RAGHHH

RAGHHH

THE OTHER GUY PT.1 | FR43

an: @isaadore this one is for you. i've realised i haven't written anything for the latest pookie of the grid, so lets kick it off with some enemies to lovers

fc: random brunettes on pintrest

requests: open

ynpiastri

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, nicolepiastri and 67,938 others

my dearest lo, the boy who turned oscar and i into apart of a triplet and not twins, the racing world has been cruel to you. i will forever stand by your side no matter what. i love you forever and cannot wait to see what greatness you achieve. love, your unofficial little sister by four months, six days and ten minutes

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logansargeant: i love you ducky 🦆💛

ynpiastri: love you more sarge :)

userone: the cutest unofficial little sister he could ever ask for

usertwo: when the world doesn't have logan's back, we can trust that the piastri siblings have his back

userthree: god i love his relationship with them

oscarpiastri: well said ducky

ynpiastri: hire me as your pr

oscarpiastri: over my dead body

nicolepiastri: oscar be nice to your little sister

userfour: they still call her ducky

userfive: am i missing something here, why do they keep calling her ducky soz im new to this

usersix: she used to hide rubber ducks whenever she could for oscar and logan to find in f2 & f3

userfive: stop that so cute

williamsracing

liked by mclaren, alex_albon, francolapinto and 985,248 others

we are delighted to announce that franco colapinto is going to join us, racing for williams as of monza. welcome to formula one, franco!

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userone: 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

usertwo: poor logan ☹️

francolapinto: thank you!

userthree: where was logan's goodbye?

userfour: finally some real talent

userfive: williams try not sign an underprepared rookie challenge: failed 

usersix: jv keep an eye open at night 

ynpiastri: womp womp

francolapinto: ¿que hice? (what did i do) 

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 45,234 others

monza 🤘🤘

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userone: i want to be her 😩

usertwo: i want to date her 🤭

nicolepiastri: very tame post

ynpiastri: they can't tame me 👹

userthree: ten minute penalty for ocon

oscarpiastri: who's dog is that

ynpiastri: i stole it 😼

instagram story

twitter

interview with franco colapinto

twitter

twitter

the end.

lmk what you guys think of this! luv luv luv <3

MASTER LIST

requests; open! the drivers above are who i’m most likely to write about but depending on the request i’m open to ideas!

guide: - angst • fluff * smut

OSCAR PIASTRI | 81

i was all over her pt.1 -

summary; childhood best friends riddled with missed opportunities. oscar makes the mistake of introducing you to his new teammate who’s known to be a player.

i was all over her pt.2 -

summary; lando and y/n relationship is on the rocks. y/n either makes the worst or best decision of her life. oscar is losing it and has a secret habit of street racing?

i was all over her pt.3 - * (• if you squint)

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

KIMI ANTONELLI | f4

wishful thinking • (a sprinkle of -)

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

i need himmmmmmm

THE OTHER GUY PT.4 | FR43

part one | part two | part three |

an: only a couple more to go out! lmk if there is anything in particular you'd like to see and if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 34,244 others

city boy summer, can't keep the hoes away

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logansargeant: you are not a city boy

ynpiastri: or am i?

oscarpiastri: i, for the record am happily taken and will not engage in this tomfoolery

ynpiastri: @/lilyznimer i will pay you double what he's paying you to date him if you break up with him

userone: girl we all know franco is there too.

When you’d woken up this morning, the last thing you’d expected was a pounding at your door. It couldn’t have been housekeeping because you had it scheduled for 3 p.m., and it couldn’t have been a crazy fan because you made sure never to post near your door, ever. So when you opened it and were attacked by a flurry of blonde hair, your heart dropped. As per usual, whenever you saw the blonde mess, you knew your sheepish brother wasn’t far behind.

It was a welcome surprise, though. While you were enjoying the peace of the resort, it had been a while since you’d seen Logan or Oscar.

After catching up over breakfast and hearing their latest stories from home, you all had agreed to spend the day at the beach. The morning had been light and easy, filled with laughter and jokes, mocking how Oscar couldn’t tan and how Logan always managed to find an American flag, no matter what country he was in.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” Logan said, nudging you with his elbow. He grinned, a knowing look in his eyes as he adjusted his sunglasses. “What’s on your mind?”

You shake your head, trying to brush it off. “Nothing, just thinking.”

Oscar, who was stretched out beside you with his arms behind his head, let out a chuckle. “Thinking about what?” Tilting his head to the side, he gave you a teasing glance. “You’ve been acting weird since you got here last week.”

There was no escaping it now. Of course it was going to be noticeable that you’d been quieter, but that was because the thoughts swirling around in your head weren't exactly ones you were ready to share. Still, you couldn’t ignore the topic forever.

“I don’t know,” you started, the words slow and careful. “I guess… I’ve stopped looking at him with so much hatred.” The words were out before you could even clarify who he was.

It felt strange admitting it out loud. You’d spent so long disliking him—publicly, even. But now? After spending more time here, after getting to know him in ways you hadn’t expected… things had changed.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Wait. Are we talking about who I think we’re talking about?” He leaned in, clearly intrigued.

Glancing out at the ocean, you avoided eye contact with either man. “Yeah.”

Logan stayed quiet for a moment, and you almost regretted your words. Staying quiet for a beat longer, he sighed. “You know, he never did anything wrong.”

Turning around to face him, surprised, you lifted your sunglasses to look at him properly.

“He fought his way into the sport the same way I did,” Logan continued, his tone firm but not harsh. “You can’t hate him for something he can’t control.”

You felt your chest tighten. He was right. Deep down, you’d always known that. Franco didn’t choose to replace Logan—it wasn’t personal. He was just doing what any of them would do. Fighting for a place in a sport where nothing is guaranteed.

“I know,” you admitted softly. “It’s just… hard. I wanted to blame someone.”

Oscar sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “We get it. But honestly, you’ve got to let it go. Holding on to that anger—it’s not going to do you any good.”

For a second, you wanted to laugh because you couldn’t recall the last time in your life Oscar and Logan had agreed on something.

Just as you were about to say something else, you noticed movement in the distance. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him— Franco —walking along the shore. His head turned in your direction, and when his eyes met yours, he lifted his hand in a casual wave.

