I Need Himmmmmmm

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

got whiplash seeing this on here but 🤭

let me put you guys on the greatest tom riddle fanfiction i have ever read for free

they should both reach for the gun and pop her ass

CHICAGO PT.3 | OP81

an: I LIED IT'LL BE FOUR PARTS IM HOOKED ON WRITING THIS STORY RAHHHH. POSTING THIS BEFORE BED TIME AND IM SO AHHHHHHHHHH!

wc: 6k

warnings: panic attack

part one | part two |

Oscar sat in the half-lit quiet of his apartment, a glass of whiskey in hand, its amber warmth forgotten in his grip. His laptop sat open on the coffee table, displaying emails he hadn’t touched in hours, their urgency faded into the background noise of his thoughts. It had been weeks since the conversation with Lando in the driver’s room, but the memory of it lingered in his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

He’d done everything he could to bury the unsettling thoughts since then. Her voice, her soft reassurances, had done their job—at least temporarily. She had always known how to pull him back, how to soothe the churning inside him with just a few words. But now, in the stillness of his apartment, with no race day adrenaline to distract him, the questions began to rise again, clawing at the back of his mind.

A sharp knock on the door broke his spiral of thoughts. Oscar blinked, dragging himself back into the present. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and for a brief moment, a flicker of irritation sparked. He wasn’t in the mood for company. But then he heard Logan’s familiar voice from the other side, jovial and carefree.

“Oscar, buddy, open up!”

With a reluctant sigh, Oscar stood up, downing the rest of his whiskey in one swallow before heading to the door. He opened it to find Logan grinning, holding a six-pack of beer in one hand.

“Thought I’d drop by, see what you’ve been up to,” Logan said as he strolled inside without waiting for an invitation, clearly comfortable in the space. “Figured you’d be brooding alone in here.”

“Is that what people think of me now?” Oscar asked with a wry smile, trying to keep the mood light. He closed the door behind Logan, though his earlier unease hadn’t fully left him.

Logan plopped down on the couch, dropping the beer on the table and cracking one open for himself. “Well, you’ve been a bit... distant since Chicago, haven’t you?” He took a long swig of his beer, then set it down. “But that’s why I’m here. Thought I’d snap you out of it.”

Oscar forced a laugh and sat down next to him, trying to ignore the twist in his gut. “Yeah, just a lot on my plate lately.”

Logan nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I get it. The season’s brutal this year. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Feels like it,” Oscar muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

There was a brief silence, broken only by the quiet hum of the city outside, and for a moment, it felt almost comfortable—almost. Oscar reached for another drink, but Logan spoke up before he could get lost in his thoughts again.

“Oh, right. Meant to tell you,” Logan started, his tone casual but carrying that hint of intrigue that meant he was about to drop something interesting. “I overheard something at the paddock the other day. Lando and Max were having a chat.”

The mention of Lando’s name made Oscar tense, though he hid it behind a quick sip of his drink. He hadn’t seen much of Lando since that conversation about his girlfriend. He’d avoided him, telling himself it was just the busyness of the season, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

“What about?” Oscar asked, trying to sound casual, though his pulse had quickened.

“They were talking about their girlfriends,” Logan said, leaning back on the couch with a grin, clearly amused by the gossip. “Apparently, Lando’s thinking of bringing his girlfriend to the track on Thursday. You know, letting her kid meet Max’s girlfriend’s kid.”

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat. Her kid. He hadn’t realised Lando had gotten serious enough with his girlfriend to talk about bringing her child to the paddock. The idea of it—a girlfriend and her child, meeting other drivers’ families—felt like something out of a life he couldn’t quite touch.

“Her kid?” Oscar repeated, forcing his voice to stay even.

“Yeah,” Logan continued, seemingly oblivious to the shift in Oscar’s mood. “Lando’s girlfriend has a son. Seven years old, I think he said. Leo.”

The name hit Oscar like a punch to the gut, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air thicker. Leo. Too close. Too close to Lea. The same age, too. His mind reeled as he tried to process the information.

Leo and Lea. Two names that were now spiralling around his mind, refusing to leave him alone.

“Leo?” Oscar echoed, his throat tight, his hands suddenly clammy.

“Yeah, that’s what Lando said,” Logan confirmed, oblivious to Oscar’s growing panic. “Funny coincidence, huh? I thought of your girl when I heard it. Her daughter’s name is Lea, right?”

Oscar’s stomach churned, the whiskey doing nothing to steady his nerves now. The resemblance between the names—between their situations—was too striking to ignore. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his mind was racing.

“Yeah... Lea,” he muttered, barely able to get the word out.

Logan leaned forward, reaching for another beer, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside Oscar. “Weird how those names are so close, isn’t it? Leo and Lea. Both seven. But hey, probably just one of those things, right? What are the chances?”

What are the chances? Oscar’s mind latched onto that phrase, replaying it over and over as the conversation with Lando echoed in his head. The pieces were there, and now they were beginning to slot into place, no matter how much he wanted to resist it.

Lando had mentioned meeting her a year ago—in America. She had told him about her life in Chicago, about her daughter Lea, seven years old, and raising her alone. But Lando had spoken about Leo, not Lea. A son, not a daughter. That had been the difference that had made Oscar dismiss the thought when Lando first talked about it. But now, with that name echoing in his mind, Oscar could no longer ignore the similarities.

His grip tightened around his glass, fingers digging into the smooth surface as he fought to keep his composure. Could it be her? Could she be Lando’s girlfriend?

The idea seemed absurd, but the doubt was already there, a seed that had been planted and was now sprouting, twisting its roots deep into his mind.

He replayed every moment he’d spent with her, every conversation, every look, every touch. She’d been so convincing, so sincere—or at least, that’s what he had wanted to believe. But now, with this new information, everything felt tainted. Every memory of her seemed to carry an undertone of manipulation, of deception.

He could feel the ground beneath him shifting, the stability he’d clung to for weeks slipping away. His thoughts spiralled, racing between disbelief and bitter realisation.

Logan seemed to sense something off now, watching Oscar with a puzzled expression. “You alright, mate? You’ve gone quiet.”

Oscar forced a tight smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”

Logan shrugged, unfazed, as he stood up and stretched. “Well, don’t think too hard. Could be nothing, just me connecting dots that aren’t there. I mean, you and Lando have different types. Probably just a coincidence.”

“Yeah... probably,” Oscar said, his voice strained.

Logan gave him a friendly pat on the back. “Alright, I’ll head out. You should come out with us tomorrow night, clear your head. Don’t let all this racing stuff get to you.”

