captured him in photos. Granted you did an amazing job when it came to taking any photos, but you captured Lando in a different way. In a loving way almost, Oscar remembered his girlfriend saying you captured Lando through the female gaze. Something he didn't really get, but clearly it meant something. So when you drunkenly admitted one race weekend how you liked Lando and how conflicted you felt about it all, he wasn't the least bit surprised.

So needless to say Oscar had gotten the rundown on what had occured in the hotel hallway last night from you this morning, infact very early this morning. He was still in bed when your loud pounding on the door woke him up. When he let you in, you just started in and Oscar didn't even say anything, just climbed back into bed as you paced back and forth in front of him. In the same breath you said that Lando is a douchebag, but that you don't care that he was hooking up with random women. Oscar could only let you ramble as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

What Oscar did to get stuck in the middle of his two friends who both clearly wanted each other, but were too stubborn and backwards to just admit how they felt was beyond him. Not to mention one friends solution was to just act like said feelings don't exist. While the other friend can only seem to make things worse for himself, undoubtedly pushing the other person away.

Oscar knew your version of last night, and he knew Lando probably didn't want to relive it, but sometimes stirring the pot was Oscar's only form of entertainment.

“So I take it you don’t want to talk about the hallway incident last night then?”

Lando’s attention averted from the window back to Oscar. “How did you know about that?”

“You forget Y/N’s my friend too-" he debated whether or not to bring up Logan, but fuck it he thought "and so is Logan."

A forced laugh came from Lando. “Everyone just seems to love him don’t they?”

“Maybe Y/N likes him because he doesn’t turn into an ass when she’s around other guys and he doesn't hook up with random women in front of her hotel room.” Oscar knew he was pushing Lando's buttons, something he knew how to do quite well if he did say so himself.

Lando's jaw tensed, what was Oscar’s deal this morning? “Kindly shut the fuck up Oscar.”

Oscar put his hands up in defense. “Just saying. Your actions have consequences. Even if she doesn’t know you're being an ass because you're jealous. I would think, she thinks, you’re just being a shit friend in general. So maybe get yourself in check. Or admit how you feel. Either way something’s gotta give.”

Silence filled the air between the McLaren drivers. Lando knew deep down that Oscar was right, but he would never admit it. To Lando, his self destructive tendencies sometimes made more sense to him than the logical sane ones that Oscar presented him.

No words were exchanged for the rest of the car ride, the Italian pop song playing softly from the radio was the only thing heard. As they boarded the plane Lando still held out some hope that you would sit next to him, like you always did. But that hope was crushed as soon as you sat in the row behind him, with Logan right next to you. His headphones were immediately over his ears, not wanting to hear the two of them the whole plane ride.

The look his teammate gave him as he sat down beside him was one of pity. Maybe he really had fucked up, he had a feeling that things between you and him these past few weeks had been different. But after last night and this morning, there was no doubt their relationship had shifted.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next two races were in Azerbaijan and Singapore and you were still a little on edge from how Lando acted in Monza. Him slamming the door on Logan and you was beyond ridiculous. His attitude that whole night was also beyond ridiculous, especially considering how well he had performed in the race that day. A far cry from how he performed in the most recent two. Your job had been fairly easy on the Lando content aspect. He hadn't even placed in the top ten in Azerbaijan or Singapore, so that meant no extra pictures of podiums or celebrations for him. Which honestly, was fine with you, considering you didn't know if you were going to get asshole Lando or sweet funny Lando. In Singapore you had gotten asshole Lando, which looking back was ten times worse than his attitude in Monza.

You had some free time before qualifying and so you had inconspicuously made your way over to the William's garage. Mostly everyone there knew you by now as Logan and you had become fairly close. Not to mention the bright papaya uniform didn't allow for any blending in to occur. Logan was talking with some of the mechanics by his car when he spotted you, he quickly excused himself and came over.

"What are you doing in enemy territory?" Logan joked.

"I had some free time, came to see if I could figure out some strategies to relay back."

Logan raised his eyebrows a playful smirk developing on his face. "Oh I see. This friendship has just been a ploy all along!"

You raised your hands in defense, laughs coming from the both of you. "You caught me."

The two of you chatted some more, particularly about how excited you were for the next race, which just so happened to be in Austin. Any chance to be back in the states was one you took full advantage of. It didn't even matter that it wasn't even close to home, it was still home enough to you and you figured Logan thought so too. As the two of you talked about making plans while in Austin you heard a certain British voice holler your name.

"Y/N!"

Both Logan and yours heads turned towards the voice, the voice that sounded more like a mother hollering at her disobedient child than anything.

There Lando stood, his papaya suit making him stick out just like you and by his tone you already knew which Lando you were going to get. He was stood outside the garage, probably not daring to enter. You mouthed a 'what' at him and he motioned for you to come to him. You shook your head at him, deciding to speak up this time.

"I'm talking to Logan. What do you want?"

He rolled his eyes as he begrudgingly made his way towards Logan and you. "Don't you have work to be doing back at our garage?"

What the fuck? What was he trying to be your boss now? You were sure the look on your face was nothing shy of displeasure.

"What are you talking about? I've done more than enough for today and it's still an hour before qualis." You glanced over at Logan and you could tell he was a little taken aback from how Lando had spoken to you.

Lando's eyes lingered on Logan as he spoke. "Well still don't think you should be hanging around in other teams garages while on the clock." His gaze moved over to you. "Don't you think?"

You so badly wanted to smart off to him, make a snide comment about how badly he had done in the last race in Azerbaijan and how maybe he needed to be the one working. But you didn't, you bit your tongue, figuring it would only make things worse. So you only stated the obvious.

"Did Zak send you to come get me or something? Because last time I checked you weren't my boss."

Before Lando could respond Logan spoke up. "I think I'm gonna leave you guys to-"

Your head snapped back to face Logan, grabbing his arm before he could move. "No. We were having a conversation." As you turned to look back at Lando you could have swore you saw him staring at your hand on Logan's arm, but his gaze flickered back towards you too quickly. "Lando I'll be back at the garage in a little bit. I was talking to Logan before you interrupted and I'd like to finish my conversation if you don't mind." Your tone nothing shy of shitty.

You just wanted him to leave, he was causing somewhat of a scene to the people close by. And thankfully for you he left without a word, only a disgruntled look and a huff as he walked back towards the McLaren garage.

"Sorry." You stated as you averted your attention back towards Logan "I don't know what his problem is anymore. Ever since Monza he's been so fucking bizarre. Always hot and cold, I never know what Lando I'm going to get. It's been making my life a little stressful if you couldn't tell."

Logan glanced at Lando walking away then back to you, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I think I might have a hunch."

Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement. What more could Logan know than you? Not to sound like one of those people, but you clearly knew Lando better than Logan. "What? What is it?"

Logan did the old sealing his lips and throwing away the key gesture. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Oh come on tell me!" You exclaimed, desperately wanting to know what Logan knew.

He quickly changed the subject. "So how about going to a rodeo in Austin?"

"Logan tell me!"

He only shook his head as you unsuccessfully tried to pry the information out of him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Austin

A month had passed since Singapore and you had spent your break alone. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great. If anything it made you realize you really needed to make friends outside of people at work.

It didn't help when pictures from the Bali trip that a bunch of the drivers had went on, Lando included, started to be posted. Bali had treated him well and you wanted to kick yourself for ogling over the pictures of him. Especially after how moody he's been, but you couldn't help it. His sun kissed skin, his curls in full force from the Bali climate, and that stupid smile (that you loved so much) on his face had you smitten.

The break was over soon enough and you weren't that upset because the end of the break meant that you were coming home for a little bit. Something that you had been looking forward to again ever since Miami.

The warm sun hit your face as you walked around the paddock. Texas in October was still warm and you hoped it wouldn't get too hot today. You were giddy, mainly because of being back in the states, but you also just had a good feeling about the race today. Somehow you knew either Oscar or Lando were going to have a good day today, you had hoped both, but at least one would make you happy.

As you snapped some pictures of the crew around the garage you felt a presence behind you. Though you already knew who it was, that cologne had invaded your senses one too many times for you to forget who donned it. Deciding to let him be the one to say something, you pretended you didn't notice him behind you and took some more pictures.

"Think I might be a better photo subject, don't you think?" Of course the first thing out of his mouth was some cheeky comment.

You merely rolled your eyes, and as you turned to face him you quickly captured an off guard photo of him. Clicking the buttons to look back at the photo you grimaced, turning it around to show Lando. "I think this photo says different."

Lando moved in closer next to you to get a better look. "That's not fair! I wasn't ready!" He exclaimed, laughter laced in his words.

Shaking your head you couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Every good photo subject should be camera ready at all times. This right here proves your statement wrong."

"Yeah whatever."

You had suddenly become hyper aware at just how close the two of you were. Your arms pressed against each other as the two of you huddled around your camera. It had been awhile since you had been in this close proximity to him and you weren't sure if it was that or the cologne but your head was spinning. Your gaze wandered from his big hands that now held your camera, up his arms, then neck, and they finally landed on his face. The tan he had acquired in Bali still glowed in the Texas sun and his curls moved slightly in the breeze. God, you had missed him. You had not only missed him physically, you missed the Lando you were in the presence of right now. The funny and sweet Lando. Not the Lando you had in Singapore.

"Hey can we talk real quick?"

Hearing his voice had snapped you out of the trance you didn't even know you were in. A blush crept onto your cheeks, you only hoped he hadn't caught you staring. You only nodded your head at him, hoping you had heard him correctly.

"I wanted to apologize for how I was in Singapore. That wasn't me back there. I think I was still mentally struggling from doing poorly in Azerbaijan and knowing I would and did do poorly in Singapore just added onto it. So again I'm sorry."

Wow. Where did this Lando come from? You were grateful for him apologizing, but there were still plenty of other things he needed to apologize for.

"Oh. It's okay (even though it really wasn't). Thank you for apologizing though." You weren't going to ruin this now rare good moment with Lando, so you quickly changed the subject. "So how was Bali?"

His eyes lit up. "Oh it was amazing. Wish I could have just stayed there. You would have loved it too, you should have come!"

Well, there was never an invite sent your way, so how were you supposed to have come? Is what you wanted to say, but instead you just said. "Think that might be frowned upon in the workplace."

Lando shook his head. "I doubt it. How was your break though?"

You shrugged, it definitely was nothing like Bali. "Just spent some time at home."

A frown stretched across Lando's face. "Now see, now I really wish you would have came."

You just ignored him, the idea that he was stood here telling you he wanted you to come but couldn't even invite you stung a little bit. So you changed the subject again and the two of you chatted until race time, and for a moment it was just like old times. Lando soon left to prepare for the race and you finished up the crew pictures.

Later as you stood there while the national anthem played you had no idea just how crazy your night was about to be.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

If there was a race Lando was looking forward to the least, he would have to say Austin. The main reason being he knew Logan and you would be up eachothers asses.

But after some self reflection during the break he had promised himself he would be on his best behavior from now on. Personal life and racing included. He had trained extra hard this past week, running the sim like no other, and trying make up to the team for how badly he had performed in the previous two races. Everyone knew the car was more than capable of performing, it was the driver who was at fault for the poor position. The driver who after Singapore may have went into a spiral after realizing he may have fucked everything up more even more than what he thought after Monza.

Lando couldn't help it, it was like when he saw you with other guys, specifically Logan, his brain short circuited and every promise he had made to himself about behaving went out the window. But after having that moment with you in the garage moments ago he realized he had to keep his shit together. It was the first real carefree funny moment the two of them shared in months. He didn't want to go that long without it again, without you near him, without hearing your laugh that he had caused. So if all you were ever going to be in his life was a friend, Lando guessed he could live with it.

Him living with it lasted until the post race celebrations.

He had tried, really he had. In fact he held up the racing end of his promise by winning. His first Grand Prix win to be exact. In the post race interviews he credited his win to all the extra hard work he had been putting in and of course the team, but his big motivator may have been winning to impress you. Even if he had said he was fine with being friends, he still wanted to show to you that he wasn't the loser that you had seen in the last two races. Show you that in many ways he was better than Logan, and what better way than to win the race both of them were competing in. And the fact that it was an American race was just an added bonus to him. He was grasping at straws at this point, but the little sliver of hope kept him sane, until it didn't.

How a big group of drivers, significant others, and friends ended up at some club, karaoke bar, line dancing, and mechanical bull place all wrapped into one he will never know. But he was sure you had something to do with it. It was a far cry from the places he was used to overseas or hell even in Miami or Vegas, but he had just won the Grand Prix, he was going to have a good time no matter where he was at.

The drinks were going down smooth tonight, and at one point he had lost count of how many he had consumed. It seemed like they just magically kept appearing in front of him, he was constantly being brought drinks or shots from people wanting to congratulate him on his win. At this point he was starting to feel a little unsteady on his feet. Perhaps he may have gone too hard too fast with the alcohol tonight. He wasn't plastered yet, but he was getting there quick. He was about ready to down another shot when his teammate came up behind him. "Think you may need to slow down on the drinking for awhile."

Oscar walked alongside Lando, well more like guided him, towards the karaoke section of the place. Sitting him down at one of the booths as he slid in next to him. Lando slumped forward, his face resting wobbly in his hands. You were seated at the same booth but directly across from them.

"Jesus Lan, we've been here two hours. How much have you had to drink?" You asked.

Lando held up his pointer finger, indicating one.

Oscar and you shook your heads at the curly haired driver. "Very funny." You stated.

Lando now donned a sour look on his face, they had misunderstood his gesture. "No. I'm number 1!"

"Yes Lando you won today." Oscar reassured his teammate.

Oscar and you sipped your drinks while you prayed Lando would sober up enough that you didn't need to be worried about him. The pair was having to either decline the drinks that people were sending over for the winner or drink them themselves. They soon found themselves a little on the tipsy side from perhaps doing the same thing Lando was guilty of moments ago.

"You guys are freaking idiots." Lando mumbled. The once responsible friends that were looking after Lando were now in the same boat as him. Perhaps Lando was slightly more sober than them at this point.

After your second tequila sunrise the idea of karaoke sounded like the best thing ever. You knew Oscar wouldn't be up for it and Lando didn't look the happiest right now, so you searched the place for the one person who you knew would be up for it. You were able to spot him easily, his tall frame making him stand out in the crowd.

"Logan!"

You were tipsy enough to forget that yelling for a person in a loud club did absolutely nothing. And as you yelled again Lando tried to just tune you out, ignore the annoyance and jealousy arising in him over you hollering another man's name. He was supposed to be on his best behavior, but he should have known from before that alcohol and his good behavior don't mix.

You had finally gotten Logan's attention and as Lando saw the American driver walk towards their table he fiddled with his phone. Not even bothering to acknowledge him as he greeted him.

"Will you please do karaoke with me?" He heard you ask Logan and without even looking up he knew you were giving Logan those damn puppy dog eyes that you used to give him when you wanted him to do something for you.