At first you thought he may be waving to Oscar, but when a shy smile graced his lips your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t not doing it for show, not trying to get under your skin. It was just a wave. Simple, friendly.

Before you could think too much about it, you waved back. And then, almost without realising it, a small smile tugs at your lips.

Both Oscar and Logan caught the interaction and raised an eyebrow, though Oscar didn’t say a word. Logan nudged you again, his voice teasing. “Well, look at that.”

You rolled your eyes at him but can’t help feeling a little lighter. Maybe you really were wrong about him. Maybe there’s more to him than the guy who replaced Logan.

You were still thinking about that smile when Logan gave you a sly nudge. “So… are you going to talk to him?”

Your head whipped around to his eyes wide. “What? No! Absolutely not.”

Oscar laughed, clearly enjoying your sudden panic. “Why not? You’ve already smiled at him, waved and everything. Just go over there and talk to the guy. It’s not like he’s some stranger.”

You shook your head, feeling your face heat up. “It’s not that easy! I can’t just walk up to him like it’s nothing.”

“Oh, come on,” Logan said,  rolling his eyes playfully. “You’ve been trash-talking him for months, and now you’re scared to ask him out for a drink? Seriously?”

Opening your mouth to protest, your face flushed as no words came out. You were flustered, and they both knew it.

Oscar sat up, shrugging nonchalantly. “What’s the worst that could happen? He says no? So what. But I don’t think he will.”

You glanced back towards where Franco was standing, now leaning against the railing, gazing out at the ocean. He looked relaxed, completely unaware of the internal chaos you were going through just a few feet away.

Your heart was pounding, and you felt a nervous knot in your stomach. “I can’t just… I mean, what would I even say?”

Logan gave you an encouraging smile. “Just be yourself. Ask him if he wants to grab a drink tonight. You’ve already softened up to him, right? This is your chance.”

You hesitated, glancing between Oscar and Logan, who both gave you looks that said go on, you’ve got this.

Finally, you exhale, standing up and wiping the sand off your legs. “Fine. I’ll do it. But if this goes horribly wrong, it’s your fault.”

Oscar grinned at you. “We’ll take full responsibility. Now go.”

With your heart still racing, you took a deep breath and started walking across the sand toward him. Each step feeling heavier than the last, your mind racing with all the things you could say—or worse, all the ways this could go wrong. But you were already halfway there, and there was no turning back now.

When you were just a few feet away, he noticed you approaching and turned around, his expression shifting from casual surprise to something more… interested. You could see it in his eyes, the way they lit up as you stopped in front of him.

“Hey,” you managed to say, hoping you didn’t sound as nervous as you felt.

“Hola,” he replied, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I wasn’t expecting you to come over.”

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling shy. Why did this feel so much harder than anything else you’d ever done? “Yeah, well… Oscar and Logan kind of persuaded me. They said I should talk to you.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What about?”

Your mind went blank for a second, “I was, uh… wondering if you’d want to grab a drink with me tonight.”

The words came out in a rush, and you immediately felt your cheeks flush, but you managed to hold his gaze. You couldn’t believe you just said that. Your heart was thumping so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Franco didn’t answer right away, but the smile on his face grew wider. “You’re asking me out?”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. “Yeah. If you’re free, I mean. It’s fine if you’re not, I understand.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, the cocky driver you’d seen in interviews was gone. In its place was  just a guy—surprised, maybe even flattered.

“I’d love to,” he said, his voice steady. “How about I pick you up around 8?”

Blinking, you took a minute to comprehend what he’d just said, relief and excitement flooding you all at once. “Really? Yeah, that works.”

“Great.” His smile was warm, and suddenly, the tension you were feeling melted away. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

You nodded, still trying to process that you’d actually gone through with it—and that he had said yes.

“See you tonight,” you echo, then turn to walk back to Oscar and Logan before remembering he didn’t have your room number. “Uh, room 438.”

Franco nodded in your direction, “Room 438.”

ynpiastri

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, francolapinto and 31,487 others

fit check, kind of nervous guys (📸 @logansargeant)

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userone: FRANCO IN THE LIKES 🤭

usertwo: oh my god i want her

oscarpiastri: scared for what? i thought you were city boy summering rn

ynpiastri: @/lilyznimer PLEASE BREAK UP WITH THIS NERD

userthree: just seen franco in the hall of the same resort, looks quite dapper if you ask me

logansargeant: this isn't very city boy summer of you

ynpiastri: eat dirt 😍😍

userfour: franyn?

the end.

taglist: @iimplicitt @isaadore @iamred-iamyellow @justheretoreadthxxs @obxstiles @how-what-why-huh @raizelchrysanderoctavius @sainzzreputaticn @xxx-betty @dukeofjjune @dejavuontrack @littlegrapejuice @mxdi0

oh no oh no oh no no no no no

CHICAGO PT.2 | OP81

an: let's go! i'm trying to post all of these before i go to bed tonight lol but lets get ready to get some hearts broken eheh. i think there may be 3/4 parts idk just yet.

wc: 5.7k

part one

The sound of bustling in the motorhome didn’t register in Oscar’s mind as he sat at his desk, eyes glued to the telemetry data on his screen, but none of it made sense. The numbers, usually so clear and precise, now blurred together into meaningless patterns. The quiet hum of machinery that typically soothed him seemed distant, as if he were underwater, everything muted and detached. His mind wasn’t here, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull it back to the present.

The knock on the door was soft but insistent, pulling him out of his trance. Oscar blinked, his focus slowly drifting back to the now, but the heavy feeling in his chest remained.

“Mate, you got a minute?” Logan’s voice was casual, but the concern in his tone was unmistakable. Oscar didn’t need to look up to know that his friend was already studying him, reading the signs of whatever was weighing him down. Logan was perceptive like that, always had been.

Oscar gestured half-heartedly toward the chair across from his desk, sitting up straighter as if trying to shake off the cloud that had followed him back from Chicago. Logan didn’t say anything at first as he crossed the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. When he finally sat, his eyes were sharp, the silence thick between them. It wasn’t the usual easy going conversation they often shared over race stats or banter about rival teams. This was different.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Logan began, his voice steady but carrying the weight of the unspoken. “Ever since you got back from Chicago... something’s been off, Osc.”