Oscar nodded absently, barely hearing him. “Yeah, maybe.”

Logan grabbed his jacket and headed to the door, giving Oscar one last wave before disappearing down the hallway.

The moment the door closed, Oscar was left alone with his thoughts, the silence of the apartment now feeling oppressive. He sank back down onto the couch, his head swimming with a confusion he couldn’t shake.

Could it really be her? Could she have been playing him all this time?

He glanced down at his phone, which lay on the coffee table next to the empty whiskey glass. His fingers itched to pick it up, to call her, to ask her outright if she was lying to him. But what would he even say? He couldn’t just accuse her out of the blue, not without sounding paranoid. And yet, the thought gnawed at him, relentless.

Oscar grabbed his phone, staring at her name in his contacts, his thumb hovering over the screen. Leo. Lea. His head spun with the possibilities, the connections that seemed too close to ignore.

But even as the doubt filled his mind, there was still a part of him that resisted it, clinging to the version of her he knew. The woman he had fallen for. The woman who had whispered sweet promises into his ear, made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t in years. Could that all have been a lie?

His thumb hovered over her name, the phone feeling heavier in his hand than ever before.

For the first time since meeting her, Oscar didn’t press call.

The hours had come and gone and Oscar couldn’t remember getting into bed, but he could remember ever minute he’d spent staring up at his ceiling. It was well past midnight, but sleep had evaded him completely. He hadn't been able to shake the conversation with Logan earlier that evening—the way the name Leo had echoed in his mind, digging into his subconscious, unsettling everything he thought he knew about her.

Leo. Too close to Lea. Too close to her.

He picked up his phone from the nightstand, his fingers moving almost without thought. The list of contacts blurred slightly as his thumb hovered over Lando’s name. He hadn’t spoken to him since their conversation weeks ago unless he had to for work, and despite every instinct telling him not to, Oscar needed answers. He couldn’t let this nagging doubt fester any longer. He needed to know if his suspicions—wild as they seemed—held any weight.

Hey mate, need to talk before the race. You free tomorrow?

He stared at the message, hesitating for a moment before pressing send. The little blue bubble appeared, sitting in the chat like an uncomfortable reminder that he was waiting for something—anything—to help ease his mind. But the longer he waited, the more the silence gnawed at him. Minutes passed, the absence of a response amplifying his anxiety.

Oscar sighed, his thumb tapping on the screen again, this time scrolling down to her name. He stared at her name for a long moment, remembering the way her voice had soothed him so many times before. She'll tell me I'm being ridiculous. She’d laugh softly, maybe tease him for worrying over nothing. She always knew how to calm him down, how to make him forget everything else. He could almost hear her voice in his head.

He typed quickly.

I miss your voice. Can we talk?

He pressed send, staring at the screen as if willing the message to deliver. Seconds ticked by, then a minute, and his heart began to pound when he realised the message hadn’t gone through. Message not delivered. He frowned, watching the error sign blink back at him.

That’s strange.

Oscar tried again, but the message still didn’t deliver. His mind raced through possible explanations. Maybe her phone was off, or she was somewhere without service. She did mention a work trip soon, he thought, trying to rationalise it. It wasn’t the first time her phone had been out of reach for a few hours. He could almost hear her brushing it off when she eventually called him back, laughing about poor reception or how busy she had been.

Still, something about it didn’t sit right with him. He stared at his phone, a sinking feeling growing in his chest. Lando wasn’t responding either. The creeping doubt Logan had stirred earlier began to crawl its way back, more persistent now, digging deeper into his thoughts.

What if...

Oscar quickly shut that thought down. He wasn’t going to drive himself insane with these suspicions. He’d seen this before—the paranoia that came with the pressure of the sport, the constant overthinking. This was just another bout of that, amplified by stress. He was exhausted, running on fumes, and his mind was playing tricks on him. He just needed rest.

I’m overthinking it, he told himself, forcing the words into the forefront of his mind like a mantra. I’m just tired, and everything looks worse when you’re this exhausted.

He set his phone down, determined to let it go. He’d see Lando tomorrow anyway, and she would probably call him back when she was free. There was no point in losing sleep over this, not when he had a full day of media obligations ahead of him. He’d wake up, do what needed to be done, and this would all seem ridiculous in the light of day.

With a heavy sigh, Oscar pulled the duvet over himself and closed his eyes. The cool fabric of the pillow pressed against his cheek as he tried to settle into the bed, but his mind wouldn’t stop buzzing with a million thoughts.

It’s nothing. Stop overthinking it.

But as he lay there, the city’s hum outside his window, the quiet tick of the clock on the wall, and the nagging unease in his gut refused to go away. Every now and then, his eyes would flicker open, glancing at the phone on the nightstand. Every time, it stayed still. Silent. No messages from her. No response from Lando.

Oscar swallowed hard, turning over again, trying to focus on anything else. Tomorrow will clear everything up. He just had to make it to tomorrow.

Eventually, sleep found him, though it was a restless, uneasy kind of sleep, filled with fractured dreams and half-formed thoughts he couldn’t quite remember when he woke up. But the feeling lingered, hanging over him like a storm cloud.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it brought no comfort. He reached for his phone the moment he opened his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping to find some kind of response waiting for him.

But there was nothing.

No reply from Lando. No message from her.

Oscar exhaled sharply, pushing himself out of bed. It’s just one of those things. He had a long day ahead of him, and there was no use in letting his thoughts run wild. He had to focus, get his head back in the game. Just keep going.

He threw on his clothes and readied himself for the day ahead, steeling his nerves for what he hoped would be just another ordinary day. I’ll see them both soon, he thought as he left his apartment, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that followed him like a shadow.

By the time Oscar got to the paddock it was already buzzing with activity as Oscar arrived, the hum of engines, conversations, and the occasional clatter of tools filling the air. He should’ve felt at home here—among the smell of burning rubber, the organised chaos of race day preparations. But today, it all felt distant. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in an unsettling fog of thoughts he’d been trying to shake since the night before.

He adjusted the collar of his team jacket, trying to focus, but the weight of the unease from the night before lingered. No message from her. No word from Lando. He hadn’t been able to ignore the growing knot of doubt, but he had convinced himself this morning that it was nothing. Just a coincidence. It had to be.

As he walked down the main paddock lane, making his way toward the media zone, his phone buzzed in his pocket. His heart leapt for a moment—maybe it was her—but when he glanced down, it was just another email, something about the team briefing later. He sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket, forcing himself to focus on the day ahead.

But then, something caught his eye.

