I Hate Her

i hate her 😭😭😭

CHICAGO PT.4 | OP81

an: OKAY SO FINAL PART IM DONE NOW AND IM SO SORRY TO EVERYONE FOR WHAT IVE DONE I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME PLEASE. if you feel like the writing quality has decreased im sorry lol im tired and haven't proof read it.

wc: 2.1k

part one | part two | part three |

On Monday, Oscar stood outside her hotel door, heart pounding in his chest. He had rehearsed this confrontation over and over in his mind, but now that he was here, the weight of it felt unbearable. Every instinct told him to walk away, to leave this mess behind, but he couldn’t—not yet. He needed to see her, to hear it from her lips. He needed answers. Closure.

With a shaky breath, he knocked.

There was a long pause, and then the door creaked open. She stood there, looking as effortlessly composed as ever. Her dark eyes gleamed in the low light of the hallway, her lips curling into that soft, practised smile he knew too well. She was dressed casually, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders, but even now, even after everything, she looked like she had stepped out of a dream.

“Oscar?” Her voice was soft, almost surprised, though something flickered behind her gaze—a quick flash of recognition, of something calculating. “What are you doing here?”

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. "We need to talk."

She hesitated, but then she stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. The hotel room was immaculate, a polished, sterile space that felt more like a set than a home. Oscar walked in, the air heavy between them, his pulse racing as the door clicked shut behind him.

"What's going on?" SHe asked, her voice gentle, almost soothing, as she moved closer to him. She tilted her head, that familiar gesture that had once made him feel like he was the centre of her world. "You seem upset. Is everything okay?"

Oscar's jaw tightened. He had to focus. He couldn't let her pull him back into her orbit, not again. He turned to face her, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "I know everything."

Her expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker in her eyes—a brief shift, barely noticeable, but Oscar saw it. She took a step back, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Lando," Oscar said, the name like a rock in his throat. "I know you're with him. I know you’ve been with him this whole time."

For a moment, there was silence. Oscar could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his heart hammering in his chest as he waited for her response.

She blinked, and then, to his astonishment, she let out a soft, almost amused laugh. "Oh, Oscar... is that what this is about?"

His stomach twisted. The way she dismissed it, the way she said his name—it sent a chill down his spine. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold on to his anger, to the clarity he had felt just minutes ago. "Don't play games with me. You’ve been lying to me. To both of us."

Her expression softened, her eyes widening as she reached out to touch his arm. Her fingers were warm, familiar, and he hated how much his body responded to her touch, how a part of him still craved that connection. "Oscar," she whispered, her voice like honey, "I never lied to you. I care about you, I really do. But things... things are complicated."

He pulled away from her, his skin burning where her hand had been. "Complicated?" he repeated, his voice harsher than he intended. "You made me believe you were a single mum. You made me think you were raising Lea on your own while you were playing both of us!"

Her expression faltered, and for the first time, she looked genuinely uncomfortable. But it was fleeting. She quickly replaced it with a look of soft concern, stepping closer to him again. "Oscar, you're misunderstanding this. Yes, I’m with Lando, but you and I... what we have is different. I never intended for this to get so messy."

"Messy?" Oscar felt his pulse quicken with a new surge of anger. "You manipulated both of us! You used us! This wasn’t some accident—this was calculated!"

Her face hardened, her eyes sharpening as she took a step back. "Calculated?" she echoed, her voice cool now, losing that tender edge. "You think I planned this? That I sat there and schemed to ruin your lives? You’re overreacting, Oscar."

The shift in her tone was like a slap in the face, but Oscar refused to let her twist this around. He took a step forward, closing the space between them. "Don't try to gaslight me," he said, his voice low, trembling with the effort to stay in control. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew who I was before you even sat down next to me in that bar in Chicago. You knew everything about me because Lando told you about me. And you used that."

Her eyes flashed, but then, just as quickly, she softened again, her lips curling into that same seductive smile that had once unravelled him. She stepped closer, so close he could feel her breath against his skin. "Oscar," she whispered, her hand brushing against his chest. "I didn’t plan this. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You and I… we have something special, don't we? You felt it, didn’t you?"

His breath hitched. The closeness of her, the way her voice wove around him, made it hard to think. For a moment, the anger inside him wavered, like a candle flickering in a gust of wind. He could feel the pull of her, the way she knew exactly how to make him weak, how to make him question everything.