The words hit like a slow burn, and Oscar’s defences rose instinctively. His brows furrowed as he turned back to the screen, fingers tapping at the keyboard in a weak attempt to look busy. “What do you mean, ‘off’? I’ve been handling everything.” He gestured vaguely at the data. “I haven’t fallen below fifth. We’ve hit every target these past few races.”

Logan didn’t bite, his gaze steady and unwavering. “It’s not about the numbers, mate. It’s you. You’ve been distracted. Hell, I’m not even on your team, and I can see it. Everyone can.”

Oscar shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The words stung, not because they weren’t true, but because they were hitting at something he hadn’t wanted to confront. He’d been slipping, that much was clear. The cracks in his focus, his drive, were spreading wider each day, and it had all started with her.

Logan leaned forward, his voice dropping to a softer, more concerned tone. “Look, I’m not here to have a go at you. But I’ve known you long enough to tell when something’s eating you up. You’ve been different, Oscar. It’s like part of you never came back from Chicago. You stayed there for three weeks more than necessary and none of us heard from you.”

Chicago. Her.

The mention of the city made Oscar’s stomach twist, and he could already feel the familiar tightness in his chest as thoughts of her rushed to the forefront of his mind. Her face, her voice, the way she had looked at him with those dark, knowing eyes—it was all-consuming.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Oscar muttered, his voice sharper than intended. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension there, like a coil that had been winding tighter and tighter ever since his plane touched down in England.

Logan didn’t flinch at the harsh tone. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying Oscar carefully. “Buddy, you need to talk about it. You’re spiralling. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”

There was a long pause as Oscar wrestled with himself, torn between shutting down the conversation or finally letting some of it out. He had been bottling it all up for weeks now, but maybe that’s why he felt so lost. The confusion, the obsession—it was suffocating him, and Logan, of all people, could see that.

Oscar sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair and letting his gaze drop to the floor. “I met someone in Chicago,” he finally admitted, the words coming out quieter than he’d expected. 

Logan didn’t respond immediately, waiting for Oscar to continue.

“She’s... something else,” Oscar said, his voice softening as he spoke her name. He could still picture her so vividly—the way her lips had curved into that intoxicating smile, the way she’d held him like he was the only man in the room. “She’s got this way about her, you know? It’s like... everything fades when she’s around. Nothing else matters. She’s got this kid. She’s 7.”

There was a weight in his words, a truth that hung between them. He could feel Logan watching him closely, but he couldn’t stop himself now. The floodgates had opened.

“I told her I’d leave everything for her,” Oscar admitted, his voice breaking slightly as the confession slipped out. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt warring inside him. “My job, my life here... I told her I’d walk away from it all if she asked.”

Logan’s expression shifted, surprise flickering in his eyes before he quickly composed himself. He let out a low whistle, leaning forward in his chair. “You told her that?”

Oscar nodded, feeling the heat of shame rise in his chest. Saying it out loud made it sound even more reckless than it had felt in the moment. “Yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just... she makes me feel like that. Like I’d do anything for her.”

Logan was silent for a moment, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on the arm of the chair. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but firm. “Look, I get it. We’ve all met someone who makes us feel like we’re the centre of the universe. But, mate, you barely know this woman. And now you’re ready to drop everything?”

Oscar swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening. He didn’t have an answer, not one that made sense anyway. She had entered his life like a storm, leaving everything in disarray, and he hadn’t cared. He had let her, and wanted her to. She had stirred something in him he hadn’t even known existed, and now he couldn’t shake it.

“I don’t know what it is about her,” Oscar muttered, his voice almost pleading as if Logan could somehow make sense of it all. “She’s just... got this pull. It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt.”

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, but his concern deepened. “It sounds like she’s got you hooked, mate. Too hooked. This kind of obsession—it’s dangerous. And you’ve been off ever since. That’s what worries me.”

Oscar felt his stomach churn. He knew Logan was right. He had been different—distant, consumed by thoughts of her, unable to focus on anything else. Even his work, which had always been his lifeline, felt like it was slipping away from him, second to her.

“I just—” Oscar sighed, slumping in his chair. “I don’t want to lose her. I don’t even know if she feels the same way, but I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like... she’s got a part of me now, and I don’t know how to get it back.”

Logan leaned forward, placing a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Listen to yourself, Osc. You’ve only known her for what, a few weeks? And she’s already got you ready to throw your entire life away. Something you’ve worked for since you were four. That’s not love, mate. That’s something else.”

Oscar bit his lip, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. Deep down, he knew Logan was right. She wasn’t just a woman he had fallen for—she was a temptation, a trap that he couldn’t seem to break free from. She had woven herself into his life so seamlessly, made him feel so needed, so wanted, that he had willingly given up pieces of himself to her.

“I don’t know how to stop,” Oscar whispered, the vulnerability in his voice undeniable. “I can’t just... let her go.”

Logan’s grip tightened on his shoulder. “You don’t have to figure it out right now. But you need to get your head back in the game, Oscar. This isn’t you. Don’t let her take everything.”

The room felt heavier, the weight of Logan’s words pressing down on him. Oscar nodded slowly, though he wasn’t sure how to follow through. How could he just let go of the woman who had consumed his every thought, his every breath?

As Logan stood and walked to the door, Oscar sat still, staring at his phone, the glow of her name soft against the harsh, sterile light of the room he was in. His thumb hovered over the screen, the pulse of his indecision throbbing in his chest. Just one call—one word from her, and all the unease would dissolve like sugar in water. It would be so easy to surrender, to let her voice wash over him, to fall back into the haze of her charm where the world outside ceased to exist.

But Logan’s words lingered, seeping into the cracks of his resolve, grounding him in a way he hated. He had always been composed, controlled—a man who built his life on precision. The whirring of engines, the hum of data, the rhythm of speed—it all made sense. He lived in a world of absolutes, of things you could measure, things you could control.

But she... she was none of that. She was chaos wrapped in beauty, temptation cloaked in warmth, her presence like a drug that dulled every other sensation. She had unravelled him, bit by bit, with every glance, every touch. And now, the lines between reality and illusion blurred, leaving him lost in a maze he had no desire to escape.