At first, it was nothing more than a flash of red—the colour of a jacket, a familiar silhouette standing just on the edge of the paddock near the Mclaren Hospitality Tent. His eyes narrowed, and his breath caught in his throat as his gaze sharpened. Even from this distance, he could recognize the way she stood, her posture, the easy grace with which she moved. It was her.

She was here.

For a moment, a wave of relief washed over him, a soft smile tugging at his lips. His heart quickened—not with the anxiety of the past few days but with the warmth he always felt when he thought of her. She’s here. Maybe she had come to surprise him. Maybe everything would finally make sense.

His pace quickened as he moved toward her, anticipation swelling in his chest. But as he got closer, something shifted. His smile faltered when he saw someone else approaching her—a man.

Lando.

Oscar  stopped dead in his tracks, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He watched as Lando strode up to her with that same casual confidence he always had, his face lighting up when he saw her. And then, as if the universe was mocking him, Lando leaned down and kissed her.

Oscar  felt the world tilt beneath him.

It wasn’t just a casual kiss, not the kind you give in passing. It was intimate, familiar. The kind of kiss shared by lovers, by people who had spent more than fleeting moments together. Oscar 's breath hitched in his throat as the truth hit him all at once—hard and unforgiving.

Lando's girlfriend. Lando's Leo.

She wasn’t just some distant thought anymore, someone he could call and pretend everything was fine with. She was standing right here, in front of him, in this world that had always belonged to him—and Lando.

Oscar ’s mouth went dry, his pulse hammering in his ears, but it wasn’t over. As if the universe wasn’t done ripping apart the fragile web he had tried to spin for himself, he saw a small boy run toward Lando, his laugh carrying on the wind.

The boy was maybe seven, with light brown hair, bright eyes, and a familiar lilt to his voice. Leo. The name thundered in Oscar ’s mind, each syllable more brutal than the last.

Oscar ’s world stopped.

He watched, frozen, as the boy ran to Lando, and Lando crouched down to scoop him up in an embrace, grinning widely. Lando ruffled the boy’s hair, saying something Oscar  couldn’t hear from where he stood, but it didn’t matter. He could see everything he needed to know. Lando wasn’t just playing the role of a stand-in or a casual boyfriend—he was in this, fully, deeply. This was a life. Their life.

Oscar ’s breath came in shallow, ragged bursts as the full weight of it all crashed down on him. She wasn’t just with Lando. She had a whole other life with him. A life that included a child—a child he had heard so much about from her, though she had called him by another name. Lea had become Leo, and everything Oscar  had thought he knew was a lie.

His mind reeled as he tried to piece together how long this had been going on. How long she had been playing them both. Weeks? Months? The entire time he had known her? How many nights had she soothed him with her voice, made him believe he was special to her, while she was building this life with someone else?

His hands trembled as he stood there, watching them interact like a family. She had her arm wrapped around Lando’s waist now, smiling up at him in a way that made Oscar ’s stomach churn. She looked at Lando with that same softness, that same vulnerability that had made Oscar fall for her in the first place.

How could I have been so blind? The thought ripped through him, bitter and sharp. Every moment with her replayed in his mind now, but with a new, ugly clarity. The subtle evasions, the too-perfect explanations, the way she’d disappear for days at a time, only to come back with a sweet excuse. He had ignored it all, let himself believe she was everything he wanted her to be because he had been desperate to feel something again.

The paddock noise swirled around him, the laughter, the chatter of mechanics, the distant rumble of engines. But all of it faded into the background as his eyes locked on her and Lando.

For the first time, Oscar  didn’t feel the familiar rush of race day energy. There was no excitement, no focus on the task at hand. All he felt was a gnawing sense of betrayal, an emptiness that spread through his chest like ice. He had been so utterly hooked on her, had built this fantasy around her in his mind, and now, that fantasy was crumbling before his very eyes.

Without realising it, he had taken a step backward, then another, retreating from the sight in front of him. His mind screamed at him to confront her, to demand answers, but his body refused to move. He wasn’t sure what was worse—the betrayal itself or the realisation that he hadn’t seen it coming.

As he turned and walked away, the weight of it all pressing down on him, he felt as if he were walking through molasses, his legs heavy, his breath shallow. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but he knew now that there was nothing left to ask. Everything was laid bare before him.

He had fallen for her, believed her, let her into the deepest parts of himself. And all the while, she had been building something else, something real, with someone else.

He thought back to that night he had first met her in Chicago, that intoxicating smile, the softness in her eyes when she talked about her daughter. And now, standing here in the aftermath, he saw it for what it had been all along—a performance.

Oscar had been nothing more than a passing act in her show, and now the curtain had fallen.

Oscar didn’t know how far he had walked. His legs moved mechanically, one foot in front of the other, carrying him away from the scene that had shattered him. The sound of laughter, engines, and the bustling paddock faded into the background as a growing numbness took over. His hands were shaking, and his chest tightened with each breath, the weight of it all sinking in.

He stumbled around a corner, finding himself in a quiet service alley behind the team garages, where crates and equipment were stacked in neat rows. The world felt distant, blurred at the edges, and the air felt too thin. He leaned against the cold metal of a container, his breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

I can’t breathe.

His mind raced, the images of her and Lando flashing like daggers in his thoughts. Her smile, her lies, the little boy running to Lando—it all collided in his head, creating a vortex of disbelief and betrayal. His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, erratic beat that refused to slow. His vision started to blur, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

Get a grip. But the command felt impossible. His lungs wouldn’t fill with air, his thoughts were spinning out of control, and the walls of the alley seemed to close in around him.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching, but they sounded distant, like they were coming through a fog. Before he could react, a familiar voice cut through the haze.

"Oscar?" It was Logan.

Oscar tried to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat. He couldn’t even lift his head to meet Logan’s gaze. His body trembled, his hands clutching at the front of his jacket as if trying to hold himself together.

“Mate, what the hell—are you okay?” Logan’s voice was sharp with concern as he rushed to his side, grabbing Oscar by the shoulders. He crouched down, his face close, searching Oscar's eyes for any sign of response. But Oscar could only shake his head, his breaths coming faster and more ragged.

“I—I can’t—” Oscar gasped, his voice barely a whisper. The pressure in his chest was unbearable, like he was suffocating under the weight of everything that had just happened. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight back the panic, but it overwhelmed him.

“Hey, hey, breathe with me. Focus on me. Slow down,” Logan urged, his voice calm but firm. He placed a hand on Oscar’s chest, matching the rise and fall of his shallow breaths. “In. Out. Come on, slow it down.”

