Oh Good Heavens

oh good heavens 🧎🏼‍♀️

many many many thoughts

RAGHHH

THE OTHER GUY PT.1 | FR43

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

fc: random brunettes on pintrest

requests: open

ynpiastri

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

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

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logansargeant: i love you ducky 🦆💛

ynpiastri: love you more sarge :)

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

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

userthree: god i love his relationship with them

oscarpiastri: well said ducky

ynpiastri: hire me as your pr

oscarpiastri: over my dead body

nicolepiastri: oscar be nice to your little sister

userfour: they still call her ducky

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

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

userfive: stop that so cute

williamsracing

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

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

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userone: 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

usertwo: poor logan ☹️

francolapinto: thank you!

userthree: where was logan's goodbye?

userfour: finally some real talent

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

usersix: jv keep an eye open at night 

ynpiastri: womp womp

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

twitter

ynpiastri

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

monza 🤘🤘

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userone: i want to be her 😩

usertwo: i want to date her 🤭

nicolepiastri: very tame post

ynpiastri: they can't tame me 👹

userthree: ten minute penalty for ocon

oscarpiastri: who's dog is that

ynpiastri: i stole it 😼

instagram story

twitter

interview with franco colapinto

twitter

twitter

the end.

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

oh no oh no oh no no no no no

CHICAGO PT.2 | OP81

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

wc: 5.7k

part one

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chicago. Her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now, the flame was burning him.

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

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

How much of yourself are you willing to lose?

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

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

________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could she really be the same woman?

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

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

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

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

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

Before he could overthink it, he typed a message.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About us. About where this is going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t.”

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

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

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

part three

tag list: @iimplicitt @hearts4acemyluv @a-beaverhausen

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...

I WAS ALL OVER HER PT. 3 — O.P.

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

part three of three, link to part one and two here

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

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. lando, i apologise.

word count: 5.5k

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

The Italian sun was warm and for the most part, all you could see was a sea of Ferrari red in the crowd. Not a surprise given it was Monza. The last twenty four hours had been a bit chaotic. Lando got on pole position, and despite everything you were still happy for him. That annoying part of yourself that was a touch too sentimental. Of course it wasn’t that simple, though. McLaren locked out the front row, Oscar starting on P2.

It was obvious to anyone he was hungry. For more, like any other driver but there was simply something different about the way Oscar had been carrying himself lately. After the complicated first win he had in Hungary, the world knew he still felt like he had to prove himself. That wins didn’t have to be handed to him.

You watched, nervous and hands sweating with the heavy headphones over your ears. The drivers had just finished their warm up lap, filing into position. Your eyes flicked between the two McLaren’s, a whole range of complex emotions eating you up inside over the pair of them.

Those red lights lit up one by one, then pouring out of the headphones the infamous words “It’s lights out and away we go!” Engines roared, your jaw fell open.

Oscar overtook Lando’s lead into turn one.

Charles had won, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy for him. A Ferrari driver on top of the podium in Monza was always a sight to behold.

Your breath was held tightly in your lungs however as you watched the Tifosi flood onto the track because there was a bit of commotion going on after the initial post-race interviews of the top three drivers. Oscar finished P2, Lando finished about six seconds behind him and landed P3.

The two McLaren drivers had come to an abrupt stop in the hallway that lead up to the cool down room, their shouting could be heard in the garage despite the roar of the crowd outside. Your stomach dropped, you could barely see them but that didn’t matter. Lando was the main one yelling, Oscar on the other hand had a calm rage about him, his voice sounding more cold than you had ever thought him capable of.

The team looked around awkwardly for a few moments before someone ran to go get Andrea Stella. Not a moment later the team principal threw off his headphones and ran to try and diffuse the situation.

You stood there against the wall, acutely aware of all the cameras that may be filming into the garage. Knowing Netflix was about to have a field day with this. The season had been so messy, and that wasn’t even in regard to your own issues with the drivers but the grid in total.

Messy. What a simple word for such fucked up situations.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

A WEEK AGO, ZANDVOORT

He couldn’t keep his hands off you. Not as he had recklessly driven back to the hotel, not as you rode up the elevator, not as you two stumbled down the hallway to his hotel room. The moment it was in sight he had pushed you against the door, forgetting he was supposed to unlock it first but his mind was on other things.