He heard Logan laugh and from the corner of his eye he saw him reach out his hand for you to grab. "Yes, but only for my favorite girl."

Lando's blood ran cold at Logan's use of words. His favorite girl? His? The simple three letter word made his body tense and as the pair walked away Lando finally looked up. He had wished he hadn't as he saw Logan's arm around your shoulder as the two of them walked.

"Mate I thought you had gotten your shit together? I can feel how tense you are from over here." Oscar's speech was clear, he clearly hadn't drank as much as Lando thought.

"I'm perfectly fine." Lando stated as he looked back down at his phone.

"Yeah and my ears didn't pop from the pressure displacement in the air when you heard Logan call Y/N his favorite girl."

Lando did not like that fact that he was trapped in this booth with the one person who could read him like a book. "Can you let me out?"

Oscar scoffed at Lando's question. "You don't want to listen to Y/N and Logan sing? We have an excellent view of the stage." He took another swig of his drink as he eyed his teammate.

Not even twenty seconds later the two Americans took the stage and Lando suddenly found his phone to be more interesting. They had decided to sing some song about saving horses and riding cowboys, whatever it was Lando had tried to tune it out. But when he would hear you laugh in between parts of the song his eyes would venture from his phone up to the stage. He never looked for long, his jealousy getting the best of him when he would see how close Logan and you were. Not even physically, at this point they were clearly emotionally close, perhaps even closer than Lando and you ever were. At least that's what Lando's worst case scenario brain told him.

Lando managed to make it through their karaoke session without blowing a gasket. But as you returned to the table your smile faded as you looked at Lando, who looked less than thrilled as you approached him.

Sliding back into the booth you eyed him. Your mouth working faster than your brain. "Why are you always so unhappy when I'm around anymore? Or when we go out? If you don't want me to come out just tell me." The apology he had given you earlier didn't even exist at this point and the one good moment that you didn't want to ruin from earlier was gone too. You had enough liquid courage in you to finally say what had been eating away at you for months.

Lando was slightly taken aback by your sudden abruptness. He wasn't sure what to say at first. His teeth found the inside of his bottom lip as he tried to choose his words carefully. "I'm not unhappy when you're around, I love having you around. Also, I wouldn't invite you out if I didn't like having you around Y/N." He figured leaving out the mention of him hating when Logan is out with you was a good idea.

You huffed before grabbing one of the shots that had just been dropped off at the table. You downed it easily, slamming the shot glass back down on the table. "Really? Because you sure don't show it."

Oscar was still seated next to Lando, taking sips of his drinks as he watched the two of them go back and forth. He knew this was a long time coming, but he didn't expect to get a front row seat to it.

Lando sat up straight in the booth, suddenly getting defensive. "Why would I not want you around?"

You drummed you fingers against the table as you stared him down. "You always get so pissy when we are out. Like I'm not allowed to have fun or something. Or not allowed to have a little free time while I'm working."

"That's not true." Even though it was.

You rolled your eyes, you clearly were getting nowhere with this conversation and perhaps you should have waited until you both were sober. "You know what nevermind. I should have never brought it up."

Your sarcastic tone went straight through Lando, but he didn't even get a chance to respond back as you had already scooted out of the booth and was lost in the sea of bodies.

"That went well." Oscar stated, but when Lando didn't respond Oscar just kept going. "You remember what I said on the way to the airport in Monza? Either tell you how you feel or get your shit together? You know she's not a confrontational person, so she has clearly had enough of your shit to even bring it up." He took the last swig of his drink and as he got up from the booth he gave Lando one last final warning. "You're gonna lose her and this little conversation the two of you just had was proof enough."

Lando now sat alone in the booth, the only thing surrounding him was empty glasses. How did his nights that were supposed to be filled with celebration and good times always end up filled with drama and regrets? Oscar's words ate away at him as sat there twiddling his thumbs. How much more of this back and forth shit could he take? How much more could you take? Lando scanned the table and found one lonesome shot untouched. He wasn't even sure what it was until that familiar burn hit his throat.

Tequila.

Tequila always seemed to make him make bad decisions, so he knew tonight was either going to end badly or great. Either way he was finally going to man up and tell you how he felt.

It didn't take long to find you, considering you had made yourself the center of attention in the whole place. He heard your laughs before he saw you, but from the crowd of men gathered around the mechanical bull he knew exactly where you were.

He pushed his way to the front and sure enough there you were. When he saw you on that thing he couldn't help but stare. The operator of the machine clearly knew what he was doing, giving everyone a show. The way your thighs clenched onto the sides of the bull to help you stay on. Your ass and tits jiggling when the operator moved the bull a certain way. Not to mention just watching your body sway, you'd think you were a pro at this. Lando's mind started to wonder to how you'd look on top of him and that's when he realized it wasn't just him watching you look like that. You were surrounded by a big group of men, some of them his fellow competitors, that he was sure were also thinking the same impure thoughts as him.

He spotted the Ferrari drivers first, both of them leaning over the railing watching you intently. Then he spotted Logan, eyes wide as he watched your ass shake in the air.

This was the beginning of the end of Lando's good behavior promise. Lando could feel his blood starting to boil, knowing all these men were undoubtedly getting their dicks hard over you. He didn't mean to cause a scene, really he didn't. But before he even realized what he was doing he had jumped the railing and had his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you off the bull. Your legs kicking him and insults flew through the air as you protested his actions. He had carried you towards a relatively empty area and as he sat you down he prepared himself for the fallout of his actions.

"What the fuck is your problem?" You shouted, anger and liquor doing nothing to conceal how you felt.

Lando raised his hands in defense. "Y/N. I was just trying to protect you-"

"Why would I need protecting? Especially coming from you? The way you've acted towards me these past couple months I figured you'd rather me be dead!"

The handful of people who were around had started to stare, if Lando had thought he caused a scene moments ago, it was nothing compared to now.

Lando tried to explain himself. "You should have seen how those guys were looking at you."

You scoffed at his comment. "Well have you thought maybe I wanted them to look? I'm allowed to have a little fun Lando, maybe you should try it sometime. In fact I'm surprised you haven't found your random girl to hookup with on my hotel room door yet." Your words were laced with venom, he had finally pushed you hard enough.

His eyes narrowed at you. "Why are you bringing up what happened in Monza? All I was trying to do was save you from a night filled with fighting off all those sleazy guys. They only wanted one thing from you, especially the other drivers."

Shaking your head at Lando, a laugh escaped past you lips. "Yeah I guess you would know about using women wouldn't you?"

Lando ignored you dig at him, fully knowing what you had said was true.

"I just think you should be careful about who you are friends with. The way Logan was looking at you-" More often than not Lando was quite the hypocrite when it came to his issues with you.

Your jaw tightened at the mention of Logan, there was no reason to bring him into this.

Tonight was the final straw, you had truly had enough. This wasn't a healthy friendship and as much as it pained you, it was becoming more of a reality that this chapter of your life was needing to come to an end. As you cut the McLaren driver's sentence off you knew this may be the last time you spoke to him.

"You know what Lando, you are right. I do need to be more careful about who I'm friends with." You moved closer to him, the two of them merely inches apart, your finger poking at his chest as you spoke. "And he's standing right here."

Lando could have swore all the air left his body as you spoke those five words to him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Surely he had heard you wrong. "You don't mean that." Lando stammered, his eyes never leaving yours, trying to search for a joking gleam in your eyes. But dark, cold, and empty eyes were all that stared back at him.

"I do." You whispered, you hand lingering on his chest, you could feel his heart racing, yours doing the same.

Lando stood there dumbfounded as you walked away. He didn't protest, purely from the fact that he was still processing what had just happened. Had he finally lost you? From the looks of it he had and he hadn't even told you how he felt. Why couldn't he be normal for once? He always had to make everything about him, about how he felt.

He figured at this point what else did he have to lose? He was still going to tell you how he felt about you. Maybe if he was lucky you would feel the same, but with Lando's track record he knew his chances were slim.

You had a good head start on him, but his legs carried him as fast as they could out of the building and down the street towards the hotel. He silently thanked god that there weren't any fans outside the hotel and by the time he reached you room he was out of breath as he knocked on you door.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could you have been so stupid? The tears thankfully hadn't started to fall until you had reached your hotel room, but now as you sat on your bed they wouldn't stop coming.

You knew what you did was the right thing, but you still felt stupid. Stupid for even developing feelings for Lando in the first place, stupid for allowing your relationship to turn into what it had. Why you ever let it get to this point was beyond you. It hurt, god did it hurt, but life teaches you lessons and this clearly was one. As you typed up a draft resignation letter on your phone you heard a rapid knock at your door. You had texted Oscar earlier letting him know you were coming back to the hotel, that things had gone sour between Lando and you. So, you figured that was him coming to check up on you.

But oh boy were you wrong. On the other side of the door stood an out of breath Brit, who was the cause of the tears you were now rapidly trying to wipe away. You had tried to slam the door in his face, but he quickly stuck his foot in the doorframe, a groan coming from him as the door hit his foot.

Good I hope it hurt you thought.

"Y/N please. I need to talk to you." His grip on the door was much stronger than yours and he easily was able to make his way into your room.

"Why so you can shame me or be rude to me or bad mouth one of my friends again? Think you did enough of that earlier." You stood your ground, arms crossed across your chest.

Lando closed the door behind him and as he eyed you he fully took you in. The red puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks. God he had fucked up. "What was said earlier got blown way out of proportion. That's not how I intended for you to take my words."

"It wasn't just what you said earlier Lando, it's been a combination of a lot of other things. I don't know what switched between us, but it's not the same as it used to be. You're an ass to me more than not anymore. I don't know what I did to make you act like that, but you won't have to deal with me much longer. I'm writing my resignation letter. It'll be sent in the morning and I'll be gone."

Lando had started to panic, the realness of the situation they had found themselves in had really started to set in. "No no no no! You don't have to quit your job. You love what you do."

A loud sigh passed your lips, clearly annoyed at him. "Well when the main person I work with can't ever seem to be happy with what I do or associate myself with, then perhaps quitting is what needs to be done." Maybe it was some of the alcohol still in your system or maybe you just wanted to be an ass back to him finally, but the tears had subsided and your mood had turned slightly petty. "Which now that I think about it, why do you care so much about who I hang out with? I mean it's ok for you to fuck any woman with pulse, but I suddenly become close with other drivers and now it's time to slut shame me? Wonder what the press would think about that?"

The smirk that was on you face made Lando irate, you were so fucking stubborn sometimes. All he had wanted to do was come up here and confess how he felt, fix his fuck up from earlier, but now he was riled up again.

"When in the fuck have I slut shamed you? I mean what do you want me to say? That you can go fuck my competitors? If thats all thats stopping you then please don't let me get in your way." Lando regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. The last thing he wanted was for you to go fuck someone else.

That wasn't at all what you were trying to get at. In fact it was the opposite, but if he was going to bring it up, you were going to play along, anything to get under his skin. What better way to hurt a man's ego than to talk about how much you would want to get with his competitors. You grabbed your phone off the bed, unlocking it and scrolling through your contacts. "Maybe I will. I mean I have endless choices don't I? I know Charles would have loved to fuck me in Monza. Or perhaps Logan? You said yourself he was eyeing me tonight. Or maybe Charles and Carlos both? You should have seen how they were with me in the taxi when we were in Monza."

Lando thought he was going to lose his mind, he felt like he was going to break his jaw from how hard he had it clenched. Just hearing you say those things had him on the edge of snapping. "Hmm. I think I'll go with Logan. Think he would know how to please me." Before you could even pretend to start texting him Lando's hand was on your wrist, prying you phone from your hands. His breath labored as he pulled you close to him.

"You are not fucking any of them."

Your eyes widened at his actions, his hands around your wrists, his pupils blown as he stared you down, and the smell of tequila on his breath. The petty joking manner you had moments ago was now long gone.

The angry tension in the air had now transitioned into something foreign, something deeper. And unknown to you but you had been the one to change it.

"Well why not?" You had tried to bring back the previous atmosphere, but the Lando that stood inches away from you was one you had never seen before.

"Because the only driver you can fuck is me."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. If there was a world record for how fast someone could blush you were sure you had just broken it, except your whole body felt like it was blushing. It radiated through your body directly to your core.

Your mind felt like tv static, you didn't know what to say or do. Lando was still inches away from you, your wrists still tightly in his grasp. "What?" Was all you could muster up and even that was barely coherent.

"Oh come on. You aren't gonna make me spell it out for you are you?" With just a wide eyed blank stare as your response he freed your wrists, but his hands now glided over your arms and shoulders and up to your neck. The feeling of his hands dancing over your skin made your eyes flutter shut. This was far more different than your knees touching or a lingering hug.

This wasn't how Lando had expected to be telling you how he felt, he hadn't even had anything like this one his mind, but you talking so freely about fucking his friends flipped a switch in him. "You gonna make me tell you how I've been obsessed with you since I saw you sitting in that meeting on your first day? How I drove myself crazy trying to distance myself from you, but you're so fucking intoxicating you just kept drawing me back in. How I basically ruined our friendship because I couldn't stand to see you with fucking Logan."

He paused, but still maintained eye contact as he pressed a chaste kiss on your hand. "Is it wrong of me to assume you've wanted me as bad as I've wanted you?" It was almost his way of asking permission to continue, and you granted it easily by letting out a faint 'no'. With that simple word his kisses moved from your hand up your arm and finally landing on your neck. It was somewhat embarrassing how hot and bothered his words and just some simple kisses were making you.

"Or how about how I could only think of you when I got with other women. Wishing it was you I had pressed up against your hotel room door in Monza. How the idea of any other man even looking at you in a sexual way made me want to break their jaw. You want me to tell you how fucking stupid I was for not telling you how I felt sooner. For basically putting us through hell and back because I couldn't keep my shit together when you talked to Logan."

His kisses had gotten sloppier, and he started to pay more attention to your neck. A small moan emitting from you when he found that sweet spot. You could feel his smirk against your neck as your moans filled his ears.

As your mind slowly processed all that he had just said, a lot more things started to click. First of all your inklings about him feeling the same were very much correct. But to think you hadn't put him being an ass because he was jealous of Logan together had you baffled. Usually you were very observant, but clearly not observant enough. You felt like your body was on autopilot as he still worked on your neck, you were supposed to be mad at him, supposed to be leaving him, leaving all the shitty moments behind. But as you stood here now you were glad he had come up to your room. Glad that you didn't fight that hard to not let him into your room. Because even if you had cut him out of your life and left, you knew deep down those feelings for him would never go away. No matter what had happened between the two of you.

Your hands pressed against his abdomen as he was surely giving you something on your neck that was going to need to be covered in the morning. "Wish I would have told you how I felt sooner." Your words were breathy as his hands now wandered up under your shirt. "You weren't the only one being driven crazy. You were-" It was hard for you to focus on your words, your brain only wanting to focus on how good Lando's hands and lips felt on you. "You were constantly fucking with my head, making me think you liked me and then getting with other women. Made me feel like shit when I saw you with them and then you made me feel like shit for months because you're an asshole."

