#norris!reader

And Yn’s new single, “sports car,” had dropped at midnight.

The song had already hit number one in twenty countries. The music video had broken viewing records. The internet was on fire. The paddock was on fire. Half the drivers were humming it, and the other half were trying not to be caught humming it because they’d already been caught doing it twice.

And then there was the ending of the music video.

That one line.

“Special thanks to my boyfriend for the inspiration.”

Every fan lost their collective minds. Every journalist lost their minds. Every driver reacted like they’d just witnessed a plot twist in a soap opera.

And Lando?

Lando had basically short-circuited.

He’d been nagging her about it all morning, and so far, Yn had let every single question bounce off her like he was made of soft rubber and she was made of titanium.

Yn walked through the paddock with sunglasses on, oversized hoodie, hair slightly messy from rushing out of the hotel, iced coffee in hand. She tried to be low-key — but fans saw her instantly, waving signs, calling her name, singing parts of the song back at her.

Every second person yelled, “WHO’S YOUR BOYFRIEND, YN?!”

She simply smiled, waved, and blew kisses.

Next to her, Lando was already spiraling.

He hadn’t even had breakfast.

“Yn. Yn.” He nudged her elbow like an impatient toddler. “Seriously. We’re siblings, which means you should tell me things. Big things. Important things. Things like… a secret boyfriend? You wrote a whole song about him?”

“I did not write a whole song about him,” she said, sipping her coffee.

“You thanked him in the video!”

“I thanked him for the inspiration.”

“THAT IS EVEN WORSE!”

“It is not worse,” she said calmly. “It’s literally the same thing.”

Lando held his hands out dramatically. “How am I the ONLY one who doesn’t know who he is? Even Carlos won’t tell me!”

“That’s because Carlos has boundaries,” she said.

Carlos walked by at that exact moment, sunglasses on, peaceful as a monk.

“Boundaries are good,” he said in a zen tone as he passed.

“CARLOS, YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY FRIEND!” Lando shouted after him.

Carlos didn’t even turn around. He only lifted a hand, waved in a mysterious goodbye, and disappeared into the Williams building.

Yn snorted, nearly choking on her coffee. “I love him so much.”

“YEAH, WELL, ME TOO, BUT HE’S A TRAITOR,” Lando whined.

They reached the media area, and Lando had to stop because a press officer was waving him over. He pointed two fingers at his eyes and then at hers.

“This is NOT over.”

“It absolutely is,” she said, adjusting her sunglasses.

“It is DEFINITELY NOT.”

She walked away, basking in the fans chanting her song, letting Lando implode on his own.

He could nag all he wanted.

She wasn’t telling him a thing.

Because her boyfriend wasn’t just some guy.

He was Oscar.

Oscar, who was currently sitting in his own driver room with the door cracked open, listening to a mechanic play “sports car” on his phone, smiling like a fool.

Oscar, who had been dating Yn for three years.

Oscar, who had survived countless near-reveals, close calls, near-disasters.

Oscar, who had held her hand under tables at team dinners, kissed her behind motorhomes, whispered “I love you” in stairwells, and sneaked her into his hotel room after every race weekend.

Oscar, who loved her so much it scared him sometimes.

And Oscar, who definitely wasn’t supposed to be seen kissing her in broad daylight inside a driver room he assumed was his.

He didn’t know that part yet.

He was just excited she was here.

After her brief fan interactions and some chats with engineers she knew, Yn wandered around the paddock. She said hello to Max, who immediately blurted:

“Great song. Who’s the boyfriend?”

Yn answered by simply patting his arm.

Max frowned. “That means nothing.”

She patted his arm again.

“No, that still means nothing.”

“You’ll live,” she said sweetly, walking away.

Next she ran into Alex, who already had the music video pulled up on his phone.

“Hey Yn, quick thing,” he said, shoving the phone toward her. “Who is this ‘boyfriend’ in the emotional credits? Because honestly it sounded like a threat to us all.”