Oscar tried to follow Logan’s instructions, his chest rising in shallow, broken attempts. Each inhale felt like a battle, but Logan’s steady voice anchored him, pulling him out of the spiralling panic. Slowly, painfully, his breathing began to slow, and the fog in his mind lifted just enough for him to focus on the present moment.

“Good. Keep going. You’re okay,” Logan murmured, keeping his hand on Oscar’s shoulder, steadying him.

It felt like hours passed before Oscar could breathe properly again, the tightness in his chest easing ever so slightly. His hands were still trembling, but his mind had slowed enough to process what had just happened. The panic still lingered, like a storm waiting on the horizon, but at least for now, he could breathe.

Logan stayed crouched beside him, his brow furrowed with concern. “What the hell happened? You looked fine earlier. What’s going on?”

Oscar swallowed hard, his throat dry. He didn’t know where to begin. How could he even explain this? How could he put into words the chaos that had just upended everything he thought he knew?

“Logan…” His voice was hoarse, raw from the struggle to breathe. “It’s… it’s her.”

Logan’s face shifted from concern to confusion. “The girl from Chicago? What about her?”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. His voice cracked as he spoke, the words tumbling out in a broken rush. “She… she’s with Lando. I just—God, I just saw them. They were together, and there’s a kid—Leo. She told me she had a daughter, but… but that’s her son, Logan. That’s her son.”

Logan’s eyes widened, shock flashing across his face as he took in Oscar’s words. “Wait, what? Lando? And—Jesus. What?”

Oscar nodded, his stomach turning as he relived the moment he had seen them together. “I didn’t know, Logan. I had no idea. She never told me. She’s been playing me this whole time. And Lando, he… he doesn’t know. He has no idea.”

Logan was silent for a moment, his jaw tight as he processed what Oscar was saying. “And you’re sure it’s the same girl?”

“Positive. I saw them together,” Oscar said, his voice thick with disbelief. “She was with Lando, and the kid… I just—I can’t believe it. She’s been lying to both of us. I don’t even know how long it’s been going on.”

Logan let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Shit, mate. That’s… that’s messed up. How the hell did she pull this off? You’ve been with her for—what, months?”

“Since Chicago,” Oscar muttered, his hands clenched into fists. The anger was rising now, replacing the panic with a burning sense of betrayal. “She’s been playing me for months, Logan. And the worst part is, Lando doesn’t know. He’s out there thinking he’s got a family with her, and she’s just… she’s been lying to him too.”

Logan rubbed his face, clearly at a loss for words. “Mate, this is… this is bad. You need to talk to Lando. He deserves to know what’s going on.”

Oscar shook his head, his throat tightening again. “I don’t even know how to start that conversation. How am I supposed to tell him that the woman he’s in love with has been stringing me along for months?”

“I know it’s hard, but he deserves the truth,” Logan said gently. “He’s your teammate. You owe it to him to tell him what you know.”

Oscar let out a long, shaky breath. Deep down, he knew Logan was right. Lando deserved the truth. But the idea of confronting him, of shattering the life Lando thought he had with her—it felt impossible. How could he do that to someone he cared about?

“How do I even begin?” Oscar whispered, more to himself than to Logan.

“You just do. Lando deserves to hear it from you, not from anyone else,” Logan said firmly. “Trust me, the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to get. You need to talk to him before this whole thing blows up even worse.”

Oscar nodded, though the thought made his chest tighten again. He knew Logan was right. He had to face this. He had to talk to Lando. Even if it meant tearing down the life Lando thought he had built.

“Okay,” Oscar said quietly. “I’ll talk to him. Before the race.”

Logan gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing, mate. You’ve got this.”

But as Oscar stood there, still trembling from the panic and the weight of the truth pressing down on him, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to face what was coming next.

Before the race Oscar stood outside Lando’s driver room, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through his chest. His palms were clammy, his breath shaky, and his mind was racing with every possible way this conversation could go wrong. He had rehearsed it a hundred times since Logan found him—how he would explain everything, how he’d try to soften the blow. But now, standing here, the weight of it all felt unbearable.

His hand hovered over the door for a moment, hesitation gripping him. What if Lando didn’t believe him? What if he got angry? Oscar wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the storm that was about to hit.

He deserves the truth. You have to do this.

Taking a deep breath, Oscar knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately, and there stood Lando, already dressed in his race suit, looking every bit the calm, collected driver he always was before a race. But today, Oscar could see the excitement in his eyes, the eagerness. It made his stomach turn.

“Oscar, mate! What’s up?” Lando asked, grinning. He stepped back, motioning for Oscar to come inside. “You ready for the big day?”

Oscar forced a smile, though it felt weak and awkward. He stepped inside, the air thick with tension he wasn’t sure Lando could feel yet. The motorhome was quiet, the sound of the paddock fading into the background as the door shut behind him.

“Yeah, uh… about that…” Oscar started, his voice already cracking under the weight of what he was about to say. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his heart thudding against his ribs. “I need to talk to you. About something serious.”

Lando’s smile faltered just a little, his brow furrowing. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling the nerves coil tight in his chest. This was it. No turning back.

“It’s about your girlfriend,” Oscar said, his voice barely above a whisper. The name hit the air like a bomb, and Lando’s face immediately darkened.

“My girlfriend?” Lando repeated, his expression shifting to confusion. “What about her?”

Oscar hesitated, feeling the weight of every word that was about to come out of his mouth. His throat was dry, and he suddenly wished he had some water, something to buy more time. But there was no time. It had to be now.

“I… I didn’t know she was with you,” Oscar said, the words coming out in a rush. “I didn’t know she was your girlfriend. Lando, I’ve been—God, I’ve been seeing her. She never told me about you.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Lando’s eyes narrowed as the meaning of Oscar’s words sank in, his confusion giving way to something darker—anger.

“You’ve been what?” Lando’s voice was low, dangerous, a tone Oscar had never heard from him before. “You’ve been seeing her?”

Oscar held up his hands, trying to keep his own panic in check. “I swear, I didn’t know, mate. I didn’t know she was with you. She told me she was single, raising her kid on her own. I had no idea you were with her. Not until I saw you together today.”

Lando took a step back, his face twisted in disbelief and fury. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in the small space, his movements sharp, agitated. “Are you telling me you’ve been with her this whole time? The whole time we’ve been together?”

Oscar nodded, feeling like the ground beneath him was about to give way. “I didn’t know,” he repeated, his voice shaky. “I met her in Chicago months ago. She told me she had a daughter, that she was a single mum. I thought… I thought I was helping her.”