His attack on your neck had halted, the two of you making eye contact once again. Your eyes glanced down at his lips, they were red and swollen, as much as you wanted to hate him, your desire to kiss him was much stronger.

"I know baby and I'm sorry for ever making you feel like that.'

Your eyebrow raised at the term of endearment. "Baby? Moving a little fast there aren't you Norris?"

A smirk had spread across his face. "You've been my baby in my mind for a long time. So forgive me for being eager."

Rolling your eyes at the brunette you linked your hands behind his neck, once again staring at his lips. "You gonna finally kiss me or do I need to go find Logan?"

The mere mention of the American had Lando pulling you into him, your lips meeting in an instant. It took a second for your brain to catch up, but once it did you practically melted into him. You had thought for a long time what it would feel like to kiss Lando, and you were happy to say it was better than you had imagined. His right hand was cupping your face while his left held onto your side. If you were weak in the knees before you surely were now as the two of you pulled away from each other, grinning like idiots. "Why did we deprive ourselves of this for so long?" You asked as your thumb caressed his cheek.

Lando leaned into your touch. "I don't know. I guess we both like to suffer." He gently removed your hand from his face placing an open mouth kiss to your palm. "I still need you to know how sorry I am for being such an ass. Let me show you how sorry I am you." He started to trail kisses back up your arm and you honestly didn't need any convincing. With a simple 'ok' from you Lando's lips were back on yours as he leaded you back towards your bed, your lips never separating.

The back of your knees hit the end of the bed causing you to fall back onto the bed. Using your forearms to prop yourself up you stared back at the driver who was stood at the end of the bed. He kicked off his shoes and his shirt was being pulled over his head in a matter of seconds. He didn't even give you time to gawk at his toned abdomen before he was climbing onto the bed, his chain dangling over you as your lips reconnected. Wrapping your fingers around the chain you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Your need for him growing more and more by the minute. The desire for his touch consumed you and as you started to squirm under him you heard a soft laugh come from him.

"That needy huh?" His teasing tone causing the aching throb between your legs to intensify. With only a whine coming from you as a response he looped his fingers through your belt loops, slightly tugging on them. "Which should come off first? Pants or shirt?"

You were in no mood for his teasing, the idea of having to wait any longer for his hands to be on you again sounded like torture. "Both."

"Both? That's my girl."

My girl repeated in your head as you struggled to get your shirt off. Those two simple words causing your arousal to grow even more and as he pulled off your pants you sure you had already soaked your panties. But Lando wasn't focused on that yet, to his surprise when he looked up to see you taking off your shirt, you hadn't worn a bra. Your breasts were already on full display. "Jesus." He groaned as he climbed his way back up to you. "Should have known you didn't wear a bra tonight the way your tits were bouncing on that bull." He wasted no time, immediately placing his large hands on them. As he pinched and tugged one nipple with one hand, his mouth had found its way onto the other. It was a sight you couldn't tear your eyes away from, something you only dreamed about. A whimper escaped past your lips and Lando could have died right there a happy man as your whimpers filled his ears.

As much as you were enjoying the pleasure he was giving you, it was creating a much bigger need someplace else. If your panties weren't soaked earlier, they definitely were now. The aching between your legs was becoming almost unbearable. Your hands found there way to his hair, fingers running through his messy curls. "Lan." You breathed out. His actions halted at the sound of you calling for him, blown pupils staring up at you.

"What baby?" No audible response came from you, but when he saw you clench your thighs he knew exactly what you wanted. "Oh, I think I know what you want." His fingers trailed from your breasts all the way down to the waistband of your panties, his fingers toying with it, gently snapping it against your skin.

"Thought you weren't gonna be an ass anymore?" His teasing making you crazy.

Even though he was looking down you could see the smirk on his face, the little shit was enjoying every minute of making you squirm. You watched as his hands landed on your thighs and in one swift motion they were hooked under your knees and he had pulled you even closer to him, causing your legs to be wide open for him.

Lando felt his dick twitch at the sight of your soaked panties, and once he pulled them off he thought he had died and gone to heaven at just how fucking wet you were, from him. He hadn't even properly touched you yet and you were already a mess. His hands masssaged you inner thighs and ghosted around the area you wanted him the most. "God, you're gonna be the death of me. You know how fucking soaked you are?" He took a single finger and quickly ran it up your slit, your wetness that lathered his finger quickly entered his mouth.

Your skin was on fire from just that his one little action, and as you watched him suck your wetness from his finger you thought your heart was gonna beat out of your chest. "Lan please."

"Please what?"

You threw your head back in frustration, he had to be getting off on this. "I want your mouth" you glanced down at his long thick fingers that had found a home on your thighs once more "and your fingers."

"Whatever my girl wants." He scooted down on the bed and as he lowered his head between your thighs the pit in your stomach grew. He wasted no time in getting to work, or in finding your clit. As he gently sucked on the sensitive bud you couldn't hold in your moans. The boy was a fucking expert with his tongue and from the way he was devouring you, you could tell he was enjoying it. Your fingers grabbed his curls as he fucked your hole with his tongue, his nose brushing against your clit. It was embarrassing how fast he had you close to coming undone. Your chest heaving as you felt your orgasm coming, and he hadn't even used his fingers yet, but almost like he knew what you wanted, you felt two fingers slide inside of you. Your moans getting louder as he still worked your clit and finger fucked you at the same time. When he added a third finger and curled his fingers, reaching that soft spongy spot, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He had raised his head to look up at you, a smirk splayed across his glistening face, covered in your slick. "That's my pretty girl. Come on, I know you're close. Gonna come all over my fingers and face aren't you."

His words of praise went straight to your core and as you clenched around his fingers a small laugh came from him. "Someone likes to be praised." You couldn't even be bothered to give him a witty comment back, you were on the edge of coming undone. His mouth went back to work and in a matter of seconds you were unraveling beneath him. Your legs shook as he still worked you through your orgasm. His name tumbling out of your mouth like a chant.

Your breathing was labored as you tried to come down from your high. Glancing down at Lando, he had never looked hotter to you than right now. His face and fingers covered in you, his hair a mess and lips swollen from him devouring your pussy. And the mess between your thighs that was caused by him, had you craving more.

Lando's erection was painfully throbbing at this point, still trapped behind his boxers and jeans. How he didn't just blow his load at the sight of you unraveling because of him, he wasn't sure. But one thing he did know was that he needed to be inside you, immediately. "I know you're still coming down but I need you so badly." His hands fumbling with the button on his jeans.

You simply shook your head at him, hands reaching out to help him get his pants off. "I don't care what you do as long as you can make me come like that again."

The words of praise went straight to Lando's cock, he truly didn't think he had ever been this hard in his life. The way you were looking up at him through your lashes as you toyed with the waistband of his boxers had him groaning. "Y/N stop."

A look of innocence spread across your face. "What? I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine." Your hand brushed past his still clothed erection and the whimper that came from him was like music to your ears. You soon granted him relief has you tugged his boxers down, his cock slapping against his stomach. Your eyes widened as you took all of him in. He was clearly blessed with not only good size, but girth. The mere thought of him stretching you out had you practically drooling.

You wanted to please him the same way he had you, but you had barely rubbed your thumb over his tip before his his large hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your actions. "I really just want to be inside of you."

Not one to oblige you scooted back on the bed, head resting on the pillows as you watched him come towards you. The anticipation was killing you and as he rubbed his tip between your folds it had only made it worse. "You know how beautiful you are? Think you might be even more beautiful when you take my cock won't you baby?"

Eagerly nodding at his words you couldn't take your eyes off his cock as his tip teased your entrance. You knew he was going to be a tease, so you rolled your hips towards him, patience not being your strong suit when it came to him. "That hungry for my cock huh?"

In one swift motion he had pushed himself in you, completely bottoming out. "Oh my god!" It had caught you off guard, even with how wet you were it still hurt a little as his cock stretched you out.

You hadn't even realized you had clenched around him until he spoke up. "Fuck. I'm not gonna last long if you keep doing that." His face scrunched up in pleasure.

"Sorry." You stated, pressing a kiss to his forearm.

Lando had started to move his hips and as the first waves of pleasure jolted through your body you couldn't help but think this is not how you saw your night going when you woke up this morning.

The room was filled with a mix of both yours and Lando's moans and the sound of slapping skin. You weren't trying to be dramatic, but you truly thought Lando's cock was made for you. The way he filled you up just right with each stroke was making your head spin.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you could feel yourself getting close again, the familiar pit in your stomach growing as he pounded into you relentlessly. The pleasure overwhelming you. But just at the brink of coming undone for the second time tonight he abruptly pulled out.

"You've got to be jok-"

He lightly slapped your thigh. "Ass up."

He didn't have to tell you twice as you quickly flipped over, face buried in the pillows, back arched with your ass in the air. The cool air on your now very exposed pussy sent a shiver down your spine.

Lando was enjoying the view as he lightly toyed with your clit earning a muffled moan from you. His hands gripped your waist to enter you once more when something in the corner of the room caught his eye. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand and the other under your stomach he pulled you up and back towards him until your back was flush against his chest, practically sitting in his lap. His still very prominent erection rubbing between your folds. As he positioned the both of you to face the corner of the room that's when you saw it.

Your reflection staring back at you. The horny little shit wanted to fuck you in front of the mirror. You couldn't lie the thought of it was hot. So, you took the initiative, as you raised your hips you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance.

The both of you watching in the mirror as you sank down onto him. The image right up there with Lando eating you out as one of the hottest things you'd seen. A string of curse words was heard from Lando and all you could do was grip his legs as you felt him buck up inside you.

As you rolled your hips you couldn't tear your eyes away from the mirror and neither could Lando. The new position allowing for him to feel even deeper inside you, if that was possible. One of his hands reached around and started to rub your clit, the added pleasure causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nope. Open your eyes pretty girl. I want you to watch."

When you didn't open them he told you again, but when you didn't open them the third time, his other hand was now suddenly wrapped around your throat. His large hand easily covering the front of your throat. The slight pressure he applied to the sides of your throat caused your eyes to fly open, but combine that with you riding his cock and his other hand still working on your clit you were once again on the brink of an orgasm. The sight of you in the mirror was nothing less than pornogrpahic and if Lando could, he would have taken a picture.

The feeling though was gone again, in a matter of seconds. He had basically thrown you off his cock, then pulled you off the bed, the both of you now directly in front of the mirror. You were impressed with Lando's stamina and you knew from him practically edging you (and himself) twice now, when he finally did let you come it was going to be mind blowing.

He had you bent over, hands gripping the sides of the mirror, as he spread your legs. This time there was no teasing your clit, he wasted no time, his cock slamming into you as soon as your legs were spread. His thrusts were relentless, you weren't sure if you would even be able to walk tomorrow. But from the way his fingers were gripping your waist you for sure knew there would be bruises there tomorrow. Your moans only encouraging him more as he slapped your ass, the sting only adding to your pleasure.

"God, look at you. Taking my cock like that. Who else can fuck you like this huh? Make you an absolute mess?"

You were too fucked out to respond, your legs feeling weak as you watched him in the mirror. Lando's hand reached around towards you neck, finding its previous home from moments ago. "I said who else can fuck you like this?" He gave your throat a light squeeze.

"No one. Only you." You finally mustered up, brain too consumed by pleasure to actually form a sentence.

You watched as the smirk formed on his face at your words. "There's my good girl." Your pussy fluttering at the pet name, which in turn earned a 'fuck' from Lando.

His other hand reached down to your clit, once again giving it some attention. As your orgasm approached you prayed this would be the time he finally would let you come. Your whimpers a telltale sign to Lando you were ready. "Gonna be a good girl and come for me? Come on baby. Let everyone know who's making you feel this good. Want everyone to know your mine."

With his words of praise your orgasm washed over you, hard. The pleasure was so intense you couldn't even hold yourself up anymore. Your body convulsing as your ears started to ring. Lando's name echoing out of your mouth in a less than quiet volume. It didn't help that he was still fucking you through your orgasm, the overstimulation bringing you almost to tears at how good it felt. Lando came seconds later, hot sticky cum filling you up. Profanties mixed with your name bounced around the room as he milked every ounce out of his orgasm.

As he pulled out a whimper came from you at the sudden empty feeling, while a groan came from him at the sight of his cum leaking out of you.

Lando basically carried you back to the bed, afraid your legs would give out if you tried to walk. His arms immediately wrapping around you as you rested your head on his chest. "Think I accomplished your request didn't I?" Lando asked with a smirk on his face. His fingers rubbing gently circles on your back.

"You did more than accomplish it Norris. I think everyone in the hotel knows that." A blush creeping onto your cheeks at the fact that you were not so quiet moments ago.

"Poor Oscar." Lando laughed. Oh god, you had forgotten Oscar's room was right next to yours. "Actually don't worry about it. He should be happy we are finally together."

Raising your head to look at him you gave him a questioning look. "Together? I never remember getting asked anything. Only being told I could only fuck you."

Lando rolled his eyes at your dramatics. "Yes and that statement still stands." His free hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. He hadn't planned for tonight to go the way it did, but as he laid here in bed with you in his arms he wouldn't have it any other way. He wanted this all the time. "In all seriousness. I do want you to be mine. My girlfriend."

You would have never thought you'd be in this position. It had been a tough couple months for the two of you and just hours ago you were ready to erase him from your life as best as your could. But you still loved him, even more now if that was possible.

"Well it's a good thing I want you to be mine too huh?" His eyes lit up at your words, smiling for ear to ear. His lips were on yours in an instant, something you don't think you'll ever get used to. "Even though you were an asshole." You said as you pulled away.

Lando let out a sigh. "Well I guess I'm still gonna have to show you how sorry I am aren't I?" His cheeky expression not matching his tone of voice.

"I think so." You stated as your lips met once again.

An ignored text alert sounded off from the bedside table of the two lovers. It wouldn't be read until morning, laughter coming from Lando as your cheeks turned red.

Oscar: well I'm glad I'm not in the middle of whatever the hell that friends to crushes to miserable fucks to enemies shit you two had going on anymore. but please for the love of god remind me to never take the room by either of you again!!!!!!

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fic #praying this doesn't flop bc i worked so hard on it and its literally 18k words... lmfao #mine #writing

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 year ago

Text

no more mister shy guy.