The feeling of your mouth against his, your nails dragging against his scalp, the way your chest pushed against his in an attempt to get closer. He was consumed by you, not quite believing this was real. Years, he had dreamed about this moment for years. The longing he had felt about getting to touch you like this had driven him to the brink of insanity. He was terrified if he took his hands off you, you’d disappear. That he would wake up alone again in bed, hating what his life had come to despite the building success of his career.

Oscar pressed your body onto the door further, completely covering you with his own body, every nerve ending on fire with a desperate need to be close to you. His hips pressed into yours, a hand cupping your throat while the other tugged at your shirt in a fit of desperation to get at your skin.

Call it demented or sick, but at that moment he wanted to consume you. And he wanted you to do the same to him, to devour him in any way you so pleased.

His tongue danced against yours, teeth hitting and the sounds being made were vulgar but only sent him into a further frenzy. You were right here, giving in as well and he felt like his heart was about to explode.

“Bed,” you gasped out in between kisses barely finding a moment for air.

He didn’t take his mouth off you as he haphazardly dug in his pocket for his wallet, shoving it against the sensor and hoping it would pick up on the hotel key. Not a moment later there was a click and he pushed the door open, one arm wrapping around your waist as he backed you into his room, kicking the door shut behind him. He picked you up, a surprised gasp leaving your lips as he did so. Instead of depositing you on the bed, he sat you down on the desk, arm swiping out and not caring what he knocked over.

His strong hands grabbed at your waist, yanking you to the edge of the bed and his erection pressed snuggly into you. He shuddered at the contact, feeling delirious.

Oscar needed to see you, all of you. Now. His fingers found the hem of your shirt and began to lift. “Arms up,” his voice was soft but commanding, and the blush dusting your face was something he wanted imprinted in his mind for forever.

You did as told, the fabric sliding up and over your head. The shirt fell to the floor soundlessly, his hands resting on your hips as he marvelled at you. Your bra was white cotton, no padding and due to the rain the fabric was practically see through. Hiding nothing and making your hardened nipples stand out. He groaned, not being able to help himself as he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to each one.

“Oscar,” your voice was shy, timid and shaky. He looked up at you, watching with apt attention how you bit your lip and your hands came to rest on his shoulders. “Listen, I know I might not look like a lot of the other-“

He cut you off, grabbing hold of your chin and forcing you to meet his eyes. His expression was stern. “There’s no one else I want this with. Okay? No one, not even as I’m rotting in the earth will there ever be anyone else.” His calloused hands cupped your face, his thumb wiping away a tear that slipped out of your pretty eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, taking in every minuscule detail that made up your face.

You tugged on his shirt this time and he quickly rid himself of it for you, the cool air of the hotel room hitting his skin. He watched as your eyes raked over him, every line of muscle that adorned his stomach, to his neck, then his face.

“This is wrong.” You said quietly, even as your fingers hooked into his belt loops and tugged him into you again.

“Probably,” he said in return, sliding the straps of your bra off your shoulders before undoing the clasp at the back, watching in adoration as it fell away from you. “But I’ve dreamt of this for years and it’s going to take a nuclear bomb to stop me from fucking you, Angel. I hope you know that.”

Your breath hitched and he blinked before you were pulling him down to meet your wanting mouth again, moaning into the kiss as he began to undo the button and zipper on your pants. The moment felt so surreal. If this did turn out to be a dream, when he woke up he was genuinely considering killing himself. He wouldn’t be able to live with the torment any longer.

He smacked your ass lightly and you yelped, getting the hint and lifting your hips for him so he could slide your pants off. Oscar fell to knees and he tugged off your shoes, then your pants, looking up at you like a deprived man seeking salvation at the altar. You chest was heaving and he watched in fascination the way your breast moved and your ribs expanded. Your pupils were blown wide and hungry.

He placed a hand on each of your knees, slowly pulling them apart as he kept eye contact. Oscar placed hot, open mouthed kisses as he danced up your thigh, closer and closer to where he knew you needed him most. The white cotton of your panties giving off a twisted sense of innocence that made him even more hard, if possible. The white fabric made it easy to tell how wet you were and he could hear his heart beat pounding in his ears knowing that it was all for him. Moving closer, he pressed a warm kiss on your navel, taking in the sweet smell of your perfume and he knew he would die a happy man after this.

Next, he placed a kiss right onto your clit, finding it blindly through your underwear.