What am I doing? The question rose up, unbidden, and for a moment, it startled him. He clenched his fists, the tension in his body coiling tighter, fighting against the pull she had on him. He had never felt like this before. The intensity of it scared him. He was losing himself, and he could feel it, piece by piece. He had always prided himself on keeping his emotions in check, but with her, it was different.

It was like being caught in a rip current, the deeper he was pulled, the more he surrendered. But beneath the rush of desire, there was something else, something colder—a whisper of doubt, like the first cracks in ice before it gives way.

She makes me feel alive, he told himself, over and over again, as if the words were a balm. She makes me feel important. And hadn’t he been looking for that? Searching for something, someone, to break through the monotony of his life? She had given him that, hadn’t she?

But Logan’s voice broke through again, quieter this time. Mate, you barely know her. Something’s off...

Oscar exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration burning under his skin. Barely know her... The truth of it stung. He barely knew her, yet he had offered her everything—his time, his thoughts, his heart, as if it were hers to take. He had let her seep into the very fabric of his life, allowing her to become more than a passing fling. But was she real? Or was she just an illusion, a carefully crafted mask she wore to lure him deeper into her world?

What if I’m just another name in a long list of men who’ve been pulled into her orbit? What if I’m nothing more than a distraction for her, the way she’s become everything to me?

His heart rebelled against the thought. The memories flooded back—the way she smiled when they were alone, the tenderness in her voice when she spoke about her daughter. He had seen vulnerability in her, glimpsed something fragile beneath the surface. That had to be real. Didn’t it?

But then there was the other side of her, the woman who seemed to know exactly how to touch him, how to draw him closer, how to make him feel like he was the centre of her universe. That part of her felt rehearsed, calculated, and yet, he’d wanted it, needed it. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him that way, made him feel seen, made him feel like more than just a cog in a machine.

She makes me feel alive, he reminded himself again, but the thought rang hollow this time, brittle like old paper, crumbling under the weight of doubt.

Logan’s words whispered again, echoing in his mind: That’s not love, mate. That’s something else.

What was it then? Lust? Obsession? Some dark need for validation that he had been too blind to see before? He didn’t want to believe that. He wanted to believe that she was different, that she was something real in a world where everything else felt like a blur of races, schedules, and deadlines. She had lit a fire in him, one that had been smouldering in the background for years, and now it was roaring out of control. But was it burning too bright, too fast?

How long can you live in the flames before they consume you?

Oscar closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, feeling the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him. He was tired—tired of the back-and-forth, tired of the sleepless nights where he lay awake, thinking of her, of her body against his, of the promises she never made but that he so desperately wanted her to keep.

His fingers hovered over the phone again, and the temptation surged back, stronger than before. He could call her. Just hear her voice. Just feel that rush of adrenaline, of desire, wash over him once more. It would be easy. So easy.

But then what? Another night of chasing after a ghost? Another day spent in the fog of her memory, half-present, while the rest of his life slipped through his fingers? How long could he keep living like this, torn between two worlds—the one where he was a man with responsibilities, and the one where he was drowning in her?

Logan was right. The thought was bitter, but undeniable. She wasn’t just a woman. She was a temptation. A temptation he had willingly fallen into, knowing full well he might not find his way back. She had hooked him with her beauty, her mystery, and he had followed her blindly, like a moth drawn to a flame.

But now, the flame was burning him.

I can’t keep this up, he thought, the realisation settling in like a cold weight in his chest. I can’t keep pretending that I’m in control. He wasn’t. He hadn’t been since the moment he first saw her.

He opened his eyes, staring down at the phone, the glow of her name flickering like a distant beacon. He wanted her. He wanted to lose himself in her, to feel that rush, that overwhelming intensity that only she could give him. But at what cost?

How much of yourself are you willing to lose?

He couldn’t answer that question, not yet. But the fear had taken root. And for the first time, Oscar wasn’t sure if he could pull himself out.

His finger hovered over her name one last time before he closed the screen. He set the phone down on the desk, his heart pounding, his hands trembling with the weight of the choice he hadn’t yet made.

________________________________

The heat of the paddock pressed down like a weight, thick and relentless, even in the shadows of the race garages. Oscar found it hard to breathe, the air stifling despite the constant hum of engines and chatter from the pit crews. The familiar rhythm of race day—engines roaring, mechanics fine-tuning, the distinct smell of fuel in the air—had always given him a sense of purpose. Today, it felt foreign, distant, like something he could only touch through a fog.

Oscar leaned against the doorframe of the driver’s lounge, his arms crossed over his chest, trying to focus on the task at hand. Lando sat across from him, casual and relaxed, his racing suit half unzipped and tied around his waist. There was something effortless about him—always had been. He was the kind of driver who could flick the switch on and off, the kind who could walk into a room and instantly adapt, no matter the chaos surrounding him.

“Thinking of bringing my girlfriend to one of these soon,” Lando said, his voice light, as if he’d been mulling it over quietly for a while. He didn’t look at Oscar directly as he spoke, just stared at the ground, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Oscar blinked, the words barely registering at first. He’d known Lando for two years now, but this—this was new. Girlfriend?

“What? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Oscar said, his voice sharper than he intended, caught off guard by the admission.

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as though it wasn’t a big deal. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t really talked about her. We’ve been together for almost a year now, but... I dunno, it didn't feel like the right time to mention it.”

Oscar’s brows furrowed. “A year?” He leaned in, the disbelief clear in his voice. “We’ve been on the same team for two years, and you never said a word.”

Lando shrugged, his tone casual, but there was a deeper emotion beneath it—something careful, deliberate. “It’s not that I didn’t want to, mate. It’s just... well, there’s more to it.”

“What do you mean?” Oscar asked, his frustration masked as curiosity, though he could feel his chest tightening with a strange mix of envy and confusion. How had Lando managed to keep this from him for so long?

Lando hesitated for a moment, then exhaled, as if deciding to let Oscar in on something personal, something he hadn’t shared with many. “I met her last year when I was over in the States for an off-season event. We hit it off, but... she’s got a kid, you see? A little boy. I didn’t want to rush her into anything—didn’t want to throw her into this circus, you know? Not with a kid in the mix.”

Oscar’s heart stuttered at the mention of the child, a sharp stab of familiarity hitting him square in the gut. The room felt like it was closing in, the air thick with too many connections he wasn’t ready to make. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure as Lando’s words sank in.