“It’s just an acknowledgment,” she said innocently.

“Of WHO?” Alex demanded.

She shrugged.

“Oh my god she’s good,” he muttered, watching her leave.

And then, from behind her, she heard a soft, familiar voice.

“Yn.”

Her entire chest softened.

She turned around.

Oscar stood there, leaning against the motorhome railing, hands tucked into the pockets of his team hoodie, hair slightly messy from his helmet earlier, soft brown eyes fixed entirely on her.

He didn’t smile wide. He never did in public when she was involved. It was always small, subtle, the type of smile only she would recognize.

The one that meant, I missed you.

She walked toward him casually, like she was simply making her way down the paddock.

And Oscar gently reached out as she passed, fingers hooking around hers for half a second — the tiniest touch, hidden from any camera angle.

But it was enough to make her whole heart stutter.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi,” he echoed, voice low.

“You liked the song?”

His eyes warmed. “I loved the song.”

“And the video?”

“I loved that too,” he said. “Especially the end.”

She smiled.

“Any chance,” he murmured, glancing sideways to check the hallway, “you have five minutes?”

“Only if you stop being suspicious,” she teased.

“I’m not suspicious,” he whispered.

“You are the definition of suspicious.”

He laughed under his breath — barely audible — then jerked his head toward the side hallway.

She followed him.

Behind her, she heard someone call, “Yn! Quick selfie?” but she waved apologetically and kept walking.

Oscar led her toward one of the team buildings. She didn’t even question which room he was pulling her into. They had done this dance dozens of times — Oscar always knew the quiet spots, the empty rooms, the safest places to hide.

His hand brushed hers again before he reached for the door.

He pulled her in gently.

And shut it.

The moment the door clicked, Oscar’s hands were on her waist, pulling her into him.

He kissed her like he’d been holding his breath all month.

“Congratulations,” he murmured against her lips, kissing her again, slower this time. “The song is amazing. You’re amazing.”

She melted, arms sliding around his shoulders, burying her face in the crook of his neck for a moment.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you too.” His voice vibrated softly against her ear. “I watched the video five times this morning.”

“Only five?”

“I had a meeting,” he laughed quietly.

He cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.

“You’re incredible,” he said. “And I’m so proud of you.”

She tilted her head, brushing her nose against his. “You say that like you didn’t help make half of it happen.”

“I did nothing,” he said.

“You inspired the whole chorus.”

“I still did nothing except… accidentally exist.”

“That’s enough,” she murmured.

He kissed her again, deeper.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently, and he let out a faint breath into her mouth, pressing her back against the door.

“Someone’s in a mood,” she teased between kisses.

“I haven’t seen you in two weeks,” he whispered.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” he said without shame. “You were on tour.”

She laughed softly, kissing him again.

He lifted her slightly, pulling her closer by the waist, kissing down her jaw. It wasn’t desperate — just affectionate, full of warmth and familiarity and three years of knowing every angle of each other’s hearts.

After a long moment, she rested her forehead against his.

“Lando asked me again this morning,” she whispered.

Oscar froze.

“About your boyfriend?” he asked quietly.

“About my boyfriend,” she confirmed, smiling softly.

Oscar groaned, burying his face in her shoulder dramatically. “He’s so close to figuring it out.”

“No,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “He’s so far away from figuring it out. He thinks it’s… I don’t know. Some actor. Or a songwriter. Or maybe Patrick from the gym.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Patrick from the gym is sixty.”

“I didn’t say his guesses were good.”

Oscar snorted.

“I don’t want to lie to him,” Yn admitted softly. “But I also don’t want him to freak out.”

“He’s going to freak out,” Oscar said immediately.

“I know.”

“He’s going to freak out for several days.”

“I know.”

“He might even faint.”

“I know.”

Oscar leaned back, cupping her face again. “But whenever you’re ready… we’ll tell him. Together.”