You yelped at the contact, hips thrusting up into his face and he couldn’t help but smile. His grin surely wicked as he looked up at you through heavy lidded, lust filled eyes.

You swallowed roughly, “Oscar, please.”

He kissed you again, savouring the taste of you and how drenched your panties were, working you through the thin cotton as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Oh my god,” your voice was a whine, your nails digging into his scalp. The pain of it quickly fizzled into pleasure though as he moaned into you, mouth following along with your desperate thrusts.

“Please.” You panted, “I need you, Oscar.”

He pulled back, feeling hazy and in utter bliss. “How badly?”

“So fucking much.”

Oscar ripped your underwear off you, leaving red marks where the fabric had snagged against your skin. With one hand splaying against your stomach, he pushed you backward until your back hit the window, neither of you caring who saw. Fuck, you were stunning. Swollen and glistening for him, practically dripping out into his lap with how wet you were.

He could feel your heart beat as he got closer before looking up at you, watching to see your face when he finally tasted you. Lowering himself, he licked long and flat up your cunt, moaning along with you as you trembled violently, your hands digging into his hair to pull him closer.

One arm reached around your thigh, fingers dancing across your hip before he pulled the skin above your pussy taught, exposing you to him fully to get unobstructed access to your clit. With his other hand, he pushed your other knee up and out, wanting you as exposed as possible. He knew there was a mirror behind him, so before he dove back in like a man starved, his rough voice carried out around the room. “Look at yourself.”

You shook your head, clearly embarrassed. “Oscar—“

“If you stop or if you close your eyes, I’ll stop.”

You pouted, the sight devastatingly adorable and he wanted to bite at your lip but he had other things on his list first. He didn’t move until your eyes hesitantly moved to the mirror behind him, breath hitching at the sight of him kneeling between your thighs.

Oscar’s mouth latched onto your clit, sucking harshly but slowly, the paired strokes of his tongue deliberate, and without warrant a shout left your lips. You had smacked a hand over your mouth, but he quickly tugged your hand away, he wanted to hear you.

Hands returning back to his hair, he watched you as you watched yourself come undone against his mouth. Your jaw falling open as two of his thick fingers sunk into your pussy, instantly clenching around him. He must really have amazing self control because he felt like he could cum in his pants then and there.

“So fucking warm,” he said against you, lapping at your clit as your thighs trembled. “And tight, for me.” His fingers set an unrelenting pace, curling up in a come hither motion and he knew he was dragging the pads of his fingers against your g-spot with the way you were screaming his name.

“Oscar!” You threw your head back against the window, still obeying him and keeping your eyes on the mirror. Your hips rutting into his mouth and fingers, desperate for a release.

Your voice sounded like church bells to him and he added another finger, three digits fucking you at a relentless pace. He felt your stomach tighten, fingers clenching around him. You were breathless as you forced the words out, there was even some drool starting to leak from your lips. “I’m— I’m going—“

“Come for me, Angel. Give me all of it.” He didn’t stop, not even as liquid started to spurt out of your pussy, coating his lips and chin as he continued his relentless licking and sucking on your clit, not stopping the thrusting of his fingers and you screamed and clamped your thighs around his head, being sent into absolute overdrive as you twitched against him. Your orgasm was violent, and he wasn’t letting up.

“Oscar, oh my god.” Your voice was hoarse and rough, followed by another orgasm that completely shattered you as you convulsed against him. He was a moaning mess, pre-cum soaking through his boxers and trousers. You yanked his head back by his hair and he let go of your clit with a resounding pop.

“Greedy.” You teased through panting breaths, a delirious smile on your face and he couldn’t help but share it.

“You taste like heaven.” He leaned in again, gently licking a long stripe up your entrance, collecting whatever wasn’t on his face or on the floor. You shuddered against him as he placed a light kiss against your clit.

He watched as you stood up on trembling legs, his hands coming up to rest on the back of your thighs as he stared up at you from where he was, still on his knees. Your fingers brushed his hair back from his eyes, taking in his face and swollen lips, but his brows started to furrow as your eyes began to water.

“What’s wrong?” He said quietly, pulling you to him so he was hugging you around your legs, resting his chin on your stomach as he looked up at you.

Shaking your head, you wiped the tears away and smiled. “I’m happy. And I’m mad we waited so long.”