OP x fem!reader

in which you can’t work out why he just won’t sleep with you

i am neither normal, nor am i hinged! i hope you guys get the vision, i literally wrote this last night possessed by some feral urge bc i just love oscar sm and i’ve been needing to write for him sooo baaad. enjoy! pls lemme know what you think <3

songs to set the vibes: delicate by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, my kind of woman by max demarco, feeling myself by wolf alice

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp but also there is some plot? overstimulation, crying in a hot way, choking, unprotected sex (L bozo don’t do that!) the most minor moment of angst, fluff

2.8k words

you watch him make coffee, daydreaming, balancing your heavy head on your hand. you study him while your free hand taps against the kitchen counter, nails drumming a random beat. sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, framing him golden. you don’t think he knows how pretty he is.

oscar is oblivious to the way your mind is ticking behind him, twisting the cap on the carton of oat-milk. you hear the plastic fall onto the counter and your tongue wets your lower lip as he reaches up into the cupboard, his back flexing beneath his shirt as he finds your favourite mug. you realise then how swollen your lip is, snapped out of the trance he had you in, the one that had you biting your lip so hard, completely mindlessly.

he’s bulked up over the winter break, filled out a lot over the course of his rookie season. he’s no longer the scrawny, anxious guy you’d met at your fathers work event a year ago, he’s broader, thicker in your hands, utterly delicious. as much as you like the way he looks, you like his mind a whole lot more. if only you knew what was going on inside it.

oscar is an enigma, quiet, hilariously dry, the kindest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. you’ve been together since the start of the winter break, november, after awkward run ins and plenty of pining since the start of his first season. you’d travel to races with your dad, a mclaren sponsor, and run into the australian, stare at each other and pretend no one noticed. after months of teasing from lando, oscar finally got the kick up the arse that he needed and you’d said yes to dinner before he’d even finished asking the question.

it’s february now, a week til he needs to be in bahrain. the last three months had been serene, spent with a man made of sunshine, and you’re sad to see him go, as if you won’t be in the emirates a mere four days after him. you fear the way you’ll ache for him, having been inseparable since the dinner that started it all.

but then again, it can’t be worse than the way you ache for him now.

“sweetheart?” oscar is waving his hand in front of your face when you realise he’s been calling your name for a good 15 seconds, and you have, in fact, been staring. hm? you jump, staring at him bewildered. he looks amused. “you okay?” he coos, sliding the coffee across the island towards you.

“yeah, sorry, i, um, i just- why won’t you have sex with me?” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you realise what you’ve just said.

oscar just blinks, mouth forming a little o, the permanent blush he seems to have increasing tenfold. you instantly feel guilty for ambushing him, but you were at the end of your tether. three months of nothing, nada, zilch. every move you made was refuted, ignored as if he was oblivious. you were ravenous for him, he’s so gorgeous! and you didn’t want to pressure him, but you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you.

you’d wake up in bed with him wrapped around you, grinding against your ass in his sleep, and you’d revel in it, the rare times that he actually seemed to want you like that. you loved him regardless, of course you did, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need to be… dealt with. urgently.

“i- um- what?” oscar splutters, and the bottom of his mug blinks against the granite.

“is there something wrong with me? am i not pretty enough?” you whisper, shy. “do you just not… like- do you not want to do that?” you ramble.

panic fills his face, and he’s rushing around the island, by your side in an instant. he takes your hands into his, finding your eyes. they’ve grown watery, a mixture of guilt and desperation swirling in them which makes him feel ill.

“baby, no, god no.” he rushes the words out, desperate to convince you that it wasn’t you. “you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world, prettiest girl i ever saw.” he promises. “i’m just… it’s scary.”

“oh, osc.” your face falls, and you want to throw yourself off of the balcony. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you. if it makes you feel better, i’m scared too. but i love you so much, i just want to feel even closer to you.”

“you didn’t make me feel pressured, i’m just sorry i made you feel unwanted. trust me, i want you like that. drives me insane. but i’ve never had sex before with someone that i love. not the way i love you, anyway. scared that i won’t be good enough for you.” he murmurs.

you’re hung up on the part where you drive him crazy, the part where he loves you like that, and then you remember how vulnerable he’s being, baring his entire soul to you, and you rip yourself from the fantasy.

your hands smooth over his shoulders, until you’re softly fisting a clump of hair at the nape of his neck.

“i love you. insanely. we’ll go slow.” you state. he moulds further against you, and you quickly realise it’s for leverage, because the next thing you know, you’re in his arms. he has his hands hooked under your thighs and he’s kissing you so, so deeply that you’re dizzy. you don’t realise that you’re halfway to his bedroom until he pulls away.

“i don’t wanna go slow anymore.”

oscar places you on your feet at the end of his bed, the large, plush king-sized mattress that is currently calling both of your names. your blouse gets unbuttoned first, his hands shaking in a way that makes you melt, and his lips trail over every inch of bare skin that he uncovers. when it finally falls to the floor, his pupils are blown wide, his hands palming intricate black lace. your jeans are stripped away mercilessly, his hands shaking less now, and you take it as a sign to crawl backwards onto the bed.

he stands there, watching you, apprehensive again. you can see how hard he is, how desperately strained his cock is through the light grey of his sweatpants, and so you switch tactics. your hand grazes your tummy, skimming up your abdomen until you reach a bra strap. you toy with the elastic, holding the kind of eye contact that makes him twitch, tugging it until it hangs loosely off of your shoulder.

“i need you, osc. i trust you.” you utter, soft and enticing. one finger runs under the cup of your bra, flicking over your nipple. he can just about see the hardened bud through the lace of your bra. it’s not enough, though, and every ounce of self control depletes when you whine, “want you inside of me so badly.”

the elastic band snaps and he’s on top of you, rutting between your legs like a man starved. you drag his shirt up and over his shoulder blades, moaning as you feel each and every muscle under your fingertips.

“just wanna make you feel good.” oscar rasps, rolling his hips even harder into your core.

“take these off.” you beg, pulling at the waistband of his joggers. he somehow musters the strength to pry himself off of you, just long enough to discard the uncomfortable material of his sweats, but as soon as he looks down, his plans change.

painted over the crotch of them is a shiny pool of your slick, and when his eyes flit hungrily to your core, he sees where you’ve soaked through your panties. you’re panting when you see the stain, and you just want to get him inside of you, but his priorities have changed. oscar collapses between your legs, head buried, tongue exploring.

he groans, carnal and needy, into the fabric of your underwear, laving his tongue over the lace. your eyes widen as he dives in, licking over the wet patch until he grows frustrated. you hear the tearing of the fabric, feel his big hands pawing at your thighs to spread them as wide as they’ll go. his tongue slides right inside of you and he whines. he fucking whines. the vibration nearly makes you scream. you can’t believe this is your oscar, the same oscar that had quivered with nerves a mere five minutes ago.

“oh my god.” you chant, rolling your hips against his face. you must be all over him by now, what with the way he’s sucking and slurping, obscene sounds of wetness sounding around the room. you’d be blushing a deep red if you weren’t so turned on, shaking against his bedspread which will probably need changing once he’s done with you.

you thought that maybe he was inexperienced and that was the source of his fear, but if he was, you never would have known. he was a natural in between your legs, nipping at your clit to get you even louder for him.

you cum faster than ever, and he’s mumbling something incoherent into your pussy when you do. you’re riding the high, midway through the bliss, when a thick finger slips its way inside of you. oscar realises that he can easily slide another in, and he does. he doesn’t thrust them in and out, he grinds them against your walls, and your mouth falls open as a silent scream forces it’s way out.

you cum a second time, in record time yet again, and he still doesn’t let up. he’s hitting that spot relentlessly with his fingers, keeping your clit between his swollen lips, and you’re begging him. for what, you’re not sure, but you’re whimpering his name like you’re going to die. and what a good way to go this would be.

his eyes meet yours, and he looks unhinged. that’s when you feel it. that all consuming, belly twisting rush.

“oscar!” you try to warn him, but it’s too late, and he knows it. he makes you squirt, because of course he does. the shy guy who was scared that he wouldn’t be able to please you makes you squirt.

he pulls his mouth off of you but keeps his fingers buried deep, eyes fixed on watching the way your pussy convulses.

“holy shit.” you cry. you’re staring down at him like you’ve gone insane. he’s smiling innocently.

“was that good?” he almost sounds shy and you want to kick him.

“are you… are you serious?” you rasp. oscar just shrugs. “get up here.” you reach for him and complies, slotting himself between your legs once more.

oscar resumes the rolls of his hips, and the friction of the grey fabric against your core makes your eyes roll back.

“please, oscar, fuck me.” you whine, his head falling into the crook of your neck. he bites down, leaving behind the sting of his teeth and a faint purple splotch.

“fucking love you.” he slurs, his accent thickening in a way that makes him sound that extra bit fucked out already.

“i love you.” you murmur, forcing his sweats down his legs. his boxers are wet, just like your panties were, and you can’t help but stare. oh, it’s big.

his boxers are peeled down and you can feel yourself throbbing. his cock hangs heavy, red and dripping, painfully hard. you reach for it, looking at him to make sure it’s okay to touch, and he’s rapidly nodding his head. your small hand struggles but you make it work, and his head tips back, exposing his thick neck that you want to suck purple. your hand works over him a few times, and a visible shiver running through his body makes you stop.

“you ready for me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“please.” you gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “however you want me, ‘m yours.” you breathe.

oscar’s eyes roll back in his head, your words sending his brain blank, and then he’s pushing home, slow and deep.

“fucking hell.” he groans, guttural. you’re so tight, warm, soaking wet. he feels like the biggest idiot in the world for waiting so long for this.

“oh.” you gasp, your eyebrows knitting together. he’s so deep. “so full.” you pant.

“can you take it, sweetheart?” oscar’s lips bump your jaw. “want you to take it.” you nod profusely, desperate to hear him run his mouth even further. your eyes clench shut when you feel him move, just the tiniest bit, readjusting.

“move.” you plead. he’s staring down at you, watching every single micro movement of your face.

oscar pulls out the smallest bit and thrusts back in, nice and slow. the drag drives you feral, the weight of him on top of you makes you weak. you want to stay like this until the end of days.

“good?” he hisses, trying to keep composed. he’s finally inside of you, claiming you as his in the most intimate way of all. he tries not to think about how many times he could have had you begging under him in the last three months.

“so good, so good.” you repeat, pushing your hips up to try and meet his.

“so pretty like this for me. always so, so pretty.” he rambles. he realises that he never quite made it as far as getting your bra off, and he needs to see all of you. the cups are tugged haphazardly down, and oscar stares at your breasts like he’s never seen tits before. you hear him hum, low and greedy, and then you feel the wet drag of his tongue across your nipple.

the animalistic whine that he rips from you makes him thrust harder, upping his pace a bit. he can hear how much wetter you get when he picks up his pace, and he changes up his rhythm, pushing all the way in and dragging out again at lightning speed. your jaw goes slack and your eyes are damp.

“baby, what’s wrong?” oscar slows to a stop, and you want to scream.

“no, no, no, keep going.” you choke out, your throat constricting with a sob. “it’s so good. feel so good.” you sound drunk, all for him, and he loses his mind completely.

he taps into that athletic stamina, fucking into you with a newfound vigour that you didn’t think was humanly possible, and you feel things that you didn’t even know you could feasibly feel. you see stars behind your eyes, his face, and nothing else but bright white. calloused fingers find your clit, and you wonder fleetingly if he’s trying to kill you when he rubs messy shapes into the much too overstimulated bud. his teeth graze your nipple, and everything seems to come together perfectly.

thick tears run hot down your cheeks, only to be licked away by eager tongue. your belly tightens, aflame for him; he’s wound your body up perfectly and you’ve never in your life teetered so dangerously over the edge.

“can feel you, baby. want you to cum, okay? ‘n then i’m gonna fill you up.” oscar grunts. you clamp down on him even tighter, thanking god for oscar’s filthy fucking mouth and birth control, and then everything snaps.

you think you scream, you know that you’re sobbing, and your throat is raw when the wave hits. oscar keeps going, intensifying your pleasure, and when he finally let’s go, it’s the most beautiful fucking thing you’ve ever seen. it’s surreal, the way his neck flexes, eyes clenched tight, brown locks flopping over his sweat damped forehead. and the sounds he makes, god. he’s muttering into your ear, lewd and shameless, and a fifth orgasm nearly takes you under.

“gonna need you everyday like this, tight fucking pussy, all mine. can’t live without this now. fucking perfect.” he’s rambling, burrowing deep into you one last time. you feel his warmth spilling into you, feel his hot breath fanning your face. he licks into your awaiting mouth.

“fuck.” you giggle, breathless.

“good?” he raises an eyebrow, grinning bashfully.

“more than worth the wait.” you whisper, mustering the strength to lift your head just enough so that you can peck his lips. “you better not hold out on me ever again though.” oscar laughs at that and you feel the rumble in your flushed chest.

“you promise?” there’s the shy guy again.

“osc, honey, that was the best. ever. ever. need you to be mr sex god more often.”

“only if you behave for me.” he smirks down at you.

“there he is.” you sigh happily.

when he snakes his way back between your legs, lapping up the mess he’s made, and then some, you wonder just what you’ve unleashed.

whoops? lol

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789

(run outta space on my taglist lol, lemme know if u wanna be added or removed)

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frickingnerd · 2 years ago

Text

RWBY Masterlist

➤ Team RWBY

➤ Team JNPR

➤ Students

➤ Adults

➤ Villains

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thatanimewriter · 3 months ago

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Oscar pine,Edelguard x female!reader who has same personality as Penny from pokemon

slay, thanks for the request!

#thatanimeanswers #rwby #oscar pine #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #edelgard von hresvelg #rwby x reader #oscar pine x reader #fire emblem three houses x reader #fe3h x reader #edelgard von hresvelg x reader #rwby imagines #oscar pine imagines #fire emblem three houses imagines #fe3h imagines #edelgard von hresvelg imagines

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tsunodaradio · 3 days ago

Text

the summer you turned pretty ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒 & 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏

the story of you, mclaren’s golden boys, and the summer that changes everything.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x mclaren marketing admin!reader x oscar piastri. ꔮ word count: 12.2k. ꔮ includes: romance, humor, friendship. mentions of food, alcohol; profanity. slight time skip (set in 2027), tension tension tensionnn!!!, not really a love triangle, loosely based off the summer i turned pretty where oscar is conrad and lando is jeremiah. ꔮ commentary box: yeah.., yeah. this is a thing, i guess. much thanks to @binisainz and @norrisradio for watching me spiral over this. consider this a warm-up for the challengers au 🙂‍↕️ 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

There’s something about the air this time around.

You feel it the second you step out of the van, your trainers hitting the gravel with a muted crunch. A breeze ruffles the hem of your McLaren-issued shorts, sticky with sweat from the long drive, and you breathe it in. Salt, pine, heat radiating off the tarmac like a living thing.

It’s the fourth time you’ve made this pilgrimage, the fourth summer you’ve found yourself somewhere off-grid with the team. Official cameras conveniently ‘forget’ to roll. Every work email is answered with a flip-flopped foot and a cocktail in hand.

Life at McLaren never really started until you survived the off-season getaway.

Everyone knew it. No one said it out loud.

The rented-out summer home sprawls out in front of you, all whitewashed stone and terracotta roof tiles, perched high above an aquamarine stretch of water so clear it looks Photoshopped. A few bright towels already cling to the poolside chairs; someone’s left a trail of sandy flip-flops like breadcrumbs. You can hear laughter somewhere—muffled, distant, a memory you haven’t made yet.