Lando let out a harsh laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Helping her? You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s been with me for a year! She’s been my girlfriend, Oscar. What the hell were you thinking?”

Oscar winced, the guilt tightening around his chest. “I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was just… I was hooked on her. She had me completely fooled.”

Lando’s face was a mask of rage now, his fists clenched at his sides as if he were holding himself back from hitting something—or someone. “You’re telling me this now, before the race? What the hell am I supposed to do with this, Oscar?”

“I’m sorry,” Oscar said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to tell you, but you deserve to know. I had no idea she was with you. I only put it together when Logan mentioned Leo—her son.”

Lando stopped pacing, his face going pale at the mention of Leo. “Leo?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, Oscar saw something other than anger in his friend’s eyes—something like fear. “Who told you his name was Leo?”

Oscar nodded, swallowing hard not knowing how to navigate this topic any further. “She told me she had a daughter named Lea.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, like the eye of a storm. Then, slowly, Lando sat down on the edge of the small bed, his head in his hands. Oscar stood frozen, unsure of what to do, unsure if he should say more or just leave.

“She played us both, didn’t she?” Lando muttered, his voice hoarse, filled with disbelief. “She’s been playing me this whole time.”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, nodding, though he still couldn’t fully believe it himself. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I think she has.”

Lando shook his head, his fingers running through his hair in frustration. “I should’ve known something was off. She always had these excuses, always disappearing for days at a time. I thought she was just… I don’t know, giving me space. Or with her kid. But now? Now it all makes sense.”

Oscar sat down across from him, the weight of the truth settling heavily between them. “I should’ve seen it too. But I was too caught up in her. I wanted to believe her so badly that I didn’t question anything.”

They sat in silence for a long time, both of them grappling with the betrayal, with the web of lies she had spun so carefully around them. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it was no longer directed at each other. They had both been played, both drawn into her orbit without realising they weren’t the only ones.

“What are we going to do?” Lando finally asked, his voice flat, almost numb.

Oscar shook his head, still unsure. “I don’t know. But we can’t let her keep doing this.”

Lando clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening as he stared at the floor. “You’re right. She’s not getting away with this. Not anymore.”

Oscar nodded in agreement, but his heart was still heavy. The woman he had fallen for, the woman he had trusted, had betrayed him in the worst way possible. But it wasn’t just about him anymore. Lando was hurting too, and that made it all the more unbearable.

As the weight of their conversation settled into the room, Oscar felt a slow, creeping nausea rise in his chest. It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was the realisation that this wasn’t some accident—this wasn’t some chance encounter where they’d both been caught off guard by the same woman. No. She had known exactly what she was doing.

He stared at the floor, the memories flooding back in sharp, painful clarity. The first night in Chicago, the way she had appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to him with that effortless grace, that smile that had seemed too good to be true. The way she’d known exactly how to draw him in, offering just the right amount of vulnerability to make him want to protect her. All those months, he’d thought it had been fate, a serendipitous meeting. But now, with Lando sitting across from him, every detail took on a darker shade.

“Lando…” Oscar’s voice cracked, barely able to say the words. “She knew about me, didn’t she? From the beginning.”

Lando looked up, his eyes still clouded with shock but now narrowing as if trying to piece together the puzzle himself. “What do you mean?”

Oscar took a shaky breath. “You’ve mentioned me to her, haven’t you? Before I even met her in Chicago, you must have talked about me. About the team. She… she knew who I was before she ever sat down next to me at that bar.”

Lando’s face paled. His gaze shifted to the floor, his mind working through the same awful revelation that had struck Oscar. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. I mentioned you all the time. You’re one of my best mates. Of course, I talked about you.”

It was like a punch to the gut. Oscar’s stomach turned as he recalled every little interaction with her—the way she’d seemed to know exactly what to say, how to flatter him without being too obvious, how to make him feel like he was the one discovering her, unravelling her layers. But it was all calculated. She’d had him pegged from the moment she walked in, likely before that.

“She didn’t just randomly pick the seat next to me at the bar,” Oscar said, his voice low, thick with bitterness. “She knew exactly who I was, Lando. She played us both from the start.”

Lando sat there, silent, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at his hands. His fingers twitched like he wanted to punch something, anything, but he stayed still, the tension simmering just below the surface. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

“She’s been manipulating both of us,” he muttered, his voice a growl of disbelief. “I told her about my life. My friends. My job. And all that time… she was using it against me. Against you.”

The full scope of her deception crashed down on Oscar. He felt sick to his core. She’d never cared. Every sweet word, every glance, every night they’d spent together—it had all been part of her plan. She had known exactly who he was and had targeted him, exploited his loneliness, his vulnerability.

The first time they had kissed, that electric moment in her apartment, had seemed so real. He could still feel the warmth of her hands on his skin, the way her lips moved against his as if they had been made for each other. But now it felt cheap. Hollow. A lie that had wrapped itself around him until he could barely breathe.

"She must have known everything about me before she even introduced herself," Oscar continued, his voice darkening with anger. “That night at the bar, the way she played coy, like she didn’t know me from Mclaren. It was all an act. A setup.”

Lando was silent for a moment, still staring at the floor. Then, slowly, he looked up at Oscar, his expression hard. “She probably knew exactly how to make you fall for her. She listened to me talk about you enough. Your hobbies, your career, your life. She had every piece of ammunition she needed.”

Oscar could feel his pulse quickening again, a sick mix of rage and humiliation rising in his throat. She hadn’t just lied—she had orchestrated everything with precision, knowing full well how to ensnare him. And the worst part? He had let her. He had fallen for every carefully laid trap.

"She played the long game," Oscar whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I thought… I thought it was real. I thought she was real.”

“I did too,” Lando muttered bitterly. He let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to shake off the disgust that was settling over him. “God, how could we have been so blind?”

Oscar swallowed hard, the bitterness turning into something darker, more dangerous. He could picture her face so clearly—those dark, hypnotic eyes that had drawn him in from the very beginning, the way she tilted her head just enough to make him think she was letting her guard down for him. And all along, she had been playing him like a violin, hitting every note perfectly.

“She knew what she was doing,” Oscar said, his voice thick with fury. “She knew exactly what she was doing, Lando. She was never confused. Never torn. She set us both up like pieces on a chessboard.”

Lando’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening as he nodded in agreement. “She knew how to make us feel like we were the ones in control, like we were helping her. But she was pulling the strings the whole time.”

They both sat in silence, the weight of their shared betrayal settling into the room like a storm cloud. Neither of them spoke for what felt like minutes, both of them lost in the horrible realisation of just how thoroughly they’d been manipulated.