“Yeah,” Oscar said softly, giving you a warm smile as he slowly stood up, his fingers dragging up your body as he went. He cupped your throat with both hands as he got to his feet, pressing his thumbs up under your chin to tilt your face to him. He kissed you gently, yet there was still a rough desperation underlined in it. “It’s a good thing I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Your eyes glowed, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, turning you and backing you up slowly till the back of your knees hit the bed and he lightly shoved you onto the mattress. He watched you carefully as he began to undo his belt, watching as your eyes traced down his toned stomach, down his happy trail, and to the obvious bulge in his trousers.

“What do you have in mind?” Your voice was timid, but clearly excited as you then sucked in a sharp breath as he took off his trousers and boxers in one go, his cock twitching at the cool air in the room and the tip was glistening and red.

“Oh, Angel.” He walked forward, slowly climbing over you and parted your thighs with his knee. He lowered his face, nipping at your neck gently before his hot breath danced over your ear. “I’m going to ruin you.”

He took hold of himself, dragging the tip up and down your entrance and he just about came undone there and then. This had to last, he needed it to last.

Oscar’s eyes locked onto yours before he sunk in, burying himself to the hilt and a loud groan left him while you moaned, throwing your head back against the sheets. You were devine. Warm, wet, already spasming around him. He was losing his hold on his sanity as he slowly pulled back out, then slammed back into you with a brutal thrust.

“I hate that he got to fucking touch you.” The words had slipped out before he realised what he had said. But he meant every syllable.

“I know,” you gasped out, nails dragging against his back, surely leaving red streak marks but he didn’t care.

Oscar had driven himself mad knowing that Lando got to see you like this. Got to feel what it was like to have you wrapped around his cock. Haunted by the thought of his teammate making you cum. Horrified by the thought of you screaming Lando’s name.

He didn’t realise it, but a hand had wrapped around your throat, choking you as he fucked you with next to no gentleness. Bottoming out each time, his other hand taking hold of one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, needing to go deeper.

You cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure as he hit your cervix over and over again.

“I thought of you every time he touched me,” the cruel admission left your lips. Both of you were horrible, awful people. Yet neither seemed to care as your teeth sunk into his forearm that was next to your head, tears slipping out of your eyes as you screamed. His pace was brutal, unrelentless. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room and an animalistic groan left him and you clenched around his cock.

Oscar turned you both so you were facing the mirror, his hand that was choking you tilting your head back so you could watch him fuck you upside down. “I’ve gotten myself off every week to thought of fucking you like this. Anywhere. Of bending you over the sink. Fucking you in the shower. In my driver’s room before a race. I’d fuck you in front of the whole paddock if I could.”

You choked out a cry, blood rushing to your head from the lack of oxygen. He knew you liked the filth he was muttering due how hard you were clenching around him, your hips going up to meet his thrusts.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Coming around my cock as everyone watched. Knowing Lando would be watching as I made a mess of you.”

“I’m going to come,” you cried, coughing violently afterward. He may have gotten ahead of himself as he pulled his hand away, noticing a red hand mark on your throat. But the sight only spurred him on further, his hand dancing between your bodies before finding your clit, rubbing tight circles into it.

He felt your orgasm before he heard you. Your cunt clamped down onto his cock, screaming his name as you convulsed. God, you were ethereal.

His thrusts became sloppy and unorganised, one hand holding your hip and yanking you down onto him as the other continued its agonising circled on your clit.

Oscar cried out your name as he came, yanking you all the way down on his cock as his cum spilled hotly into you, filling you up in such a primal way it made another wave of pleasure shoot through him.

He collapsed on top of you, both your bodies sweaty and he began peppering kisses across your face. Kissing your tears away and muttering mine between each.

Oscar was still buried deep inside you, holding his release in and he never wanted to move. Your chest heaved, slowly coming down from your high. He felt your arms move before your hands gently took hold of his face, bringing his eyes up to meet yours.

Messy trails of mascara ran down your cheeks, painting a beautiful picture of ruin in front of him. If his muscles weren’t so tired, he would’ve reached for his phone to take a picture.

“Oscar,” your voice was a whisper.

He hummed, lifting a hand up to gently tug at your bottom lip with his thumb. You seemed hesitant, searching his gaze for something. But he didn’t need to be given any hints.

“I love you,” he said the words against your lips. He said them again against your forehead. Again as he kissed each of your eye lids. Your nose.

You started to cry again, a grin stretching at your lips as you spoke the words that sealed his fate, “I love you.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

MONZA

You shut the door softly behind you, looking at his back as he leaned over to untie his shoes.