The whole place hums under the weight of something not quite visible. A static charge. A warning shot fired low across the bow.

Oscar had won the 2026 World Drivers’ Championship, wrestling the 2025 crown from Lando in a way that was almost surgical. No drama, no big public blowout. Just a clean, clinical dethroning that had stunned the paddock stupid.

But it wasn’t clean. Not really. You’d seen the cracks up close. The stiff smiles. The way Lando’s jaw would tick when Oscar’s name got thrown around in meetings. The brittle way Oscar would pretend not to notice.

Now, with both their contracts coming up and the whole world speculating if McLaren could even keep them both, the air buzzes with something volatile. Not anger, exactly. Not yet. Just—

“You coming or what?” a voice calls out, snapping you out of your reverie. You turn to see Callum from logistics waving you in, already wearing a sleeveless tee and a grin that promises poor life decisions.

You wave back, laughing under your breath. Whatever. Let the future burn itself down later.

Right now, you’ve got one week. One week to drink bad beer by the pool, to dance barefoot to someone’s crackling Bluetooth speaker, to pretend that you’re just a marketing admin on holiday and not someone who spends their life airbrushing tensions away with pastel graphics and PR spins.

One week before everything changes.

You’re going to enjoy the hell out of it.

Except you don't even make it to the front steps before they find you.

Lando’s laugh cuts through the air first. Unmistakable, that full kind of sound that’s always gotten him exactly what he wanted. He strides across the gravel with a beer in hand, sunglasses perched low on his nose. Tan already sunk into his skin like he belongs here more than anywhere else.

Oscar is a step behind him, hands shoved into the pockets of his board shorts, mouth pulled into that familiar half-smile that never quite gives away what he’s thinking. Cool. Untouchable. But not when it comes to you.

You’ve known them both since 2023. Started the same year as Oscar, actually, back when he was still the ‘new kid’ and Lando was the anointed heir of McLaren. Watching them now, it’s almost funny how much and how little has changed.

“Well, well, well,” Lando drawls, his gaze raking down the length of you without a shred of shame. “Someone’s been hitting the gym.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat crawling up your neck betrays you. Typical. Lando always wielded charm like a blunt weapon. Flirt first, apologize later—if at all.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shoot back, crossing your arms to fend off the fluster you feel prickling your skin.

“You should.” His grin turns a little wolfish, a little sharper at the edges. It’s always been like this with Lando. Sharp banter, quick jabs, a constant underlying dare in his words.

Oscar, on the other hand, doesn’t say anything. He just glances at you, quick, his gaze flickering over the obvious changes. The toned arms, the tighter shorts, the way you stand a little differently now, more sure of yourself. It’s the sun you’ve caught over the spring, the way your hair is lighter. The confidence, fitting you a little easier now.

“Ignore him,” Oscar says finally, voice dry as ever. “He thinks a compliment a day keeps HR away.”

Lando snickers, entirely unbothered. “No one’s filing any complaints.”

“Yet,” Oscar adds under his breath, and you catch the twitch of a real smile before he looks away, as if he’s embarrassed to be caught being funny.

The dynamic between them is sharper this year, the edges harder to ignore. Lando’s a little too loud; Oscar’s a little too careful. And you, well—

You shoulder your bag higher. Whatever storm is brewing, it’s not here yet.

When Lando is pulled away by another group, you find yourself next to Oscar, the two of you naturally falling into step. “He’s subtle, huh?” you say, nodding toward where Lando is already readying to play a match of beach volleyball.

Oscar snorts. “As a brick through a window.”

Your laughter comes easier with him. No games, no showmanship. Just the same effortless back-and-forth you’ve had since you both joined McLare. Young, new, a little out of your depths. You’ve grown alongside each other in different ways, but the familiarity remains.

“You look good, by the way,” Oscar says after a beat, almost too casual.

You glance at him, but he’s already looking away. “Thanks, Piastri,” you say, nudging his elbow lightly. “Big year for compliments, huh?”

He hums noncommittally, a ghost of a smile pulling at his mouth. His expression doesn’t shift, but there’s something in his eyes. Something that makes you feel seen in a way that’s infinitely more dangerous than Lando’s brand of unashamed attention.

Voices call your names from across the courtyard. A group from the marketing team waves you over, already laying claim to beach chairs and plotting the evening’s games.

“Duty calls,” you say with a mock salute.

Oscar lifts a hand in farewell. “See you.”

The first few hours are a whirlwind of people claiming rooms, of staff trading sunblock and shots and secrets. By the time it’s evening, the beach air is thick with the scent of salt, laughter bouncing between bodies huddled in threadbare hoodies and board shorts. Someone passes a bottle of cheap rum around. Someone else suggests Truth or Dare, and against your better judgment, you let yourself be roped in.

You’re perched on a faded picnic blanket with a handful of your favorite coworkers. Marketing assistants, junior engineers, a couple of race strategy interns. A makeshift family built over late nights and endless deadlines.

“Alright, you,” Tom from engineering says, pointing at you with a grin. His cheeks are already flushed from the booze. “Truth: which of our two golden boys is more crush-worthy?”

A chorus of oohs rises from the circle. You groan, tossing a handful of sand in Tom's general direction. “What are we, twelve?”

“Come on! You have to answer.”

You make a show of rolling your eyes, sighing dramatically as if it’s the most inconvenient question in the world. Still, your heart skips a beat. You know there’s only ever been one answer.

“Oscar,” you say finally, shrugging like it doesn't cost you anything. “It’s always been Oscar.”

The teasing jeers come quick, but you just grin and take a swig from the bottle when it’s passed your way. It’s easier to laugh it off than to sink into the memories unspooling quietly in your mind.

You think about your first day at McLaren. You’d both been rookies, wide-eyed and trying not to drown in a sea of expectation. Oscar had been fresh off his earlier championships. This quiet, determined presence in a world built for louder voices. You had locked eyes across the cafeteria once, both awkwardly holding trays of uninspiring food, and he’d given you a small, tentative smile.

It hadn’t been fireworks. It hadn’t been some earth-shattering moment you could write a novel about. It had been something smaller, quieter. A seed planted in good soil.

Over the years, you’d watched him grow into himself. Sharper on track, still dry-humored and steady off it. Always polite. Always a little reserved. And always, somehow, softer towards you.

You were no fool, though. You never once mistook kindness for something more. You knew what your place was. A marketing admin, barely visible on race weekends unless a driver needed to be somewhere for a shoot. You’d been content to stay in your lane, to admire him like you admired the sunsets over the paddock, or the roar of the engines on a Sunday afternoon.

Beautiful things. Distant things.

If Oscar was nicer to you than he was to others, you chalked it up to that shared sentiment. You were both once the least important people in the room, both standing on the shaky ground of McLaren’s legacy, and rookies tended to stick together.

Someone nudges you, laughing, and you shake yourself out of it, laughing along. The night spins onward, bright and blurry. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up with sand in your hair and regret in your bones.

But for now, you pass the bottle to the left, and let the fire warm your skin.

The next morning is slow and heavy, the sun just starting to burn off the early haze. You’re pulling your hair into a loose ponytail, half-listening to chatter around the shared bathroom when Mia from digital points her toothbrush at you and says, “You know he’s been checking you out, right?”

“Who?”

Mia rolls her eyes dramatically, toothpaste foam threatening to spill. She jerks her chin toward the open doorway. “Norris.”

Curious and a little dubious, you step out into the hall. Sure enough, there he is, leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping from a mug. His gaze finds yours immediately, unapologetically. When he notices you catching him, his mouth quirks into a slow, confident grin.

“Morning,” he calls.

“Morning,” you reply as casually as you can manage.

He sets down his mug. “Fancy a run?”

You hesitate, glancing around for signs of anyone else. Usually, the drivers corral a whole group when they go on these runs. But there’s no one hovering by the door with sneakers in hand. It’s just Lando, looking infuriatingly fresh and ready.

“Sure,” you say before you can overthink it. He grins, and it’s the same sort of smile he has when he’s standing on the top step of the podium.

You lace up your trainers quickly and meet him outside. The air is cooler by the beach, the ocean stretching out endlessly beside you. You jog in an easy rhythm, sand crunching faintly under your feet. It’s quiet for a while. Just the waves and the distant call of gulls.

“You look different this summer,” Lando says after a stretch of silence. His voice is low, almost thoughtful.

You laugh breathlessly. “Bad different or good different?”

“Good. Very good,” he says with a lopsided smile. “More... sure of yourself.”

The compliment lands oddly heavy in your chest. “Maybe I’m just better at pretending now.”

He shoots you a sideways glance, sharp and knowing. “Or maybe you’re better at being who you are.”

The words catch you off-guard, more meaningful than the easy flirtations you’d expected. For a while, neither of you speak. You just run, side by side, until the sun climbs higher and the morning grows warmer.

It’s always been a little different with Lando. He was the occasional headache of the marketing team, the one that warranted one or two more PR releases than Oscar. Off the track, though, you were always pleasantly surprised at who Lando could be underneath the orange race suit.

He was the thoughtful kind, the type to know everybody’s birthdays and to stop for any kid asking for an autograph. He never minced words, but he was not unkind, either. He just felt everything deeply, whether it was a loss, or a win, or the sentiment of an unassuming summer day.

When you finally loop back toward the house, your skin is sticky with sweat and your mind is spinning. Lando bumps his shoulder lightly against yours as you walk up the porch steps.

“Good run,” he says, like it means something more.

You nod, pretending your heartbeat is only from the exercise.

Inside, the house is waking up properly now. Music playing, laughter bouncing. You disappear into the crowd, feeling Lando’s eyes on your back the whole way, and wondering, not for the last time that day, what the hell just happened.

You try not to think of it during the day. You focus on the team exercises, the planning, the downtime. You count down the seconds until your favorite parts of these summers: the bonfires in the evening.

Lanterns swing lazily from the wooden beams overhead, casting a dappled light over the courtyard where most of the team has gathered. It’s bright and loud, and it reminds you of why you continue to stay despite the shitty management and the questionable policies. The people here are good people.

Lando shimmers in the center of it all. He’s a social butterfly, fluttering from interns to old-timers with small talk that makes you feel special for a few, precious moments. What endears you the most is that you know he’s not putting on a show. Lando likes the team, likes the beach and the woodsmoke and the invincibility of these moments away from the public eye.

You feel like something’s missing, though. You wander off in search of that puzzle piece, and that’s when you spot him.

Oscar, tucked away by the side of the house, half-shielded by the drooping branches of a tree. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his posture hunched as he scrolls through his phone. You smile to yourself.

“Hiding, are we?” you call out, keeping your voice light.

Oscar doesn’t start. He just glances at you, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. “Strategic retreat.”

You chuckle and wander closer, careful not to intrude too much. “Fair. You lasted longer than I thought you would,” you sya.

“Peer pressure’s a powerful thing.”

“I’ll leave you to it. Just thought I’d come say ‘hi’ before you went full hermit.”

You’re about to wander back off to the beach when Oscar says in an uncharacteristic rush of words, “You don’t have to go.”

You freeze for a beat. When you look over, Oscar’s already looking at you—steady, earnest, like he actually means it.

“If you want,” he adds, more casually now. As if he’s giving you an out instead.

Your heart does that stupid thing it always does around him. A warm stutter you can never quite control. You move closer, sitting down a comfortable distance away. Close enough to talk, far enough not to spook the moment.

You don’t say much. You don’t need to.

The night hums around you and between it all, a quiet little space you carve out with Oscar, just the two of you. You wonder, not for the first time, if he feels it too. The anticipation when the amps turn on. The thick tension.

It’s not something you’re willing to stake your friendship over, so you let the moment pass as many others before it. By the time the two of you are heading back to the throng, you’re only reminded of where you belong in the complex hierarchy of co-worker friendships.

The next morning, the sun is high and hot by the time everyone spills out onto the open field just beyond the house. There’s a haphazard setup of cones, makeshift goals, and a suspicious number of foam batons.

Classic team-building chaos.

Brian from HR claps his hands together. “Alright! Lando, Oscar, you know the drill.”

There's a collective hum of excitement as people start gathering behind them, ready to be picked. You hang back, adjusting the hem of your shorts and shielding your eyes from the sun. It’s almost a tradition at this point: drivers lead, employees follow, and everyone ends up in some over-competitive version of capture-the-flag or ultimate frisbee.

Lando and Oscar stand a few feet apart, each looking unfairly good in their McLaren-branded athletic gear.

“Ladies first,” Lando says with a smirk, tossing a foam baton into the air and catching it with a little spin. “Pick whoever you want, mate.”

Oscar just gives him a bemused look. “You’re only saying that because you want to steal half my picks.”

“It’s called strategy,” Lando replies smoothly, tapping his temple. “That’s why I'm the smart one.”

Oscar snorts, but then his eyes flick to you—brief, almost imperceptible if you weren’t looking.

You feel it more than you see it: the way the energy subtly shifts. The people around you start elbowing each other, stifling laughs. There’s no hiding it now. You’re not the most athletic, not really the kind of member who brings in the winning shot, but you’re close enough to both drivers for this squirmish to become an annual thing.

“I’ll take—” Oscar starts, but Lando cuts in.

“Nope. Mine.”

A ripple of amusement runs through the group. Someone whistles. You cross your arms, eyebrows raised in mock affront.

Oscar’s mouth twitches at the corner, betraying the tiniest smile. “That’s not how this works. You let me pick first.”

“Rock, Paper, Scissors for her?” Lando says cheekily, already raising his hand into position.

I’m right here, you’re tempted to tease, but you’re already red-faced from their attempts to stake claim. Oscar sighs like Lando is the greatest burden on earth. He humors him anyway.

They square up. A few of the engineers start chanting under their breath: “Rock, paper, scissors! Rock, paper, scissors!”

They throw once.

Lando’s scissors against Oscar’s rock.

A loud cheer goes up. Lando groans theatrically, dragging his hands down his face.

“Fine,” Lando grumbles, shooting you half a smirk. “But just know, you’re missing out on being on the winning team.”

You laugh, falling into step next to Oscar as the rest of the group starts getting sorted out.

“Don’t let him fool you,” you tease under your breath. “You’re the only reason this team has a chance.”

Oscar flashes you a look. One warm enough to melt every rational thought right out of your sun-drenched head.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Wouldn't want to win without you anyway.”

You’re still brushing sand from your hands as the games kick off, a whole series of activities spread across the beach: tug-of-war, three-legged races, trivia relays. The energy is infectious, easy to get swept into, almost enough to make you forget about the heavy things hanging in the background—the contracts, the titles, the unspoken rivalries.

Oscar is relentless. Competitive in a way that most people wouldn't expect if they only ever saw his calm interviews. It’s an open secret, just how intense Oscar could get when it came to things like these.