“I can’t believe it,” Lando finally said, his voice hollow. “I can’t believe she was capable of this.”

Oscar shook his head slowly, the ache in his chest deepening. “I guess people like her… they don’t care who they hurt, as long as they get what they want.”

And that was the bitter truth. She had never cared about either of them. She had only cared about what she could take, what she could gain. And they had both been too blind, too caught up in her web to see it.

“What do we do now?” Lando asked, his voice a mixture of anger and defeat.

Oscar didn’t have an answer. His whole world felt like it had been ripped apart, every certainty he had stripped away. He didn’t know what came next. But one thing was clear— She wasn’t going to walk away from this unscathed.

“We tell her it’s over,” Oscar said firmly, though his heart ached even as he said it. “She doesn’t get to play us anymore.”

Lando nodded, his jaw set. “She’s not getting away with this.”

But even as they made their decision, Oscar couldn’t shake the feeling that the damage had already been done. He had given a part of himself to her that he couldn’t get back, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was all a lie, the hurt lingered like an open wound.

As they prepared to face her, Oscar couldn’t help but wonder how much of him had been taken in by her. How much of him was still trapped in that web she had spun so perfectly around him.

And whether he would ever truly be free of her.

part four

tag list: @iimplicitt @hearts4acemyluv @a-beaverhausen

CHAMPAGNE SHOWERS | OSCAR PIASTRI | 81

done by me; i can’t believe i get to see him race in person in austin 🤭 (manifesting i get to meet him)

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

*tap to load more comments*

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

this is gonna devastate me

CHICAGO PT.1 | OP81

an: i already know the girlies are going to hate me for this, i made oscar go through it this series ahhhhhhhhhhh im sorry

summary: he met her in chicago, she told him she didn't have a man, he got hooked.

wc: 4k

Oscar had met her in Chicago, of all places. The city sprawled beneath a sky that never seemed to settle, constantly shifting between grey and gold, as though unsure of its own identity. He hadn’t wanted to be there. Chicago was a detour, a necessary stop in a life too full of places he didn’t want to go. PR had dragged him into its windswept streets, ushering him toward events and dinners that blurred into a dull hum of names he would never remember.

But then there was her.

It happened at a cocktail event in some opulent hotel, a place where chandeliers dangled like stars over a sea of perfectly curated faces. The room was filled with a low murmur of voices, the clink of glasses, the thin veneer of sophistication that never quite reached beyond the surface. Oscar stood near the bar, fingers wrapped loosely around a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling as his thoughts drifted. He was already planning his escape when she appeared.

Not entered the room—appeared, as though the air had conjured her from nothingness. A figure dressed in shadows and light, with red lips like the first drop of blood on fresh snow, and eyes so dark they seemed to absorb the very space around her. She moved like silk caught in a breeze—fluid, graceful, with a purpose that was almost predatory, though there was nothing menacing in her gaze. No, she was hunting something, but it was subtle, wrapped in a smile that promised a thousand secrets.

“Do you mind?” she asked, her voice soft, lilting, a melody that barely stirred the air. She gestured to the empty stool beside him.

Oscar blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the smoothness of her arrival. It was as though she had been meant to be there all along, the final piece of a puzzle he hadn’t even realised was missing. Without a word, he motioned for her to sit, his whiskey forgotten, the glass now an anchor in his hand rather than a comfort.

Her name was imprinted into his mind. Her voice curled around the syllables, a name that felt like it should belong to someone in a faded photograph, or a character in a half-forgotten dream. When she smiled, it was the kind of smile that didn’t ask to be trusted, but made you want to trust it anyway. There was something so effortless in the way she carried herself, in the way she tilted her head just so, her hair brushing against her cheek as she spoke.

They began to talk, though talk wasn’t quite the right word. She led the conversation with a gentle ease, guiding it as if she were navigating a river, never pushing too hard, never revealing more than she wanted. Her voice wove stories of her life in Chicago, like threads pulled from a tapestry woven just for him. Her work as a designer, her life as a single mother—it was all laid out before him, but in pieces, fragments of a larger picture he couldn’t yet see, but wanted desperately to complete.

Then, she mentioned her daughter, and the mask shifted, just slightly. There, in her eyes he saw a softness, a flicker of something real, or at least something that felt real.

“She’s seven,” she said, her smile now tinged with a kind of wistfulness that made Oscar’s chest tighten. “Her name’s Lila. Smart as a whip. It’s just me and her, though. Doing it on my own.”

The words hung in the air between them, and for the briefest of moments, Oscar felt as though he were standing on the edge of something he couldn’t quite name. A single mother, raising her daughter in a city that never stopped moving, never stopped demanding more—it struck a chord in him, deep and resonant. There was something in her story that tugged at him, an invisible thread that wound tighter with every word she spoke.

She glanced up at him, her eyes catching the light in a way that made them seem endless, like dark pools that promised a depth he wasn’t sure he could navigate. But he wanted to. He wanted to know everything about her, to uncover the layers she kept just out of reach, to be the one who could offer her something more. More than just conversation. More than just sympathy.

“Must be tough,” Oscar murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent. There was something sacred in the way she spoke of her daughter, as if Lila was the only thing tethering her to the world, the anchor in her otherwise untethered existence.

She sighed, but it wasn’t the kind of sigh that begged for attention. It was subtle, almost delicate, the kind of resignation that comes from a practised weariness. The weight of her words was perfectly measured, enough to evoke sympathy, but never pity. She wasn’t asking for anything, not outright, and yet her silence spoke louder than anything else could.

“You get used to it,” she said, her voice like a thread pulled tight, thin but unbreaking. “But, yeah... sometimes it is.”

The way she said it, as though it were an afterthought, made Oscar’s heart twist. It was the kind of struggle that sounded too familiar, too real, and before he knew it, something had shifted in him. Something protective, something foolishly eager to offer help, to be the one who could ease that burden, even if only a little.

And that’s how she hooked him. Not with grand gestures or overt requests, but with the smallest, most intimate revelations. A look here, a sigh there. Each one perfectly placed, perfectly timed. She never needed to ask, because he offered before the words could form on her lips. And every time she smiled that secretive, knowing smile, he found himself falling deeper, wanting to believe that maybe—just maybe—he was the one who could change things for her.

Days slipped into weeks like sand through an hourglass, each encounter with her deepening the spell she cast over him. Chicago began to feel like a dreamscape where their paths intertwined, a place where his mundane existence blurred into a tapestry woven with her laughter and soft whispers.