Clearing your throat, Lando sat up and turned, raising a brow at you. “Yeah?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you considered how there was no hello. No smile, though you weren’t expecting much of one. Sure, he scored a podium, but it wasn’t enough.

You stood there and stared at him for a moment. Genuinely wondering why he had even asked you out in the first place. What was the point? Then again, you shouldn’t have said yes in the first place.

Sighing, you brought out your keys and took off the one he gave you to his flat in Monaco.

His eyes widened, realising quickly what was happening and he stood up, crossing the room and taking hold of your hands to halt the finality of your actions. “Hey, what’s going on?” Lando cupped your chin, bringing your eyes up to his. “Talk to me, baby.”

Despite everything, you still felt guilty. Your mind couldn’t help but wander over all of his sweet moments with you. Because he could be, he could be really fucking sweet. Romantic even. But he was also really fucking awful sometimes. Mean, even.

Your brows furrowed, taking hold of his wrist. “We both know I’m not what you want.” You looked at his eyes, how stunningly green they were and curious how he was able to look at you in such adoration sometimes. “And we both know I know about the other girls.”

Lando clenched his jaw, his eyes flickering shut as the words were finally out. Sure, he may actually want you. He just didn’t only want you. Besides, you knew you were in no place to pass judgement anymore. With your other hand, you brushed a thumb over his cheek bone, his eyes then opening. Looking at you in confusion, not understanding why you weren’t angry. Not understanding why you were being so… understanding.

With a small sigh, you kissed him softly on the cheek before dropping his key into his hands. He didn’t stop looking at you, and maybe you were reading too much into it, but he nearly looked sad.

“Bye, Lando.”

And you left.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

AZERBAIJAN, BAKU

The thick rug that ran down the middle of the hallway muted your footsteps as you walked. You had flown home during the small break between the last race and the one that’s tomorrow. You hadn’t been able to see Oscar, though you had texted a few times.

You came to a stop outside of his door, you hadn’t told him when you were coming back. He understood you needed a break.

Stealing your breath, you knocked on the door once. The sharp sound echoing down the long hallway. Muffled sounds came from the other side of the door before it opened, Oscar blinking at you in surprise before he grinned at you.

He was so effortlessly handsome, wearing a white t-shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly and a pair of grey sweats. You licked your lips, mouth feeling dry and looked down at your shoes.

“Angel?”

“I broke up with Lando.”

There was a moment of silence before you heard him step forward, his warm and rough hands holding your face, tilting your face up to his. The look on his face, it was hard to put distinct words to it but the look of hope in his eyes made your knees weak.

“What?”

“I broke up with him.” Your breathing was uneven, and despite everything, doubts still lingered in your brain. “And you’re under no obligation to—“

Oscar pulled you to him, kissing you with such urgency your head spun.

You smiled into his mouth, “I’m all yours.”

He picked you up, looking at you with heaven in his eyes, carrying you into the room and shutting the door behind him.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Lando watched as champagne sprayed out and over the podium, watching Oscar laugh and smile as he got drenched with the Australian flag glowing above the top step. Despite his annoyance, he couldn’t hate him. His teammate was a good driver and a good person.

All of Lando’s karma was finally catching up to him, but he clapped anyway. Smiled for photos. Patted Oscar on the shoulder in congratulations, who in turn looked at him sceptically before eventually giving him a small smile.

A tiny truce.

After the crowd had died down, Lando had grappled with his consciousness for a while before forcing himself to go to Oscar’s room. He could at least try to make some sort of amends. They were going to be teammates for a while; they might as well try and get along. Water under the bridge.

He knocked on the door, he didn’t hear a response but slight muffled shuffling. He rolled his eyes, they needed to get this conversation out of the way or else Lando wasn’t sure he’d pluck up the courage again. Plus, he was sure Oscar was in a good mood after a win.

Testing the handle, the door clicked and he pushed it open, mouth opening to say something when he suddenly froze at the sight before him.

You were sitting up on the dresser, Oscar standing between your legs and his hands under your shirt, kissing you as if his life depended on it. Your desperation was palpable, hands buried in the Aussie’s hair and moaning into his mouth.

Lando blinked a few times, his mouth dry and feeling as if he’d vomit. Quickly and quietly, he shut the door and started to walk away. His pace brisk, trying not to cause a scene and run.