But this time—this time he couldn’t let her win.

Oscar clenched his fists, stepping back from her, putting distance between them. His voice trembled, but he forced the words out, each one like tearing away a piece of himself. "No. We don’t have anything. You don’t care about me. You never did."

Her eyes narrowed, the smile fading. There was a flash of frustration in her expression, a quick flicker of anger, but she quickly masked it. "Oscar, you're being dramatic. I never lied about my feelings for you."

"Then why didn’t you tell me about Lando?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Why didn’t you tell him about me?"

She hesitated, her gaze shifting just slightly, and for the first time, Oscar saw something—guilt—flicker across her face. But it was gone as quickly as it came. She straightened, her chin lifting defiantly. "You don’t understand what it’s like, Oscar. It wasn’t as simple as choosing between the two of you. I have responsibilities—Leo, my career. I couldn’t just… I couldn’t just drop everything for you."

Oscar felt his heart drop at the mention of Leo, the boy she had lied about so easily. "Don’t bring your son into this to justify your lies."

Her eyes darkened, and for the first time, her voice hardened. "You don’t get it, do you? You never really did. You think this is black and white, that I was just stringing you along for fun. But life isn’t that simple."

Oscar shook his head, stepping back even farther. "You’re right. Life isn’t simple. But you made the choice to lie. And you made the choice to hurt the people who cared about you."

For the first time, She properly faltered. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she let out a long, shaky breath. But Oscar didn’t let it sway him. He knew better now.

“I’m done,” Oscar said, his voice firm, final. “I’m done letting you twist everything around, making me doubt myself. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t keep playing with people like this.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for any sign of weakness, any opening she could exploit. But this time, Oscar didn’t waver. He stood his ground.

Finally, she let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. She crossed her arms, her expression hardening into something cold, distant. "Fine," she said, her voice clipped, devoid of the warmth she had used to manipulate him for so long. "If that’s how you want it."

Oscar nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him. "That’s how it has to be."

For a moment, they stood in silence, the air between them thick with tension. Then, without another word, Oscar turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

And for the first time in months, he felt free.

A few weeks passed, and the bruises she had left on Oscar’s soul slowly began to fade. The races rolled on, and life at the paddock resumed its relentless pace. After everything, Oscar had managed to distance himself from the chaos she'd stirred within him. Lando, too, had cut her out. They’d had one more awkward conversation, full of unspoken regrets, but in the end, it was clear—they had both been played. She had woven her lies so intricately that they'd been trapped before they even knew there was a game.

She had vanished from their lives as swiftly as she had entered, severing ties as though they had never mattered. No apologies, no lingering farewells. Just a cold, calculated exit.

At first, Oscar couldn't shake the remnants of her presence. The memories would sneak up on him, whispering doubts and ghosts of feelings he wished would disappear. But as the weeks went by, he felt a shift, the grip of her seduction loosening its hold. He worked. He drove. He focused. Lando did the same, both of them rebuilding in their own way.

There were moments when they crossed paths at the paddock, moments when an awkward silence hung in the air, a quiet understanding between two men who had fallen into the same trap. But they never spoke of her again. The chapter was closed, the storm that was her had passed.

Or so they thought.

It was just another race weekend. The paddock buzzed with the usual excitement, the hum of engines and anticipation swirling through the air. Oscar walked toward the garages, the sun casting sharp shadows on the tarmac. He felt lighter now, the weight of the past weeks slowly lifting, the sting of her betrayal a fading memory.

He glanced toward the familiar motorhomes, watching the familiar faces of drivers, engineers, and media moving like clockwork. Just another race day.

Logan strolled up beside him, looking far more relaxed than usual. “You ready for this weekend?” he asked casually, but there was an edge to his tone, something that made Oscar glance sideways.

“What’s up?” Oscar asked, slowing his pace. Logan’s nonchalance always had a purpose.

Logan hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “Look, I wasn’t going to say anything, but... have you seen the news?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “News?”

“About the grid,” Logan continued. “New couple spotted. Not that it’s really our business, but I figured… after everything… you should know.”

Oscar’s stomach sank. He hadn’t been paying attention to gossip, deliberately keeping his head down, but now a flicker of dread curled in his chest.