His team moves like a machine, coordinated and precise, while Lando’s team operates with chaotic enthusiasm, making up for what they lack in organization with sheer willpower and noise.

You’re laughing as you hurl yourself into a sack for the next race, the sand hot and uneven under your feet. The world tips violently when you stumble, crashing face-first into the beach. Grit fills your mouth, your skin stings.

When you push yourself upright, coughing, Oscar is already tossing a snide comment over his shoulder: “Maybe stick to admin work.”

It lands harder than it should.

Maybe because it’s him. Maybe because it’s been four years of pretending you didn’t really care what Oscar thought of you. The sting rises up quicker than you can shove it down, and it only worsens when you notice Lando’s sharp gaze.

“Mate,” Lando snipes, breaking from his own team to glare at Oscar. “Bit harsh, don’t you think?”

Oscar hesitates, like he realizes it a second too late, but someone calls for the next round and the moment fractures before it can settle into anything more. You paste a smile on your face and dive back into the games like nothing happened.

Like you didn’t just realize that no matter how long you stayed at McLaren, some things might always hurt a little more than they should.

The games end in a tangle of cheers and whoops, Oscar’s team carrying their homemade ‘trophy’—an old beach umbrella someone had scrawled CHAMPIONS across with an orange Sharpie. The sun dips lower, bleeding oranges and reds across the sky, painting everyone in a warm, careless glow. Music drifts the easy beat of a summer song nobody will remember by winter.

You’re crouched at the edge of it all, nursing a plastic cup of water in a bid to fill the hollow feeling buzzing under your ribs. Oscar is somewhere in the throng, a grin splitting his face. He’s pulled into photos, hands slung over shoulders, the weight of his careless comment seemingly long gone from his mind.

You’re fine. You swear you are.

It’s stupid to let it fester, stupid to feel the prickle of tears when you’ve fought so hard to be seen as part of this team, not just the girl who sends calendar invites and films content.

You want to believe that Oscar hadn’t meant to be cruel, that it’d been adrenaline-fueled trash talk. That the remark wasn’t some thought that’s been on the back of his mind for years now, just waiting for a moment to come to head.

God, what does it say about you that you’re the one hurt, and you’re still making excuses for Oscar?

You’re contemplating how soon you can sneak back to the house without making it obvious when Lando drops down beside you, kicking up a puff of sand.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, easy. The kind of ‘hey’ that slips into the cracks you've been trying to mortar over all afternoon.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Lando notices. Of course he does.

“You’re shit at hiding it, you know,” he adds, nudging your elbow with his.

You huff out a laugh, more breath than sound. “I’m fine.”

He doesn't say anything right away. Just picks at a piece of driftwood half-buried in the sand, giving you enough space to either lie again or actually talk.

The silence stretches, not uncomfortable, but patient. The sky darkens a little more. The ocean breathes in and out.

“You were killing it out there,” Lando offers eventually. “Seriously. You’ve got, like, a mean sack race face.”

A real laugh slips out this time, unguarded, and Lando grins that I-finished-P1 smile again.

“I just…” You dig your toes into the sand. “Sometimes it feels like I’m never going to be… y’know. Actually one of you.”

Lando frowns, properly frowns, like the idea physically pains him. “That’s bull.”

“Tell that to Oscar.”

“Oscar’s a dick sometimes. We all are. Doesn’t mean we don’t see you. Doesn’t mean you don’t matter.”

It’s said so simply, so plainly, that for a second you don’t know what to do with it.

“You’re McLaren,” Lando insists, nudging you again. Gentler this time. “Always have been.”

Your throat burns. You blink hard at the horizon, refusing to cry over something as stupid as a sack race, and a throwaway comment, and Lando Norris’ sincerity.

Lando stands, brushing the sand from his shorts, and holds out a hand.

“C’mon,” he says. “Bonfire’s starting. I’ll get you the good marshmallows.”

You let him pull you to your feet, the weight in your chest easing just a little. Maybe not everything was perfect. Maybe not everyone saw you the way you wanted. But right now, Lando did.

It’s enough.

The bonfire spits and crackles as the night sinks deeper, a hundred tiny embers dancing into the dark. Someone’s switched the playlist to slower songs, the kind you know all the words to without trying.

Lando sticks by you the entire evening.

Making sure you get the first roasted marshmallow. Shoving his hoodie at you when the breeze picks up. Sitting close enough that your knees bump sometimes, casual but intentional. It’s as if he’s decided that tonight, you are his responsibility, and he’s damn well going to make sure you feel wanted.

You don’t care if it’s pity. You let him. You let yourself take all of it, because Oscar’s comment had been a papercut in the thick skin you’d built over the years. Lando soothes it, whether or not he’s aware.

Across the fire, Oscar laughs at something one of the mechanics says, but you can feel it—the way his gaze finds you when he thinks you’re not looking. The way it sticks, hot and restless.

You force yourself to ignore it. You’re not going to cause a scene. Not here. Not now. Not after everything.

You’re practically sleepwalking by the time you make it back to your room, the party still humming faintly through the walls. You peel off your clothes and collapse onto the bed in Lando’s hoodie, the scent of fire and salt clinging to your skin.

You’re just about to drift off when your phone buzzes against the nightstand. Your lockscreen—a photo of the most recent McLaren 1-2 finish—lights up with a text.

O. Piastri 🥐🐨 [2:03 AM]: You up?

You stare at it, your heart kicking once, stupid and traitorous. You think about ignoring it.

You don’t.

You [2:05 AM]: barely

The typing dots pop up immediately.

Disappear.

Pop up again.

O. Piastri 🥐🐨 [2:06 AM]: About earlier

You bite your lip hard enough to sting.

You [2:07 AM]: it’s fine

It’s not. You both know it.

Another pause.

O. Piastri 🥐🐨 [2:09 AM]: It’s not

You sigh into your pillow, the ache behind your eyes starting to burn.

You [2:10 AM]: i don’t want to do this over text

The response comes faster this time.

O. Piastri 🥐🐨 [2:10 AM]: Can we talk tomorrow morning?

You hesitate. The safe thing would be to say no. To let it slide, bury it under the sand and sun and pretend none of it mattered.

But you’re tired of pretending.

You [2:11 AM]: yeah. ok.

Oscar doesn’t reply after that. Your screen goes dark.

You roll onto your side, pulling the hoodie tighter around yourself, and finally, finally let sleep take you under.

The next morning, you’d been half-hoping Oscar would forget the plan from the night before—pretend it was just another drunken text with no follow-up—but no. He texts about getting breakfast for everybody else; you wait on the porch, your hands shoved in Lando’s hoodie as you groggily wonder why the hell you agreed to this.

Oscar emerges moments later, cap pulled low, shirt wrinkled, looking like he hates everything about being awake before noon.

“Nice hoodie,” he says, deadpan, barely glancing at you as he shoulders past you and heads towards the direction of the nearest bakery.

You snort, following him into the fresh sting of morning air. “Sorry, didn’t realize there was a dress code for pastry runs.”

“Well, I didn’t realize Lando was your stylist now.”

“And I didn’t realize you cared.”

Oscar cuts a look at you, the edge of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smirk or a grimace. It's hard to tell with him sometimes. “I don’t,” he says way too fast.

You bump your shoulder against his as you cross the street. “You’re being weird about this.”

“I’m not being weird,” Oscar mutters, jaw tight. “I’m…” He trails off, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. “Shit, I’m going about this all wrong.”

You blink at him, mid-step. “About what?”

“Forget it.”

The bakery is tucked into a corner of the sleepy town, all blue awnings and window boxes bursting with flowers. A little bell jingles when you push the door open, the smell of fresh bread and sugar wrapping around you like a hug.

Oscar heads straight for the counter, scanning the rows of pastries with a frown like he’s plotting a strategy. You trail after him, trying not to feel weirdly self-conscious about the hoodie swallowing your frame.

For some reason, both your claws are out. You point out the doughnuts and Oscar makes some snide comment about cavities. He surveys the croissants and you mumble about his predictability. You feel it, then, what he had said earlier. On going about this all wrong.

You’re convinced the two of you are one sarcastic comment away from a physical altercation when a comment stops you both in your tracks. “You two remind me of my wife and me,” the elderly baker says cheerfully, wiping his hands on a flour-dusted apron as he rings your orders up.

You almost choke. “Oh, we’re not—”

“—Not like that,” Oscar says at the same time, voice a little too sharp.

The baker chuckles, clearly not convinced, and hands over the bags stuffed with pastries. Oscar wordlessly pulls out his wallet, shoving a tip into the jar. Way more than necessary.

You raise an eyebrow as you step outside. “Generous.”

“Guilt tax,” Oscar mutters.

You open your mouth to poke at that—because honestly, it’s too easy—but then you catch the look on his face. Not exactly regretful. More like… determined. Stubborn. That same look he gets right before a race starts when he’s locked in.

For the first time all morning, you wonder if maybe you’re not the only one trying to pretend things don't matter as much as they do.

The walk back to the beach house is quiet, the smell of warm bread thick between you. Just as the house comes back into view, Oscar clears his throat.

“Hey,” he says, his voice lower, realer. “About yesterday. The team games.”

You pause.

“I was a dick. I’m sorry,” he says.

You glance over. Oscar’s staring straight ahead, knuckles white on the brown paper bag of doughnuts. The one he’d bitched about but still got.

You let a beat pass. Then: “I accept your apology, But,” you add, grinning, “I’m still gonna tease you forever about getting weird over Lando’s hoodie.”

He lets out a groan of pure suffering. “I wasn’t being weird.”

“You know,” you say, voice casual, “if it’s that big a deal, I wouldn’t mind wearing one of yours.”

You don’t wait for his reaction. You head towards the house, pastries in tow, leaving Oscar spluttering behind you.

It’s an exhilarating feeling, you realize. You haven’t flirted with Oscar the same way you do with Lando, out of fear that you would simply keel over and give up at first sight of the Australian’s blush. But it’s easier than you thought, and nothing amuses you more than the reddened tips of Oscar’s ears when he comes in after you.

After breakfast, you retreat upstairs for some air. You open your door and stop short.

Sitting neatly on your bed is a hoodie. Folded almost too carefully, like he wasn’t sure if he should leave it at all.

On top, a scrap of paper, the ink a little smudged:

Keep your word. — o.p.

Just like that, he’s back to having that one-up on you.

You hastily pull off Lando’s hoodie and tug on Oscar’s without thinking. The sleeves swallow your hands; the fabric is warm in a recently-got-ironed kind of way, and it smells faintly of soap and sunscreen.

Is it too late to keel over?

The pool gleams under the sun, finally coaxed into full operation after a solid day of half the team fighting with buttons and levers. Someone’s pulled out a portable sound mixer. Someone else has brought out mocktails. The air buzzes with a rare, lazy kind of joy.

You’re sitting on a deck chair, wrapped up in Oscar’s hoodie, sipping something neon pink through a straw. Honestly, it’s too warm to be in a hoodie, but you’ll be damned to not ‘keep your word’. Besides, the knowing smile that Oscar tries to fight is worth the sweat on your back.

One of your co-workers, Chloe, plops down next to you.

“This is not very hot girl summer of you,” she whines, tugging at Oscar’s hoodie like a child.

You wrinkle your nose. “It’s a perfectly fine hoodie, Chlo.”

“You know what would be even more fine? The bikini sitting at the bottom of your suitcase.”

“Did you rummage through—”

“Tomato, tomato. Put on the damn swimsuit you bought specifically for this trip!” Chloe punctuates the threat with a pointed look. The kind that says, Don’t make me drag you. You have no doubts she’d do it, too, so you set down your drink with a groan of dramatic reluctance.

“If I get sunburnt, I’m blaming you,” you grumble as she cheers and practically shoves you back into the house.

In your room, you peel off the hoodie and shorts before swapping them for the bikini—a simple black two-piece that suddenly feels much more revealing now that you actually have to walk back out in it.

The chatter quiets a fraction when you step out. Not dramatically, but enough that you notice. Enough that Lando’s eyebrows climb a little higher than normal. Even Oscar’s head turns, his lips parting slightly in what might be surprise if he wasn’t quick enough in hiding it.

“Finally decided to join the rest of us mortals,” Lando crows, tossing a beach ball between his hands. “Looking good, admin.”

You roll your eyes but can’t quite fight the smile tugging at your mouth. Before you can even think about easing into the pool like a normal person, Lando and Oscar exchange a look. A look you recognize all too late.

“Don’t you dare—” you’re starting, but it doesn’t matter.

Too late.

Lando goes low, grabbing you by the ankles. Oscar effortlessly hauls you up with strong arms through your middle. You’re swung around a bit for good measure, and then you’re airborne for half a heartbeat before crashing into the pool with a splash.

The water is warm from the sun, but it still shocks the breath out of you. You surface, sputtering, as Lando and Oscar double over with laughter. Everyone else watches on with the same amusement, knowing the boys’ tendencies for mischief when they were in a particular mood.

“You absolute menaces,” you declare, wiping water from your face. “I think I twisted my ankle, man.”

Oscar’s laughter cuts off instantly. “Wait, seriously?” His brow furrows, and before you can blink, he’s crouched at the edge of the pool, leaning down to get a closer look.

“Which one?” he asks, already reaching to haul you out.

You grab his outstretched hand and yank.

Oscar yelps—an actual, undignified yelp—as you drag him headfirst into the water beside you.

He resurfaces, blinking water from his lashes, completely betrayed. “You—”

You’re already laughing, kicking away from him.

“That’s for the sack race comment!” you crow, paddling backward.

He shakes his head, grinning despite himself. “I thought we were past that,” he calls out, splashing water in your eyes. You retaliate before attempting to dart away.

The afternoon blurs into sun-drenched chaos. People drift in and out of the pool, mock battles and splash wars springing up as naturally as breathing. The laughter is loud, the water warm, and for a while, everything feels suspended, easy.

Mid-afternoon, someone shouts “Chicken fight!” and it's immediately game on. Chloe clambers onto Oscar’s shoulders without hesitation, while you tread water nearby, laughing at the whole ridiculousness of it.

Before you can react, strong hands wrap around your waist.

“My turn, love,” Lando announces triumphantly, already hoisting you up onto his shoulders. “You were on Oscar’s team last time. You’re mine now.”

You squeal, half from shock, half from trying to stay balanced as Lando’s hands steady you by your thighs. Your heart stumbles a little. His grip is firm, his fingers warm and sure against the hem of your bikini bottoms.

You catch Oscar looking at you from below Chloe, his gaze a little too intense for something as stupid as a pool game. Your stomach flips uneasily.

Focus, you tell yourself. This is supposed to be fun.

It’s fun to have Chloe lunge at you, her giggles bright as she sinks her nails into your sunburnt shoulders. It’s fun to have Lando moving underneath you, shouting up reassurances like get her and that’s my girl. It’s fun to feel Oscar watching your every move, and not because he’s strategizing.