“I didn’t know,” Oscar muttered, his voice strained. “You’ve... you’ve never said anything.”

“I know,” Lando admitted, his voice softening. “I just didn’t want to make it a thing, you know? She’s great, but I didn’t want to put pressure on her with all this racing stuff. She’s already got enough on her plate being a mum, and I’ve been taking it slow, giving her space.”

Oscar sat there, staring at Lando, the room suddenly feeling too small, too stifling. The air seemed to thicken as Lando talked about his girlfriend— a woman he had met in America. A woman with a child. Seven years old.

The details felt like icy drops hitting the back of Oscar’s neck, one by one, sending shivers through him. It wasn’t just the facts aligning—it was something in the way Lando spoke, with that unguarded fondness, that struck a nerve. A year. A whole year.

“You say she’s got a kid?” Oscar repeated slowly, his voice barely masking the tremor that ran through it.

“Yeah, a little boy. He’s seven,” Lando continued, oblivious to Oscar’s growing unease. “I didn’t want to overwhelm her with the race scene too soon. It’s why I’ve kept it quiet.”

Oscar felt his stomach lurch as he tried to keep his composure, but his mind raced. A woman from America. A child. Seven years old. Her daughter was seven. Lea. Smart as a whip, she’d said, with that practised softness in her eyes, just like Lando described now with Olivia. His heart pounded in his chest, an eerie chill spreading through him.

He leaned back slightly, the world around him warping as Lando continued to talk, but Oscar barely heard the words anymore. His pulse thudded in his ears, thoughts colliding in a chaotic swirl. Could it be her? Could it really be the girl he fell for? No, that would be impossible. She was here, in his head, tangled up in his life. She had been real with him—or had she?

“We met in Chicago, actually,” Lando said, oblivious to Oscar’s unravelling thoughts. “At this Mclaren event. She wasn’t like anyone else. Just this—this energy, you know? And we hit it off right away. Kept things low-key because of her son, didn’t want to rush anything. But it’s been almost a year now, and I’m thinking it’s time.”

Oscar’s heart stopped for a moment. Chicago. He had met her in Chicago, too. Energy? Oh, she had that, alright. Enough to draw you in, wrap you up in her world, and leave you wanting more. The coincidences began to pile up, thick and heavy, until they felt like more than coincidences. He remembered the way she had smiled at him, that first night, like a predator sizing up prey. She’d told him about her daughter, her struggles, and he had believed it—every word.

No. It couldn’t be the same person. It couldn’t be her.

His throat tightened as he struggled to keep his face neutral, to not give away the storm raging inside him. “A whole year, huh?” Oscar asked, his voice strained.

Lando nodded, smiling with a warmth that twisted Oscar’s insides. “Yeah, mate. She’s amazing. I was scared to mention bringing her into this,” he gestured vaguely around the lounge, “you know how it can get, but I think she’s ready now. I’ve been careful, for her son’s sake. It’s important, you know? She’s... she’s been through a lot.”

Oscar swallowed hard. Been through a lot. The words echoed painfully. She had said the same thing about raising her daughter. Was it all a lie? His thoughts flashed back to the way she had let him in, made him feel like he was saving her from something. But now, it was all blurring—had any of it been real?

His hands shook, and he clenched them into fists, his mind racing as Lando’s story continued to spill out. Chicago. America. A year. A son. Not a daughter.

His mind latched onto that detail. A son. Lando said she had a son. She had told him she had a daughter. Lea, seven years old, smart as a whip. He could hear her voice in his head, could see the way her eyes softened when she spoke of her. Oscar gripped that fragment of information like a lifeline, reassuring himself that it couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be her.

It didn’t add up. It’s not her, he told himself. It can’t be.

But doubt gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, relentless, seeping in like a slow poison. How well did he really know her? How many other things had she kept hidden behind that magnetic smile? He had never met her daughter—everything she had told him had been words, stories spun with precision, stories that had seduced him, trapped him. Stories that had hooked him.

“You alright?” Lando’s voice cut through the fog of Oscar’s spiralling thoughts.

Oscar blinked, realising he had been silent too long. His breath came out ragged, and he forced a quick smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just... tired, I guess. It’s been a long few weeks.”

Lando gave him a curious look but didn’t push. “I get it. Races can do that to you.”

Oscar nodded absently, but his mind was elsewhere, teetering on the edge of a terrible realisation. What if it was her? What if she had been playing him and Lando both? The weight of that possibility pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him. But even as the thoughts churned, he shook them off.

No. He refused to believe it. She had been real with him—he was sure of it. There had been something between them, something more than just lies. Hadn’t there?

And yet...

Lando was still talking, his voice now distant, almost as though he were speaking from another room. Oscar barely heard him. He couldn’t shake the sinking feeling, the creeping suspicion that gnawed at him. The pieces were too close, too similar. America. A child. A year. Chicago. A Mclaren event. All of it aligned in ways that made his skin crawl.

But no, he couldn’t let himself believe it. He wouldn’t believe it. She had been everything to him, had stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in years. That couldn’t just be a lie. He knew her—or at least, he thought he did.

He forced another smile, this one tighter, more forced. “I’m glad things are working out for you, man. Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going.”

Lando grinned, oblivious to Oscar’s internal struggle. “Yeah, I think so. I’m hoping to bring her to the next race—introduce her to everyone. You’ll love her. She’s got a way of making everyone feel like they’ve known her forever.”

Oscar’s heart clenched. Yeah, I bet she does, he thought, a bitter edge creeping into his mind. He could feel the walls closing in on him, the pressure building. He had to get out of there, had to breathe, had to escape this sudden storm of doubt.

“I’m sure she’s great,” Oscar said, standing up, trying to keep his voice steady. “Listen, I’ve gotta go check on something in the garage. I’ll catch you later?”

Lando nodded, giving Oscar a friendly wave as he walked out. “Yeah, man. See you around.”

As soon as Oscar was out of the room, he exhaled a long, shaky breath, leaning against the wall for support. His hands trembled as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through the messages from her—ones filled with sweet promises, moments of intimacy, late-night confessions that now felt tainted.

Could she really be the same woman?