“Who?” Oscar asked, his voice tighter than he intended.

Logan pulled out his phone, scrolling before handing it to Oscar. “You’re not going to like this.”

The headline flashed across the screen: New F1 Couple Alert—Charles Leclerc Caught in Steamy Romance With Mysterious Brunette.

Oscar’s heart pounded in his ears as he scrolled through the article. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the photos. They were grainy, taken from a distance, but unmistakable. A man—one of the newer drivers, Charles—with his arm around a woman. A woman with long, dark hair and sharp, seductive features.

It was her.

Oscar’s grip tightened on the phone, the image burning itself into his mind. There she was, smiling that same smile, her lips curled in the same way that had once left him breathless. The same way she had smiled at him, at Lando, before turning their worlds upside down.

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered, handing the phone back to Logan. “She’s doing it again.”

Logan exhaled sharply. “Yeah, looks like it. It’s like she’s got a thing for drivers, mate. I didn’t want to bring it up, but... you needed to know.”

Oscar’s mind raced. She had moved on, effortlessly sliding into another life, another story, as though the chaos she’d caused had never even happened. And Charles—he had no idea. Oscar could see it in the photos, the way Charles was looking at her, the way his hand rested protectively on her waist. It was the same way Oscar had once looked at her. The same way Lando had.

She was doing it again. The same seduction, the same lies, the same calculated dance.

“She knew exactly what she was doing all along,” Oscar said, more to himself than to Logan. The realisation hit him hard. She hadn’t just stumbled into his life. She had planned it. She’d known exactly who he was. Lando had mentioned him, and talked about his teammate from time to time. She had heard his name, known his world, and positioned herself perfectly to take advantage of it.

The night at the bar in Chicago wasn’t a coincidence. She hadn’t randomly chosen the seat next to him. She had orchestrated it all.

Logan sighed. “She’s good at what she does, I’ll give her that. But Charles… he’s got no clue what’s coming.”

For a moment, Oscar felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. He thought he had escaped her, thought they had finally closed the book on her manipulations. But here she was, sinking her claws into someone new, dragging another man into her web.

“What do I do?” Oscar asked quietly, feeling the weight of it all.

Logan shrugged, giving him a sympathetic look. “There’s nothing you can do. Not really. It’s his choice, his life. You can’t save him if he doesn’t know he needs saving.”

Oscar nodded, though the pit in his stomach twisted tighter. He watched as the world around him carried on, oblivious to the storm brewing in the distance.

The image of her with her lips on Charles, just like she had done to him.

And as Oscar turned away, walking toward the garage, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm wasn’t over. Not yet.

the end.

tag list: @iimplicitt @hearts4acemyluv @a-beaverhausen

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

can confirm!! flailing works!

So, FYI you guys, sometimes if you go to your favorite writers and flail at them a lot about how much you love their fics with lots of specific examples, they will let you read thousands of words of their unpublished WIPs and you can flail even more. Also sometimes after that you get to be friends, too, and help them come up with ideas. And vice versa! This is pretty much the best thing in the world and it is called fandom.

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 😭

REQUESTS

these are the drivers i’m most likely to write for, but i am open to others depending on the request (most likely fernando or something but again, i’m open to some suggestions)

they can be fluff, angst, smutty, whatever! can be driver x fem!y/n or driver x fem!unamed character

just shoot me a message!

I WAS ALL OVER HER PT.2 — O.P.

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

part two of three, link to part one here

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

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

word count: 4.9k

dedicated to: @theonottsbxtch

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

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not answering.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Break up with him.”

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

“Break up with him.”

“Oscar—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You shouldn’t have to handle him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “I mean yeah, but—“

“And now Lando is in the way?”

Oscar sighed, “yeah.”

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

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

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

“When did you get wise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oscar—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

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

landonorris yup 🏆 more like it

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userone: LESGOOOOO

usertwo: twowinssss

userthree: anyone notice how tense lando & oscar were?

| userfour: yea… and landos gf. super weird

| userfive: neither of them liked this either

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

| userseven: YEAAA lando has been lurkinggg

| usereight: embarrassing honestly

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

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

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

usertweleve: MORE DM’S GOT LEAKED

userthirteen: lando is quite literally for the streets

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

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part three found here