You thread your fingers through Lando’s hair as Chloe tries to push you backward. Lando’s hands shift slightly higher on your thighs, nearly underneath your bikini. Maybe by accident, maybe not. You feel the difference immediately. An inch more of skin under his touch, a flash of heat that makes your breath catch.

You’re still trying to process that when, all of a sudden, Lando jerks underneath you with a loud “Oof!” and sinks halfway underwater.

Chloe shrieks in laughter, nearly tumbling off Oscar.

You slide off Lando’s shoulders in the commotion, landing back in the water with a splash. As you surface, you catch a glimpse of Oscar, looking absolutely unapologetic as he pulls back his leg.

Lando pops up a moment later. He’s wheezing, his hands clasped over his swim shorts. “What the hell, Osc!” he rasps, the sound punched out of him after being ungraciously kneed in the groin.

Oscar shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Slipped.”

You cough out a laugh, half in disbelief. Chloe floats past you, cackling.

Lando glares at Oscar, but that eventually cracks into a grin. “C’mere, you,” the Brit coos, lunging for his co-driver. Before his head can be shoved down, Oscar throws you a wink—quick, private.

Your cheeks burn hotter than the sun overhead, and you duck underwater before anyone can comment on it.

That day’s dinner stretches into the warm evening, the long table lined with empty plates, half-drunk glasses of wine, and the low hum of conversation. The sun dips lower, casting everything in a syrupy, forgiving glow. It feels almost perfect, if not for the gnawing restlessness you can’t quite name.

For once, neither Lando nor Oscar are by your side.

Lando leans back in his chair, laughing at something one of the engineers says, his fingers curled around a sweating can of soda. Oscar is farther down the table, deep in a serious discussion with one of the strategists, his brow furrowed in that familiar, endearing way.

You’re free to breathe, to think. It’s then that the reality of the summer settles in, heavy and unrelenting.

Everyone’s been talking about it in hushed tones when they think the drivers aren’t listening.

Will Lando stay with McLaren? After years of loyalty, of being the heart and soul of the team, will he finally walk away for a shot at something different, something better?

And Oscar—Oscar, who’s no longer just the promising rookie but the reigning World Champion—faces the brutal weight of defending everything he’s fought for. Will he make it? Will he relent, or will he be something greater than what was expected of him?

You can feel it thrumming under every casual exchange, every shared joke. The quiet tug-of-war. The clash of futures neither of them are quite ready to admit they want different things from.

And yet, somehow, it’s you who feels pulled taut between them.

Lando catches your eye across the table and winks. Easy, breezy, the same way he always has. He makes it seem as if there’s nothing complicated about any of this.

Almost immediately after, Oscar glances up from his conversation and smiles at you. Soft and crooked, like you’re the one safe thing in a world that’s otherwise slipping sideways.

Your chest tightens.

You’re caught, but you don't even know what in. Caught between loyalty and ambition. Between the comfort of what’s always been and the thrill, the fear, of what might change. Between two boys who are friends, rivals, teammates and something else you’re not sure you want to name.

You pick at your food, your appetite long gone, and wonder when exactly this summer stopped feeling endless and started feeling like a ticking clock.

The summer heat is clinging to everything. It’s the kind that demands you do something, anything before you’re swallowed whole.

Plans start to splinter over breakfast.

“Surf’s up,” Oscar says, tossing a board into the back of one of the jeeps. The sun catches in his hair, making him look unfairly effortless. “Who’s in?”

“Or,” Lando calls out from the kitchen, a trail of crumbs following his words, “we could do something that doesn’t involve dying under a wave. There’s a sick hiking trail up the cliffs. Views are unreal.”

There’s a beat, and then the divide begins. Some of the team flock toward Oscar, lured by the thrill of the ocean; others gravitate to Lando, drawn to the promise of a rugged adventure.

You stand in the middle, heart hammering a little too hard for something that’s supposed to be casual. Supposed to be fun.

It feels like a metaphor you’re not ready to face.

“You’re not coming?” Lando asks, mock-offended, pulling a pout that would be funny if it didn’t make something in your chest ache. “Gonna miss you,” he adds, lighter, teasing.

Oscar, carrying two boards now, smirks over his shoulder. “Guess she’s tired of babysitting you, Lan.”

You force a laugh you don't quite feel. “Maybe I just need a break from both of you.”

They both react predictably. Lando clutches his heart in fake agony, Oscar shakes his head with a quiet chuckle. You don’t wait for more. You duck back into the house, the coolness of the shaded hallway swallowing you up.

For the first time in days, you’re alone.

You wonder if choosing yourself is just another way of choosing at all.

You spend the afternoon alone, and it’s a kind of peace you didn’t realize you needed.

The beach house creaks with the slow, easy rhythm of the ocean breeze. You move from room to room without urgency. Sometimes reading on the porch, sometimes just watching the water glitter beyond the dunes.

By the time the sun starts to slip lower, you hear footsteps, wet and clumsy on the deck. Oscar appears first, his wetsuit peeled down to his waist. Sand dusting his hair and shoulders, water still dripping from his grin.

You laugh despite yourself. “Come here,” you say, the affection leaking into your tone before you can hold it back.

Oscar ambles over, letting you reach up and card your fingers through his messy hair, brushing the sand out with a few playful tugs. His gaze is steady on yours, warm enough that you have to focus on some nondescript point past him to hide the way your face heats.

“Had fun?” you ask for the sake of asking.

He raises his shoulders in a shrug, his eyes never leaving your face. “Could have been more fun,” he says simply, his words loaded with implication you’re not about to confront.

Oscar opens his mouth to say something else—

The door swings open again. Loud. Dramatic.

Lando stumbles in with a theatrical groan, one hand clutching his shin. “Ow. Ow. Pretty sure I’m dying.”

You arch a brow. “You’re so full of it,” you accuse, dropping your hands from Oscar’s hair.

“Seriously,” he insists, dragging himself toward the couch like he’s reenacting the third act of a war movie. “Tragic end to a heroic hike.”

You roll your eyes but motion him over anyway, reaching for the first aid kit you know is stashed under the side table. When Lando props his leg up, you find a scrape. Minor. Nothing to justify the Oscar-worthy performance.

Still, you crouch beside him, carefully dabbing at the cut.

“Big baby,” you mutter.

Lando grins, completely unashamed. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You look up, catching the cheeky glint in his eye. The very obvious satisfaction of having pulled your attention away from Oscar.

You shake your head, biting back a laugh. “Unbelievable.”

Lando snickers. Oscar, toweling off his hair nearby, watches the exchange with a faint shake of his head. A half-smile tugs at his mouth like he can’t even pretend to be annoyed.

You tape a bandage neatly over Lando’s scrape, pretending not to feel the weight of both of their gazes pressing into you from opposite ends of the room.

The bonfire crackles in the pit, casting gold onto every face circled around it. You’re seated between Oscar and Lando—close enough that your knees brush both of theirs. It wasn’t planned. Just the way the night unfolded. Just the way they looked at you when you arrived, and the way neither of them moved an inch as you lowered yourself into the space between.

Lando’s been chatty all evening, but now his voice takes on a teasing edge.

“So,” he says, leaning back on his palms. “You seeing anyone?”

“That’s direct,” you hum, gaze focused on the s’more in front of you that won’t cooperate.

He grins, eyes glinting in the firelight. “I’m just saying. You’ve been dodging the topic for, what, four summers now?”

Oscar shifts beside you. Just barely.

“You always seem very invested in my love life,” you comment, though you can already feel your heart picking up.

“I’m invested in you,” Lando says plainly. “That’s not a crime, is it?”

Oscar lets out a sound that might’ve been a scoff. “Back off, mate.”

The air thins like someone’s turned off the music. Everything goes on around the three of you, but in this little corner of the bonfire, something blaze and burns in a different way.

Lando raises a brow, turning toward Oscar. “What? We’re just talking.”

Oscar doesn’t meet his gaze. “You’re grilling her,” he grunts, shoving his stick into the sand with uncharacteristic force.

“I’m curious.”

“You’re nosy.”

“Okay,” you interject. “Let’s not fight over me like I’m some prize, yeah?”

Lando leans forward, elbows on his knees now, attention swinging back to you. “We’re not fighting.”

Oscar speaks without looking. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You look between them. Their faces both angled toward the fire now, lit in shifting amber tones. There it is again—the live wire of tension crackling between the two of them, beneath Lando’s wicked smirk and Oscar’s bouncing knee.

Except it’s not about racing, now, is it?

Lando taps your knee, snapping you out of your thoughts. “So? Are you?”

You chuckle, deflecting. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Oscar huffs beside you. Lando chuckles.

The laughter and music swell again. But nothing really returns to normal.

It’s an uneasy thought that makes a home in your bones all the way until the next day. The morning sun streams through the sheer curtains, lighting the hallway in a sleepy glow. Your footsteps are slow against the wooden floor as you pad barefoot toward the kitchen, the house quiet save for distant clinks of coffee mugs.

You nearly bump into Oscar rounding the corner. His hair’s a mess, still damp from the shower, and there’s a barely-there smile tugging at his lips.

“Morning,” he greets. “Didn’t think I’d run into you before the chaos starts.”

You frown, still foggy from sleep. “What chaos?”

He blinks, then breaks out into a wider smile. Amused, fond. “You forgot?”

You stare at him, confused, until it hits you.

The annual sand rail race.

Every summer, tucked into the off-season downtime, it’s the one competition that’s just for bragging rights. The leaderboard is even scrawled on a whiteboard in the garage, a running tally of victories and sore losers. So far, it’s 2-2. Lando and Oscar locked in their own personal tie.

Oscar watches the realization dawn on your face. “Right,” you murmur. “Race day.”

“Mm.” He studies you for a beat. “Hey.”

You glance up at him.

“I know you’re not a prize to be won,” he says, voice a little quieter now. “That’s not what this is.”

You nod slowly, watching him. You don’t know where this conversation is going. You’re not sure if you want to know.

“But, uhm…” He trails off, his gaze flicking down to the walls before finding your eyes again. “I hope you’ll be rooting for me.”

The sheer sincerity of it nearly bowls you over. It’s not a command, not an order. It’s a wistful invitation, a shy confession made by a man who typically knew how to ask for anything else. But this was not a weekend off or a car upgrade. Hell, it wasn’t even anything consequential—not a date, not anything like that.

Just for you to root for him. And yet he asks for it as if it’s something that matters, that makes everything do-or-die, and you wish it didn’t affect you as much as it does.

You put on a front. You tilt your head, lips tugging up despite the hammering of your heart underneath your ribs. “That depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you bring me coffee before the race.”

Oscar scoffs. “Bribery. Noted.”

But he’s smiling as he passes you, his shoulder brushing yours. And there’s coffee waiting for you when you get to the kitchen, poured into the mug that Oscar has repeatedly claimed as his.

You sip from it, feeling the weight of the day shift. Something in the air is charged. Not just about the race, but everything teetering around it.

The sand rail track near the house buzzes with energy as the McLaren staff and team trickle in, excitement thrumming in the air. Someone brings a clipboard to track the bets. Within minutes, a frenzy of numbers and names clutters the surface. Playful taunts echo between the team members, each person rooting for either Lando or Oscar with a kind of fervor usually reserved for proper race days.

You slip your own bet into the mix quietly. You don't reveal it when one of the engineers presses you for an answer. You just shake your head and let them assume whatever they want. After all, it feels a little too intimate, too weighted, to share out loud.

When you make your way to the sidelines, Lando catches your eye. His grin is crooked, and he tosses you a flying kiss as he climbs into his sand rail buggy, helmet tucked under his arm. Oscar, a few meters away, adjusts his gloves with practiced ease, the sharp set of his jaw betraying his focus.

The start is as lawless as you would expect from the two of them.

Engines roar to life with a guttural snarl, tires kicking up dry sand as they lurch forward. Lando takes an aggressive line right off the bat, cutting tight against the first corner, his buggy tilting precariously before settling.

Oscar, ever the tactician, plays it smoother. He hangs back just enough to find a cleaner line, aiming for consistency instead of showmanship. His turns are precise, efficient, the kind of calculated risk that usually pays dividends on the track.

But Lando—Lando races like the world might end tomorrow.

His buggy dances across the sand, skimming close to the edge of control. His reckless daring makes your stomach twist with nerves and awe in equal measure.

Lap after lap, they trade the lead in a blur of flying sand and roaring engines. The track isn't long, but it’s rough and unforgiving, peppered with bumps and hairpin turns.

On the final lap, it’s neck and neck. You can feel the tension in the crowd, everyone leaning forward unconsciously, breath held. Money is on the line, sure, but so is pride. And something else, something you’re not ready to admit.

Oscar has the inside line on the last major turn. Lando guns it anyway, swinging wide, almost off-track—only to slingshot past in the final straight with a burst of speed that has everyone screaming.

Lando crosses the makeshift finish line a second ahead of Oscar. He throws his arms up in victory even before the sand settles.

The cheers are deafening.

You clap along with everyone else, and your heart pounds for reasons that have nothing to do with the race itself.

Later, the house is alive with celebration.

The playlist is one of Lando’s favorites, and a cooler filled with drinks appears out of nowhere. Lando is hoisted onto someone’s shoulders for a victory lap around the deck, soaking in the glory. Everyone is loud, laughing, riding the high of a race that felt more like a championship showdown than a friendly bout.

Oscar is nowhere to be seen.

You slip away from the noise, letting the sound of celebration blur into the background. The beach dock stretches out ahead, wooden planks weathered and warm beneath your feet. There, at the edge, Oscar sits with his feet dangling just above the water, his arms braced behind him as he stares out at the horizon.

You wordlessly sit beside him, close but not touching, letting the silence settle for a beat.

“I should’ve had that,” Oscar mutters, his voice low and rough. He doesn't look at you. He’s not usually the type to take unkindly to losses; he’s always the type to make some comment about wanting to finish one place higher whenever he’s P2, but he doesn’t sulk. He doesn’t wallow.

He does tonight. You don’t know why.

“You almost did,” you offer, and Oscar scoffs.

“Almost doesn’t count.”

You pull your legs up, crossing them underneath you. “It’s a bummer,” you concede. “Especially now that I’m fifteen dollars down ‘cause of you.”

That earns a glance. His brows lift, eyes searching your face. “Seriously?”

You nod. “You asked me to bet on you, didn’t you?”

Oscar huffs a laugh, but there’s something soft behind it. His shoulder brushes yours when he shifts.

His gaze drops briefly to your mouth.

It plays out like a movie scene, like something you’d imagined time and time again as some sort of maladaptive daydream. You’re frozen, focused on the way Oscar looks underneath the moonlight. How he shifts imperceptibly closer. How he leans in soundlessly, as if he might scare the moment otherwise.

Your eyes flutter close.

And then—

“CANNONBALL!”

Your eyes snap open just in time. Lando sails over both your heads in a blur of tanned limbs and unchecked chaos, crashing into the water with an explosive splash. Saltwater sprays over you and Oscar, dousing the moment in cold.