The thought consumed him, dark and insidious, but he crushed it before it could take root. No. It’s not her. He refused to believe it. He needed to believe that what he had with her was real. Whatever Lando was talking about—it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

But as he stood there, the buzzing world of this week’s Grand Prix rushing around him, Oscar couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that maybe, just maybe, he had been played.

And that thought—however fleeting—was enough to leave him feeling hollow.

Later that day Oscar sat in his driver’s room, the low hum of activity outside his door a distant murmur compared to the storm inside his head. Lando’s words still echoed, spinning around his mind like a relentless reel, the puzzle pieces so close yet too painful to piece together.

He stared down at his phone, thumb hovering over the message thread with her. He hadn’t spoken to her since he left Chicago, their relationship left hanging in the space between his job and the mess inside his head. Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe Lando’s girlfriend, with her son and the whole year-long relationship, was someone entirely different. But the doubts had wormed their way deep, and he needed to hear her voice, needed her to soothe him, to say something that would erase the gnawing suspicion.

Before he could overthink it, he typed a message.

Oscar: Hey. Can we talk? I miss your voice.

He hit send, the message blurring on the screen as anxiety gripped him. He had barely taken a breath before the reply came through.

Her: I was just thinking about you, babe. Call me?

Without a second thought, he dialled her number, and the familiar ring seemed to both soothe and heighten his nerves at once. Then, she answered.

“Oscar,” her voice came through the phone, soft and inviting, that same melodic lilt that had hooked him from the beginning. “It’s so good to hear from you.”

Just hearing her say his name unravelled some of the tension in his chest. He sank back against the bed, running a hand through his hair, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, it’s good to hear your voice too. It’s been... a long couple of weeks.”

“Mm, I know,” she purred. “You sound tired. You’ve been working too hard.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, already feeling himself soften in her presence, even through the phone. God, she knew just how to make everything disappear. “It’s just... been crazy. Everything feels off lately.”

There was a brief pause on the other end before her voice dropped into that sweet, knowing tone, the one that always made him feel like she understood him in ways no one else did. “You’re carrying too much weight, Oscar. You always do. You need to let go. You’re doing everything you can, and more. But you can’t lose yourself to it, baby. You’re too important to let this job eat you alive.”

Her words felt like a warm balm over his frayed nerves, the weight of her attention drowning out the noise of everything else. “You always know what to say.”

“Of course I do,” she replied, her voice like honey, dripping with affection. “I know you, Oscar. Better than you think.”

That line caught him, a pang of guilt tugging at him. Did she really know him? Or was this just part of her game? The doubts flickered back to life, faint embers smouldering beneath the surface. “Yeah...”

But before the doubt could deepen, she cut in, her voice a low, sultry hum. “Tell me what’s on your mind. I miss that too, you know—hearing you talk. The way you think out loud when you’re frustrated. I miss all of it.”

His heart ached at that, and he could feel himself slipping again, the uncertainty clouding over. She made him feel seen, wanted, and even in the quiet moments of their conversations, she filled every gap, leaving him no room for doubt. “I don’t know,” he said, almost reluctantly. “Just been thinking about a lot of things. Lando was talking about his girlfriend today, and it just got me... I don’t know... thinking.”

Her voice remained smooth, steady, unbothered. “About what?”

“About us. About where this is going.”

There was a beat of silence, then her laugh—light, easy, intoxicating. “Oscar, baby. Why are you worrying about us? You know I’ve always got you, right?”

His chest tightened, but not in the same way it had earlier. Now it was different—like he needed her, like without her, the world wouldn’t make sense. “I know. I just... I miss you. It’s hard being so far away.”

“I miss you too,” she whispered, her voice sending a shiver down his spine. “I think about you all the time. I wish I could be there with you. You know, sometimes I imagine you dropping everything and just coming back to me. Forget the job. Forget the stress. You and me... we could make it work. You ever think about that?”

Oscar laughed softly, but there was a hollow edge to it. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. Hell, I’ve even joked about leaving my job for you.”

“And why shouldn’t you?” she teased, her voice wrapping around him like silk. “You don’t need that life to be happy, Oscar. You need something real. Something... deep. And I can give that to you.”

Her words sank into him, erasing every nagging thought that had been lingering. Every little doubt Lando’s conversation had planted in his mind vanished in the warmth of her voice. He imagined it—walking away from all of it, from the pressure, from the constant grind. He could be with her, the woman who made him feel alive in ways nothing else could.

He closed his eyes, her words echoing in his mind. “You’re right,” he murmured, the walls between them crumbling. “You always know how to make everything better.”

“Good,” she said, her voice softening into something almost tender. “I like knowing you trust me. I’ll always be here for you, Oscar.”

He smiled, feeling the last of the tension slip away, the weight lifting from his shoulders. She was his anchor, his constant in the chaos. What had he been doubting? Of course it wasn’t her. He had been letting paranoia get the better of him.

“I wish you were here now,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a longing he couldn’t hide.

“I wish I was too,” she replied, her voice low, almost a whisper. “But I’ve got to go, I’ve got to pack.”

Oscar frowned slightly. “Pack? Where are you going?”

“A work trip,” she said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “I’ll be gone a few days. Nothing major. Just some business to take care of.”

His heart sank slightly, but he tried to hide it. “Where to?”

“New York, for a few meetings. I’ll miss you, though.”

The way she said it made him forget every other detail. Forget New York. Forget the meetings. It didn’t matter. She’d be back, and she’d be his again. “I’ll miss you too.”

“I know you will,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I’ll call you when I get back, okay?”

“Yeah,” Oscar replied, already aching for that next call. “Okay. Be safe.”

“I always am, baby,” she said, her voice soft and sultry once more. “Take care of yourself, alright? And don’t let that job pull you under.”

“I won’t.”

And with that, she hung up, leaving Oscar alone in his room again, but this time, he felt lighter. She had wiped away all the doubts, reassured him in a way only she could. Whatever worries Lando’s words had sparked—they were gone now.

She was his. She wasn’t playing him. She couldn’t be.

And as he lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, Oscar allowed himself to fall back into her web, his mind blissfully quiet, for now.

part three

tag list: @iimplicitt @hearts4acemyluv @a-beaverhausen

I WAS ALL OVER HER PT.2 — O.P.

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

part two of three, link to part one here

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

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

word count: 4.9k

dedicated to: @theonottsbxtch

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

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not answering.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Break up with him.”