He knew he was in absolutely no position to feel upset over this, but he couldn’t help it. He did. He knew he had fucked up. Fucked up a wonderful opportunity you had given him. You were perfect in every sense of the word, but he had been too caught up in his ego to give a shit if he fumbled one of the best things life had tried to offer him. Right after you left his hotel room in Monza, he sat there staring at the key he had given you for a pathetically long time as a cold wave of reality slammed into him.

Not sure why, but his feet brought him to Red Bull’s section of the paddock, eyes searching desperately for Max. He was always someone he could talk to, even in the worst circumstances the Dutch man somehow always knew what to say.

After a few frantic minutes of searching, he finally found Max and called out to him. His friend turned, raising a brow at the look on Lando’s face. He probably looked insane. Max crossed his arms as he approached, not looking all too thrilled at seeing him. Which wasn’t a surprise. The entire grid wasn’t a fan of his behaviour in regards to women, Max especially given everything that had happened with Kelly and Daniil.

“Can we talk?” He asked.

Max eyed him over for a moment before nodding, guiding him back to his room. He sat on the edge of the counter, not saying anything but looked at Lando expectantly.

Lando bit the side of his cheek, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I fucked up.”

Max let out a long breath through his nose, his eye brows rising. “You’re realising this now?”

Sighing, Lando considered how to move forward. “Look I know it was dumb but can you really blame—Fuck!” His eyes began to water and his hand went up to cover his now bleeding nose. Staring at his friend in bewilderment as his head began to pound with pain.

Max had just punched him.

“You are such a fucking dumbass, Lando.” Max was practically yelling at him, not caring that the sound hurt the Brit’s head.

“I just walked in on her and Oscar practically fucking! They’ve probably been doing it behind my back all this time, anyway—“

Max looked like he wanted to deck him again. “Get over yourself! How does that even begin to justify the countless women you were screwing around with behind her back all these months.” Lando went to open his mouth but Max held up his hand. “I have never in all my years even considered doing that to someone, let alone Kelly.”

Lando grew quiet, slumping against the wall, not caring that blood was dripping down his face and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes till stars appeared. “I know, I fucked up,” his voice cracked as he spoke. “I can’t justify it. And I can’t explain it, but I really feel like I’ve had a wake up call, mate.” He laughed ruefully, looking up at the ceiling. “She’s so perfect and I just— I fucked her over.”

Max considered his friend for a long moment. He hated him for what he did to you, but he still cared about him. “I’m not saying you can fix this, nor do I think there is anything to even fix. But you need to apologise to her. But I need you to understand this,” he stepped towards Lando, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She doesn’t need to forgive you. I don’t even think she should. But she deserves a proper apology from you. Get down on your knees and cry for all I care.” With one last pointed look, Max walked over to his door and gestured an arm out. “Now get the fuck out of my room.”

That night at the club the team had picked to celebrate Oscar’s win, Lando couldn’t take his eyes off you. He held his drink, still full and ice long ago melted as he watched you dance. The multicolour lights painting you in a beautiful image.

He waved off multiple girls who approached, not even an inkling of interest igniting in his chest. His heart for some reason set on torturing himself as he watching how Oscar held onto you possessively, never letting you go and with stars in his eyes.

He had known the whole time Oscar was in love with you, and it gave him a screwed up thrill to know you were with him instead. He didn’t know what was wrong with him sometimes, but he regretted everything. Not like it mattered. You looked properly happy for once and Lando realised you had never looked at him that way.

Another girl came up to him, resting her hand on his shoulder and smiling seductively.

All he could see was you, though. Looking at him one last time before kissing him on the cheek and leaving. Shrugging the girl off, he called it an early night and left.

Despite everything, how he treated you, Lando came to a crushing realisation and he felt his lungs stop working.

He was in love with you.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

liked by youruser, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,436,097 others

landonorris smile. 🏆

*tap to load more comments*

userone: LESGOOO

usertwo: singapore looks good on you!

userthree: anyone find it odd how unhappy he’s looked lately? even when he wins

userfour: anyone see those leaked photos of oscar and lando’s ex?

| userfive: YESS they were making out in front of some pub in london

| usersix: WILLDDDD

youruser: congratulations lando 🥳

❤️ by author

landonorris: thank you, love ❤️

| userseven: i’m so lost 😭

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

*tap to load more comments*

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)

*tap to load more comments*

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.

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