You yelp, shielding your face too late, and Oscar jerks back, blinking in disbelief.

Lando resurfaces with a triumphant whoop, grinning brightly. “Did I interrupt something?” he calls, treading water with the ease of someone completely unbothered.

Oscar wipes his face with a groan. “Go to hell, man.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as your heart is still hammering in your chest.

The moment’s gone, but it lingers in the edges, in the way Oscar’s hand almost finds yours again on the dock, in the way you both glance toward the water and then back at each other, unsure of what comes next. Lando, dripping in seawater and drunk on his earlier victory, pulls everybody in for a swim.

You follow, hopeful it will help you forget.

It doesn’t.

The beach house quiets into the low hum of waves and the distant buzz of the crickets outside. Most everyone is asleep or pretending to be. You toss and turn, too wired to drift off, your mind replaying the moment by the dock on a loop: Oscar’s closeness, the soft look in his eyes, the way he leaned in like gravity had decided for the both of you.

Until Lando, in all his chaotic timing, had crashed down from the sky like a rogue asteroid.

Eventually, you give up. You throw on a hoodie—not Oscar’s, not Lando’s, just your own—and pad into the kitchen, the floorboards creaking under your steps. The fridge hums gently in the corner, and you pull out a glass, filling it with water from the tap.

You don’t notice Lando until he speaks.

"Can’t sleep either?"

He’s leaning against the counter, shirtless, a half-eaten packet of biscuits in one hand. His hair’s a mess and there’s a kind of easy, rare quiet around him.

You start, nearly dropping your glass. Squint at Lando through the darkness of the kitchen, you can’t help but hiss, “Why are you just standing there in the dark?”

“I like the dramatic effect.”

“Well, congrats. You scared me.”

He waves a biscuit like a peace offering. “Want one?”

You shake your head, and he shrugs before popping it in his mouth. There’s a moment of silence, the kind that teeters between awkward and intimate. Then Lando tilts his head at you, chewing slowly.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Your lips pull into a frown. “What kind of secret?”

He pushes off the counter and walks over. He doesn’t comment when your eyes flick over to his toned abdomen or his bare shoulders; if anything, the way he leans against the island across you means he wants you to keep looking. “Two secrets, actually,” he says conspiratorially.

You raise your eyebrows, intrigued. In the dark kitchen, you can make out the beginnings of Lando’s toothy smile. He knows he has you hook, line, sinker.

He holds up one finger. “First, I only just realized this summer that you—” He gestures vaguely in your direction, then clears his throat. “You’re actually really pretty. Like, ridiculously. And I don’t know if that’s new or if I’ve just been blind.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I’m serious. Hey, look at me.” His eyes are surprisingly intense as he forces you to hold his gaze, willing it purely through sincerity alone. “You’re attractive. I’m not about to deny that fact just because you don’t want to hear it.”

Your mouth feels dry. Your palms feel clammy. You suddenly wish you’d just slept off your unease.

“Second secret,” he continues, tone shifting. There’s something much more serious, now. Something consequential. “Except you can’t tell a soul. I mean it.”

“Norris, I swear—”

“There’s an email from another team,” Lando divulges, as casually as he might comment on the weather, “burning a hole in my phone.”

There had been whispers, of course. In the paddock. In the McLaren garage. In the media room. Anywhere and everywhere Lando Norris’ name existed.

Someone reported that it was Red Bull. A strategist ran numbers and alleged it was Mercedes.

But there had been no confirmation, no slip-up from the managers or team principals. Negotiations were made behind closed doors. Decisions trickled down after the fact, and rarely were people like you aware before the news was already meant to break.

Now, though, you find your stomach twisting as Lando stares at you through the darkness. He suddenly feels much like the sand outside this beach house—slipping right through your fingers.

“Are you leaving?” you manage.

He looks at you for a long beat, assessing the question you’ve decided to ask, then smiles faintly.

“Dunno yet,” he says. “Guess I’m waiting for something worth staying for.”

The air stills around you. For a moment, the two of you only look at each other, trapped in this summertime snow globe of indecision. The only sounds are the gentle clink of the glass as you set it down—the weight of it suddenly too heavy for your quivering fingers—and the ocean beyond the walls. The one that has seen you through four years of summers with Lando and Oscar.

“What does that mean?” you exhale, even though you already have some idea.

Lando grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re smart,” he says. Not in a taunt, but in a matter-of-fact way. “You’ll figure it out.”

He bites into another biscuit, winks, and walks out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there with the world’s most damning secret.

You’re in your head for most of the next day.

Lando’s words keep circling back, like a tide you can't fight: Something worth staying for. You wish he’d said it with a little less charm, a little less Lando. But he hadn’t. He’d said it with that easy smile, the one that hides how serious he might be underneath. The one that makes it impossible to tell whether he means any of it or all of it.

So now you’re stuck with it. The way he looked at you in the dim kitchen light. The way he popped another biscuit into his mouth like he hadn’t just handed you a loaded gun and walked off, not even watching his back to see if you’d shoot him.

Everything feels sideways. Every time you pass him in the hallway, your pulse does something stupid. Every laugh over breakfast, every casual brush of his arm against yours. It’s like something has shifted. Something that makes your skin buzz.

And Oscar feels it.

You know he does because he’s been trying to catch you alone all day. In the kitchen, during meals, on the walk down to the beach. But you keep dodging, not even consciously. You’re just not ready to talk about what almost happened. Not while the words worth staying for keep ringing in your ears.

By the time the sun dips low and the smell of dinner wafts through the beach house, Oscar gives up. He stops chasing, stops looking for the right moment.

But he doesn’t stop looking at you.

He sits across the room that night, slouched into the cushions, nursing a drink he hasn’t touched in half an hour. There’s something quiet in his posture, something that reads like retreat. His gaze is soft when it finds yours.

No longer searching, just lingering. Like he’s memorizing you before something ends.

And you? You’re still stuck, still wondering what Lando saw in you last night that made him say it. It’s driving you crazy, and you refuse to let it give you any more grief beyond the time you’ve already dwelled on it.

The tide whispers in and out as you jog along the wet sand, trailing the shape of Lando’s footprints.

You see him before he sees you. His silhouette cutting through the misted sun, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, curls damp with sweat. He’s always moved like this, light on his feet, like running is more instinct than effort.

“Lando,” you call out, voice too loud in the quiet.

He slows. “Morning,” he greets, brows arching as you fall in beside him, breathless and determined. It’s the second to the last day of the week-long retreat. A little over 24 hours since Lando entrusted you with the two halves of his heart.

You don’t stutter. “I can’t be the reason you stay.”

That stops him. Full stop, mid-stride. His breath clouds between you. “Whoa. You’ve been stewing on that all this time?”

“I don’t want that on me,” you insist. “If you stay, it has to be for the team. For you. For Osc—Piastri.”

Lando blinks. Then, his face breaks out into a knowing grin, curling around your sincerity. Not to snuff it out, but more to let it take hold.

“You really thought I was serious?” he says, half-laughing. “I was mostly joking. Kind of.”

You cross your arms. Lando is deflecting, trying to make it seem less than it really is, but you’re not about to call him out.

He runs a hand through his curls, then looks at you—really looks. The same way Oscar had last night, as if he’s trying to figure out which parts of you he can beg and barter for.

“I don’t think I’m done here,” he admits, decides. “I think I can still get a couple more championships with McLaren.”

A relieved sigh escapes you. “Okay, that’s—”

“And as for my other secret,” he interrupts, his hands planting on his hips. His tone is lighter, but his words are not any less cutting. “There’s always gonna be something between you and Osc, huh?”

You freeze.

You’d almost forgotten that. The ‘secret’ of Lando realizing you’re attractive, of him seeing you some other way than what you’re accustomed to. You try to stutter out some bullshit excuse, only to realize you had two hoodies to choose from today, and the one you’re wearing is not Lando’s.

His words land heavier than his tone suggests, but he doesn’t linger. Instead, he flashes a grin and steps back, putting space between you. Just enough to see if you’ll pull him back in.

You don’t.

“Go ahead. Have your fun with him,” Lando says. Easy, breezy. “But when I get that WDC, I’m coming back to collect.”

He’s gone before you can respond, before you can discern if his words are a threat or a promise. Sand kicks up behind him as he disappears into the dawn. McLaren’s golden boy, setting course for the sun.

That night, the energy is heavy and sparkling—like the last few drops of something good that's about to run out.

The group piles into the living room, a mess of sunburnt faces and half-drunk laughter. Everyone is tangled up in cushions and throw blankets. An empty bottle of vodka spins over the floor, clinking against the hardwood as it points and wobbles. The rules are easy: truth or dare, no take backs, no running away.

You’re trying not to stare at Oscar.

You’ve spent the better part of the day trying to catch him alone. Every time you moved toward him, he moved away, so you gave up after a while. You couldn’t blame him. You hadn’t exactly made yourself easy to reach lately, and he had his pride.

The bottle spins again. Spins and spins.

Eventually, it teeters to a stop and points squarely at Oscar.

A whoop goes up from the group. Someone slurs, “Truth or dare, Piastri!”

“Truth,” he answers, tongue already heavy and words just a bit slurred.

Someone from accounting leans forward, grinning wickedly. “Have you ever had a crush on someone from McLaren?”

It’s the sort of drunk, easy question everyone expects to be laughed off. Everyone expects some half-hearted dodge, some teasing deflection.

But Oscar doesn’t even blink.

“Yeah,” he says simply, his eyes steady.

Laughter ripples through the room. Someone shouts, “Who?!”

And then.

Oscar’s gaze finds you across the crowd, unwavering. The whole room feels like it tilts sideways.

You forget how to breathe.

He says your name. You’re tipsy, but you’re fairly sure of it. Your name has always sounded different when Oscar said it.

The room goes still for a moment before exploding into hoots and teasing cheers. “Mate,” Lando crows at his side, half-drunk and loud, “you’ve noticed the glow-up too, huh? She’s different this summer, right?”

Oscar frowns, almost like he doesn’t understand the joke. You feel every molecule of air between you stretch thin.

His next words are an absentminded mumble, almost lost to the clamor of activity in the circle.

“It’s not just this summer,” he says to no one in particular.

You don’t know what to do with your hands. With your heart. With the way Oscar is looking at you like you hung the stars.

Has he always looked at you like this?

You’re not sure who moves first. The bottle spins again. More shots get passed around. This is the part of the summer you’d been waiting for.

Knowing something has shifted. Knowing nothing is ever going to feel quite the same again.

Oscar groans the moment he sits down at breakfast, squinting at his plate like it’s personally offended him. You offer him an Aspirin and a sympathetic grin.

“Rough night?”

He scowls half-heartedly as he rubs at his temples. “Who even brought out the tequila?”

“That would be you,” you inform him brightly, plucking a piece of toast from his plate.

You fall into a companionable silence as the rest of the team trickles in, blurry-eyed and sun-kissed from too much fun. Packing starts soon. The last full day hangs heavy, sweet with goodbyes not yet said.

Later, as you help Oscar load his things into the boot of his car, the air between you shifts. Enough to make you slow down. You fold up a beach towel, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

You’re both dragging your feet through the sand, both trying to extend this moment before you’re thrown back into the whirlwind of race weekends and media obligations.

“Hey, uh,” he starts tentatively, “about last night. The game. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

You blink, confused. “Disrespectful?”

“Yeah.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, looking younger than you’ve ever seen him. “You know, since you and Lando are—you know.”

No, you don’t know. You’re not sure where the wrong impression might’ve landed, but you figure it’s somewhere between the day you spent ignoring Oscar and your lackluster reaction to his drunken admission.

“We’re not,” you say, your words tripping over each other in their haste. “Lando and I—we’re not.”

Oscar lifts a brow. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirm, heart stammering now. You look down at your feet, breathe in the oceanside one last time, and you make a choice.

“I, um. I’ve liked you for a while, actually,” you manage. “I just didn’t think you felt the same. And I don’t expect anything now, I mean—people say things when they’re drunk, and—”

Oscar Piastri wants it on record: gravity has nothing to do with him kissing you. The choice is all his. His desperation, his yearning, his urge to quiet the doubts that threaten to bubble out of you.

It’s a quick thing. Over before you can properly respond. His cheeks are red as he pulls back; it has nothing to do with the sun.

There’s something serious in his gaze. Something soft. “I was drunk, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it,” he says, eyes still fixed on your lips. “I’ve thought you were beautiful since the day I met you at MTC.”

You open your mouth, but all that escapes is a quiet, stunned breath.

“And, fuck, okay,” he exhales nervously, “I think I want more than just summers with you.”

You don’t overthink it. You lean in, hands curling into the front of his shirt. “Okay,” you whisper, and then you’re pulling him in to kiss him again, for longer, for more.

This time, he doesn’t pull away.

The house is half-empty by the time you're saying your see you laters, the air thick with that bittersweet ache that always clings to the end of something golden. People are hugging, snapping last-minute selfies, pretending they’re not already thinking about inboxes and deadlines.

You’re not pretending. Not today.

You’re watching Oscar load the last of the bags into his car, quiet and sure, the way he always moves when he thinks no one’s paying attention. There’s something unmistakable in the way he glances at you, like this week didn’t just change the rhythm of your summer but the shape of something much bigger.

You think about the other summers, the ones you thought were just fun and fleeting. You remember tequila shots Oscar took so you didn’t have to, the quiet way he always offered you the window seat on the flight home.

That first summer, when he set down his hoodie on the sand so you wouldn’t have to sit on it, and you’d laughed and called him a grandma.

You hadn’t seen it then. Or maybe you had, but you were too afraid to believe it.

Lando swings by with a backpack slung over his shoulder, squinting at the two of you with that trademark mischief. His eyes flick from you to Oscar, back again. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t have to. Just smirks knowingly and claps Oscar on the shoulder.

You grin, wide and wordless, and toss Lando a little wave as he heads for his own ride. Thank you, it says. For not making it weird. For always knowing.

Lando waves back at you. It’s strategic, too. His phone is in his hand, the screen angled towards you. You catch the glimpse of his Mail app being open. How there’s nothing unread in it, how he makes his own choice at the same time that you do.

Your attention is drawn back to Oscar when he clears his throat. “You, uh, still need a ride?” he asks with feigned calmness.

You lift a brow, biting back a giddy grin. “You’re going the complete opposite direction.”

“Roads are roads,” he says, like it’s that simple.

And, somehow, it is.

You slide into the passenger seat, folding your legs up as Oscar starts the engine. The breeze curls in through the open windows. It smells like salt, and sun, and something you never want to forget.

The road curves away from the coast, and still, summer clings to your skin, sinking into your bones. For the first time in a long time, you don’t dread what’s on the other side of it.

Oscar glances at you as you stick one hand out the window, letting the breeze slip between your fingers. You hadn’t noticed it then, but you do now. How he looks at you, how he saves smiles for you.

How roads are roads, and all of yours have led to him. ⛐

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