They met in the city’s hidden corners—a quiet café tucked away from the bustling streets, a dimly lit bar where jazz music wrapped around them like a warm embrace. Each time Oscar saw her, the ache of attraction blossomed, rich and vibrant, filling him with a heady mixture of hope and longing. He often found himself stealing glances, wondering if she felt the same gravity toward him that he felt toward her.

But the deeper he fell, the more he sensed an undercurrent of mystery beneath her charm. It was subtle, a flicker in her gaze whenever her phone buzzed with a text she wouldn’t show him. Sometimes, he’d catch her staring out the window, her thoughts drifting away to somewhere he couldn’t follow.

One evening, they were at a secluded rooftop bar, the city sprawling below them like a sea of twinkling lights. The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, and for a moment, it felt like the world had paused just for them. Oscar had just shared a joke, one that made her laugh—a sound so genuine, it sent warmth coursing through him.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asked, his curiosity spilling over as they leaned closer, the space between them charged with something electric. He could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the scent of her perfume wrapping around him like a spell.

“Every day,” she replied, her eyes locking onto his, dark and mysterious. “But it’s hard to dream when you’re so busy living.”

Oscar studied her, captivated by the glimmer of vulnerability beneath her poised exterior. “What do you dream of?” he probed, leaning in, their faces inches apart, the world around them fading into a blur.

“I dream of freedom,” she confessed, a faint tremor in her voice. “The freedom to choose… to be whoever I want.” There was a momentary flicker in her eyes, an openness that invited him in, only to pull back just as quickly, like a candle’s flame flickering in the wind.

He couldn’t believe a woman like her was really into him. His mind raced, battling with the part of him that wanted to dismiss the notion. She was enchanting, sophisticated, everything he had ever wanted but never thought he could attain. In this moment, he felt like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to resist the allure, even as it threatened to consume him.

As if sensing his turmoil, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand, a fleeting touch that ignited the air between them. “You’re a good man, Oscar,” she whispered, her voice sultry, each word curling around him like smoke. “You make me feel… alive.”

That’s when he leaned in, the space between them collapsing into something more intimate. Their lips met, tentatively at first, the kiss igniting a spark that coursed through him like fire. She tasted like whiskey and wildflowers, sweet and intoxicating, and Oscar lost himself in the moment. Every worry, every doubt faded away as he kissed her deeper, his hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer as if to shield her from the world outside.

But in the back of his mind, a nagging voice whispered warnings he didn’t want to hear. He wondered if he was the only one, she never mentioned her daughter’s father but that wasn’t something he was sure he wanted to know. He didn’t want to spend his days comparing himself to the man that she loved. Sometimes he caught himself wondering what he was like, was he a friend? Was he carefree and cool? Was he everything that he wasn’t? Or was he just like him? The thought made him pull back, his heart pounding not just from desire but from confusion and fear.

“Is it just me?” he asked before he could stop himself, breathless, searching her eyes for a hint of truth.

Her smile faltered for just a moment, and in that instant, he saw the cracks in her facade. But then it was gone, replaced by that intoxicating allure. “You know it’s complicated, Osc. But I like being with you. You make me feel… special.”

The way she said it drew him in again, like a moth irresistibly fluttering toward the flame, unable to see the danger. Yet the ghost of uncertainty lingered, an unsettling reminder that she might not be who she appeared to be.

“Sometimes, it feels like there’s more,” he murmured, almost to himself, but she caught his gaze, holding it like a secret, her expression unreadable.

“Don’t think too much,” she said, her tone playful but layered with something else—something deeper. “Just enjoy what we have. It’s beautiful in its own way.”

As the night wore on and the stars blinked into existence above them, Oscar found himself caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The intoxicating rush of her presence, the warmth of her body so close to his, overshadowed the haunting doubts that flickered in the recesses of his mind.

The days after that rooftop kiss blurred together into a fever dream, a haze of her touch, her scent, the way her lips felt against his skin. Oscar found himself thinking about her constantly, her name echoing in his mind like a mantra. He checked his phone compulsively, waiting for her messages, craving her presence. Each time she called or texted, his heart leapt in a way that both excited and terrified him.

He couldn’t focus on work. Off season meetings passed by in a fog of half-formed strategies and distracted nods while he was still away from the city he was meant to be in. His mind was always elsewhere—trapped in the memory of her smile, the feel of her fingers brushing against his arm, the way she whispered his name late at night, in that low, intimate voice that sent shivers down his spine.

By the time she invited him over to her apartment, it felt like an invitation to a sanctuary. His heart raced as he climbed the stairs, each step heavy with anticipation. When she opened the door, it was like the world outside ceased to exist. She stood there, bathed in the dim light of her living room, wearing a simple black dress that clung to her in all the right places. Her eyes gleamed as she smiled at him, a smile that was more dangerous than any warning.

"Come in," she murmured, stepping back to let him inside.

Oscar didn’t need to be asked twice. He crossed the threshold and found himself in a space that smelled faintly of vanilla and something warm, something that reminded him of her. The apartment was quiet, cosy, but he barely noticed the surroundings. All he could see was her.

They sat on the couch, glasses of wine in hand, but conversation quickly slipped away. She leaned in, her body inches from his, and it took everything in him not to close the gap. He could feel the heat of her skin, the soft exhale of her breath against his neck as she leaned even closer, her lips brushing his ear.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, the words sending a jolt of electricity through him.

Oscar turned to her, his pulse quickening as their eyes met. Her face was inches from his, lips parted just slightly, as if daring him to close the distance. And he did. In one swift motion, his hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her toward him.

Their lips collided with a force that startled him, but he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. The kiss was deep, hungry, the pent-up tension of weeks of longing spilling over all at once. Her hands slid up his chest, nails grazing his skin through the fabric of his shirt, and he groaned softly, losing himself in the feel of her. Every touch, every movement seemed to ignite something primal in him, something he hadn’t known existed until she had awakened it.

She straddled him, her thighs pressing against his hips as she deepened the kiss, her body moulding to his in a way that made him dizzy. Oscar’s hands roamed over her back, her waist, pulling her closer, needing her closer. He kissed her like he was starved for her, and in a way, he was—starved for the taste of her, the feel of her, the way she seemed to fill every space inside him that had once been hollow.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire, his breath shallow. “I can’t stop thinking about you, angel.”

Because that was what she was, an angel, sent from heaven. Just for him.

Her lips curled into a smile as she nipped at his bottom lip, a soft, teasing bite that made him moan. “Good,” she whispered, her voice sultry, her fingers trailing down his chest, over the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them, one by one. “I like knowing I’m always on your mind.”