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

“Break up with him.”

“Oscar—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You shouldn’t have to handle him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “I mean yeah, but—“

“And now Lando is in the way?”

Oscar sighed, “yeah.”

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

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

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

“When did you get wise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oscar—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

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

landonorris yup 🏆 more like it

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userone: LESGOOOOO

usertwo: twowinssss

userthree: anyone notice how tense lando & oscar were?

| userfour: yea… and landos gf. super weird

| userfive: neither of them liked this either

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

| userseven: YEAAA lando has been lurkinggg

| usereight: embarrassing honestly

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

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

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

usertweleve: MORE DM’S GOT LEAKED

userthirteen: lando is quite literally for the streets

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

comments have been disabled

part three found here

these always got me blushinggg 😩

THE OTHER GUY PT.3 | FR43

an: let's go part three! i'm really loving this series, i'm trying to push for 4/5 parts? lmk if there is anything you guys want to see in particular! love you guys <3

part one | part two

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 31,475 others

no excuses

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The low hum of the treadmill and the rhythmic clang of weights filled the resort’s gym, but Franco wasn’t paying attention to any of it. His focus was locked on the woman in the corner, working through her routine with laser-like focus.

She didn’t notice him, which was for the best—he wasn’t ready to deal with her sharp tongue or the way she looked at him like he was the villain in her story. But right now, she was different. She didn’t have her guard up, didn’t look like she was ready to tear him apart with another sarcastic comment. She looked… gorgeous.

It wasn’t just the way her ponytail swung as she moved, or the way her tank top clung to her in all the right places. There was something else, something about the determination in her eyes, the way she focused on each rep like the rest of the world didn’t exist. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was fierce. Strong. And, damn, if that didn’t make her even more attractive.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning against the doorframe, trying to play it cool. Franco knew he shouldn’t be watching her like this, but it was hard to look away. Every time he saw her, something pulled him in, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend it was just because she hated him.

He’d been thinking about her way too much lately. The way she challenged him, never letting him get too close, always keeping him on the edge. And yeah, maybe that was part of the thrill. But now, as he stood there, watching her with sweat glistening on her skin, it wasn’t just about the challenge anymore.

He wanted to ask her out.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, and he cursed under his breath. What the hell was he thinking? She couldn’t stand him. She’d made that clear from the start, and asking her out would probably end in her laughing in his face or worse—publicly roasting him on her Instagram for the world to see.

But still… he couldn’t shake the thought. The way she made his heart race, how every word from her lips felt like a dare. He wanted to take that risk, to see if maybe—just maybe—there was something more behind her walls. Something she wasn’t ready to admit.

“Mate, what are you staring at?”

The voice of his friend, Diego, snapped him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed Diego walking up beside him, his water bottle in hand and a raised eyebrow on his face.

“Nothing,” he muttered, but it was too late. Diego followed his gaze, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Right. Nothing. That’s why you’ve been standing here for a full five minutes staring at her like a lost puppy.”

“Callarse la boca,” (shut up) he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it’s not.” Diego’s grin widened as he leaned in, lowering his voice. “So, when are you going to ask her out?”

He shot his friend a look. “You’re joking, right? You know how she feels about me. She’d chew me up and spit me out before I even got the words out.”

“Maybe,” Diego admitted, shrugging. “But maybe she wouldn’t. Look, I’m just saying, you’ve been eyeing her for days, and it’s not just because she’s Logan’s best friend and Oscar’s sister. You’re into her.”

“I’m not—”

“Mate, you are.” Diego cut him off, raising his hand. “And here’s the thing: girls like her, the ones that give you a hard time? Half the time, it’s because they’re scared of how much they like you. You know the saying, ‘keep your enemies close’ and all that.”

He shook his head, but deep down, he couldn’t deny Diego’s words were getting to him. Maybe that’s why she was always so sharp with him—because she was scared. Or maybe he was just kidding himself.

“Look, you’ll never know unless you try,” Diego continued, nudging him with his elbow. “What’s the worst that could happen? She shuts you down? You’ve survived worse, need I remind you of your ex?.”

He thought about it for a long moment, his eyes drifting back to her as she moved through her final set. Diego was right—he’d survived worse, and if she shot him down, at least he’d know he tried. And if, somehow, she didn’t… Well, that was a risk worth taking.

“Fine,” Franco said finally, running a hand over his face. “I’ll do it. I’ll ask her out.”

Diego grinned, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Just be cool, alright? Don’t be the cocky bastard you usually are. You’ve got this.”

He wasn’t so sure about that, but as he took a deep breath and headed toward her, the pounding in his chest wasn’t just from nerves. It was excitement. He was ready for the risk.

francolapinto

liked by williamsracing, carlossainz55, ynpiastri and 984,237 others

keep pushing during the break

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You wiped the sweat from your brow, breathing hard as you finished your last set. The gym was quiet this time of night, just the way you liked it. Fewer people meant fewer distractions—fewer chances of running into Franco.

You shook her head, scolding yourself for even thinking about him. Why was he constantly on your mind? Maybe it was because he seemed to pop up everywhere. The pool, the restaurant, and now—you caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror—the gym.

Your eyes flicked to the reflection. There he was, leaning against the doorway, watching you. You could feel his gaze, the same infuriating, intense look he always gave you, like he was daring you to react. It was infuriating how much he got under your skin, how he was always there, always pushing.

You turned your back to the mirror, trying to pretend you hadn’t seen him, but the knot in your stomach wouldn’t loosen. It wasn’t nerves, not really. It was more complicated than that—a mix of irritation, confusion, and something you refused to name. You weren't about to let him know he’d gotten to you, not when he was probably waiting for you to snap, just so he could make some smug comment.

But he didn’t leave.

You could feel him still there, watching, and it drove you crazy. You could handle the public stuff—the jabs on social media, the press interviews where he dropped some flirty comment about you, like he was trying to bait you. But this… this was different. He wasn’t playing to an audience here. This was just him, watching you like you were the only person in the room.

Your heart pounded, and you hated it. Hated that he had this effect on you.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tightening around the dumbbell in your hand. Maybe if you just ignored him, he’d leave. But then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps moving closer made your grip tighten even more. He wasn’t leaving. Of course he wasn’t.