“You are,” Oscar breathed, his hands gripping her hips as she pressed against him, the heat of her body making it impossible to think of anything else. His heart pounded in his chest, drowning out all reason, all sense of reality. There was only her. Only this.

He leaned back, his head resting against the couch as she kissed along his jawline, down his neck, each kiss leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His breath hitched as she bit softly at the sensitive spot just below his ear, her hands sliding beneath his shirt, nails raking lightly against his skin. He could barely speak, the words thick on his tongue, but they tumbled out before he could stop them.

“I’d leave everything for you, you know that?” he said, half-laughing, half-serious, the thought slipping out like a confession. “I’d quit my job—hell, I’d move to this shitty city for you.”

She paused, pulling back just enough to look at him, her eyes dark and unreadable. For a split second, Oscar saw something flicker in her gaze—surprise, amusement, maybe even guilt—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. She tilted her head, her fingers trailing down his chest again, this time slower, more deliberate.

“Would you really?” she asked, her voice a soft purr, her lips curling into a playful smile that sent his heart racing.

Oscar swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d do anything for you.”

She smiled, that dangerous smile again, and leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a slow, lingering kiss that made his entire body tremble. Her hands slid around his neck, pulling him closer, and for a moment, Oscar forgot everything—his job, his life, even his own name. There was only her. Only the way she made him feel, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

But as the kiss deepened, as his mind spun with desire and longing, that nagging doubt crept back in. The flicker of uncertainty that had been lingering at the edge of his thoughts ever since that night on the rooftop. He pushed it down, pushed it away, not wanting to spoil the moment, but it was there—like a shadow, haunting the edges of his euphoria.

Oscar’s words hung in the air, a half-breathed promise laced with both desperation and devotion. The world outside, his career, his obligations—they seemed like distant echoes now, fading in the intensity of her presence. Every nerve in his body was attuned to her, to the subtle shift of her weight as she pressed closer, the heat of her body melding with his. The temptation, the desire, was overwhelming.

Her lips brushed against his in a whisper of a kiss, slow and deliberate, her breath warm as it mingled with his. Each kiss she planted was softer, more intimate than the last, trailing back from his mouth down to his neck, as if she was marking him as hers. She moved with a purpose, her hands sliding under his shirt, fingertips exploring his skin with a tantalising slowness that made Oscar’s breath hitch. Every touch was electric, sending shivers coursing down his spine.

“What would you do for me?” she murmured, her voice like velvet, the words teasing and yet dripping with seductive power. Her lips moved against his collarbone as she spoke, making it harder for him to focus on anything but the feel of her, the warmth of her breath, the way she said his name like it was something sacred.

Oscar could barely speak, barely breathe. He nodded, his fingers gripping her hips tighter, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. "Anything," he whispered, his voice raw and honest, his eyes searching hers for some sign that she might feel the same way, that this wasn’t all one-sided.

Her lips found his again, but this time the kiss was deeper, more consuming. It wasn’t just passion—it was possession. She kissed him as though she were claiming every part of him, and Oscar surrendered willingly, his mind lost in the sensation of her lips, the softness of her skin against his. Her body shifted, pressing fully against him, and he could feel the thrum of her heartbeat, could hear the soft, breathy moans that escaped her lips as they moved together.

His hands wandered up her back, fingers tracing the line of her spine before finding their way into her hair, tangling in the dark, silken strands. He tugged gently, pulling her head back just enough to expose her neck, and kissed the hollow of her throat, his lips trailing down to her shoulder. The scent of her perfume was intoxicating—something sweet and dangerous, like a promise that could never be kept.

She gasped softly, her fingers tightening in his hair, and he could feel her smile against his skin. “You’re so sweet, Oscar,” she whispered, her voice husky, dripping with allure. She shifted in his lap, grinding slowly against him in a way that made his breath catch, his heart pound in his chest. "So eager to please."

Her words were both a praise and a tease, and Oscar could feel his resolve melting, every coherent thought slipping away under the weight of his desire for her. He kissed her again, harder this time, a rush of emotion flooding through him as he poured everything he couldn’t say into the kiss. His hands roamed over her body, feeling the curve of her waist, the softness of her skin, the heat of her pressing against him. It was as though she had become the centre of his universe, everything else falling away, and he wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment, lost in her.

She responded with equal fervour, her fingers pulling at his shirt, sliding it over his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Her hands explored the bare skin of his chest, nails dragging lightly across his muscles, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Oscar groaned softly, his lips moving to the curve of her jaw, kissing along the line until he reached her ear. He could feel her tremble slightly against him, a subtle shudder that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

He pulled back for a moment, just enough to look at her—her flushed cheeks, the way her lips were swollen from his kisses, the way her eyes glistened in the low light of the room. She was breathtaking, and for a moment, Oscar couldn’t believe any of this was real.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his thumb brushing gently across her lower lip. She captured it between her teeth for just a second, her eyes gleaming with mischief, before releasing it with a slow, seductive smile.

“And you’re mine,” she whispered back, her voice a promise and a command all at once. She kissed him again, slow and deep, her hips rolling against his in a way that made him lose all sense of control. “Mine to keep, mine to own, mine to use.”

The words flew over Oscar’s head as he slid his hands beneath the hem of her dress, fingers tracing the smooth skin of her thighs, pulling her even closer. He wanted her—needed her—and every touch, every kiss, only made him more desperate. She moaned softly against his lips, a sound that sent heat rushing through his veins, making his heart race, making him weak for her in ways he never thought possible.

“I’d leave everything for you,” he repeated, his voice hoarse as he kissed the side of her neck, his hands tightening on her waist, wanting her closer, needing her closer. "My job, the city, everything. Just say the word, angel."

For a moment, she paused, her fingers stilling against his skin. Her eyes met his, and there was something in her gaze—something unreadable, something that flickered and then disappeared before he could grasp it. But then she smiled, that slow, dangerous smile that made his heart ache with both longing and uncertainty.

“I know you would,” she whispered, her voice like honey, thick and sweet. Her fingers traced the outline of his jaw, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. “But for now, just stay here… with me. Be mine.”

And with that, she kissed him again, deeper this time, pulling him back into the heat of the moment, into her, until all he could think about was the way she felt against him, the way she tasted, the way she made him forget everything else.

Oscar was completely, utterly hooked. He knew he was falling, deeper and deeper, blinded by the enchantment she wove around him, not realising that the threads were spun from illusions. While he yearned to be the hero in her story, she was crafting her own tale.

part two coming soon...