"Hey," his voice cut through the air, smooth and casual, like he hadn’t been staring at you for who knew how long.

You straightened up, wiping your palms on your leggings before turning around, schooling your face into a mask of indifference. You weren't going to let him see any weakness.

“What do you want?” you asked, your tone sharper than youintended.

He hesitated for a second, almost like he wasn’t sure what to say. That was a first. Usually, he had some cocky remarks locked and loaded. But tonight, there was something different in his eyes. A vulnerability that threw you off guard.

“I was just… wondering if you wanted to grab a drink or something,” he said, the confidence in his voice wavering just enough for you to notice.

A drink?

You stared at him, completely blindsided. Out of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing you’d expected. Was he seriously asking you out? After all the snark, all the public back-and-forth?

You should say no. You should laugh in his face, tell him to take his ego and leave you alone. It would be the easiest thing in the world to turn him down.

But the words didn’t come.

Instead, you found herself staring at him, taking in the way his usually cocky demeanour had softened. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t playing some game to get a rise out of you. He was just… asking. And there was something disarming about that.

Your heartbeat quickened, and you hated that, too.

“You’re joking, right?” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “No joke. Just thought maybe… we could talk. Outside of all this.”

You could tell he was waiting for the rejection. You could practically feel the tension rolling off him as he braced himself for your inevitable shutdown. But for the first time since you’d met him, you didn’t feel like fighting. She felt… curious.

Why now? Why you?

You crossed your arms, more to steady yourself than anything. “You know I can’t stand you, right?”

His lips twitched in what almost looked like a smile. “Yeah. I’m well aware.”

“And yet you think I’d want to get a drink with you?”

He shrugged, his eyes still holding yours, like he was trying to figure you out. “What can I say? I’m an optimist.”

You wanted to roll her eyes, wanted to laugh in his face, but instead, you found herself biting your lip, considering it. And that was the most frustrating part. Because as much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny there was something between them. Something you couldn’t explain, but it had been simmering beneath the surface from the moment you two had met.

You should say no. You should walk away, like you always did.

But instead, you found herself meeting his gaze head-on, searching his face for any sign of the arrogant playboy you’d convinced yourself he was. But all you saw was sincerity. And that was what made you hesitate.

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms tighter. “But one wrong word, I’m gone.”

His smile was instant, warm, and more genuine than you’d ever seen. “Deal.”

ynpiastri

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 31,437 others

alllllcoooolllllhol es muy bueno

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The bar is dimly lit, tucked away in a quiet corner of the resort. Normally, you’d appreciate the calm atmosphere, but tonight, you can’t shake the nervous energy running through you. You don’t know why you agreed to this—sitting across from him, sipping drinks as if you aren’t the same person who publicly can’t stand him.

Franco leaned back in his chair, watching you with that same relaxed expression that always makes your pulse quicken, though you’d never admit it. “So, you’re telling me you’ve never been surfing?” His voice is casual, like this is the most normal conversation in the world.

You shrug, swirling your drink in your hand, trying to act unaffected. “We’re a racing family.”

He grins, eyes never leaving yours. “I’ll have to take you sometime. I bet you’d be a natural.”

That teasing tone, the cocky smile—it should annoy you. It does annoy you. But there’s something different tonight. He’s not playing for an audience, not trying to rile you up like usual. It feels… real. And that’s what unnerves you the most.

“You think I’d take surfing lessons from you? You think I’d voluntarily hang out with you again?” you quip, raising an eyebrow, trying to regain some control over the situation.

“Absolutely. And you’d love every minute of it.”

You roll your eyes, but even as you do, you feel a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. When did this become easy? When did you start enjoying his company?

You take a long sip of your drink, trying to steady yourself. You shouldn’t feel this way. You’re supposed to dislike him. He’s supposed to be the cocky new driver who replaced Logan, the guy you roast on social media. So why is your heart racing?

“Are you okay?” His voice cuts through your thoughts, softer now.

You blink, realising you’ve been staring at the glass in your hand. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter, setting it down.

But he’s still looking at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to read your mind. And for the first time, you don’t know if you can hide behind your usual sarcasm. He’s seeing through your defences, and that terrifies you.

“Listen,” he says, his voice low, almost gentle, “if this is weird for you, you can leave. No pressure.”

Your heart skips at the way he says your name, like it means something more than just another person in his world. Vulnerability flashes in his eyes, and you hate that it makes you feel something, something you’ve been trying to ignore.

You’re about to make a snappy comeback, to brush it off like always, but instead, you just sit there, staring at him. The space between you feels too small, the air thick with an unspoken tension.

Then a thought came to the front of your mind, was he going to kiss you?

The thought sends a jolt through your system. You should pull back, say something snarky, shut this down before it goes any further. But you don’t move. And neither does he.

The tension is electric now, crackling between you like a live wire. He leans in, just slightly, enough for you to feel the heat of his presence, and you realise—so do you. You’re leaning in, too. Your heart is racing, your breath shallow. You can feel the moment hanging there, fragile, on the edge of something you’re not sure you’re ready for. You’re ready to blame the alcohol but you hadn’t even finished your first drink.

And then, just as the space between you is about to disappear, a voice shatters the moment like a glass breaking.

“Oh my god Franco! Can I get a selfie with you?”

The interruption hits you like a bucket of cold water. You jerk back, blinking as you realise there’s someone standing beside the table—a girl, wide-eyed and holding up her phone, looking at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon.

He glances at her, clearly surprised, but quickly recovers with that easy charm of his. For a second, the connection between you snaps, and the intensity of the moment is gone.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he says, smiling at the fan. “Just give me a second.”

You lean back in your seat, trying to get a grip on yourself. Your heart is still racing, and you feel the ghost of what almost happened hanging in the air. You hadn’t realised how close you’d come to crossing that line until the moment was interrupted. And now that it’s gone, you don’t know how to feel. Relieved? Maybe. But there’s a part of you—a part you hate to admit—that’s disappointing.

He turns back to you, his face apologetic, as if he knows exactly what you’re feeling.

“I’ll be right back,” he says softly, standing up to take the photo.

You watch as he poses with the fan, your heart still thudding in your chest. The moment between you lingers in the air, but now, with the interruption, it’s slipping away. And you’re not sure if you want it back or if you’re relieved it’s gone.

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the end.

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