Her chest warmed.

“Seriously?” she whispered.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be there. Even if he tries to tackle me.”

“He won’t tackle you.”

Oscar gave her a look. “He absolutely will.”

She laughed, kissing him again.

They kissed slowly, deeply, breaths warm, hands wandering but gentle. Her fingers traced the collar of his fireproof shirt; his palms warmed her hips. The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of clothes and their quiet sighs.

He pulled away only to look at her again — the way he always did, like he needed a second to process that she was real.

“You’re glowing today,” he whispered.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“I’ve been flirting with you since we were teenagers,” he said.

“That’s true,” she giggled.

He kissed her again.

And again.

And again.

They were so lost in each other they didn’t hear footsteps. Didn’t hear voices in the hallway. Didn’t hear the door handle turn.

But they did hear the door swing open.

And they definitely saw the person standing in the door frame.

Lando.

Frozen.

Mouth open.

Eyes wide.

Face pale.

And holding a bag of snacks he clearly no longer remembered purchasing.

“Oh my god,” he whispered in a tiny, broken voice.

Yn gasped.

Oscar blinked.

Lando stared.

Oscar stared back.

Yn whispered, “Oh no…”

Lando whispered, “WHAT…”

Oscar whispered, “This… this isn’t my driver room, is it?”

Lando dropped the snacks.

The door was still wide open.

And nobody moved.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Yn was heavier than usual against his chest, not in the growing-toddler way that made him smile with quiet pride, but in the way a sick child clung without meaning to. Her little body was slack, pliant, tucked into him like she didn’t quite trust the world to hold her up on its own. When he shifted in the hotel bed, trying to ease his stiff shoulder, she didn’t protest the way she normally would. She only made a small sound—half cough, half whine—and burrowed closer.

That was when his eyes opened.

“Hey,” he murmured instantly, fully awake now, one hand coming up to her back. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Her skin was hot. Too hot.

Lando pushed himself up against the headboard, keeping her close as his free hand went to her forehead, then her neck. She was flushed, cheeks pink and glassy, curls damp with sweat. When she breathed in, there was a faint rattle there, subtle but unmistakable. She coughed again, weakly, and her fingers tightened in his shirt like she was afraid he might move away.

His stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”

Yn stirred, eyelids fluttering open just enough to look at him. Her eyes were unfocused, tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

“Dada,” she croaked.

“I’m here,” he said immediately, panic already clawing up his throat even as he forced his voice to stay calm. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

She wasn’t okay. He knew it the same way parents always did—instinctive, bone-deep, terrifying. He scooped her closer, one hand rubbing slow, steady circles into her back while his mind raced through symptoms, temperatures, timelines. Had she been warm last night? Had she coughed then? How long had this been building while he was focused on schedules and briefings and everything else that suddenly felt so small it made him sick with guilt?

His mum’s voice came back to him without warning.

She’s so little, Lando. All that travel…

He swallowed hard and pressed his lips to Yn’s hair.

“I know,” he whispered, though she hadn’t said anything. “I know.”

The doctor confirmed the fever later, gentle and reassuring in the way people were when they knew you were barely holding it together.

“It’s common,” he said. “Travel, different climates. She’s very young.”

Lando nodded, holding Yn against his shoulder as she drifted in and out of sleep, her head tucked under his chin. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself the way he usually would.

“Keep her close,” the doctor continued. “Warm. Hydrated. If anything worsens—breathing, fever—you come straight back.”

“I will,” Lando said quietly. “I promise.”

And he meant it more than he’d ever meant anything in his life.

From that moment on, Yn didn’t leave him.

The weekend blurred into one long stretch of quiet vigilance. He skipped breakfast and meetings that didn’t matter. He carried her everywhere, wrapped in blankets that smelled like hotel detergent and home all at once. When she woke, he fed her warm soup by the spoonful, blowing on it like she might burn even though he knew better.

“One more,” he coaxed softly, holding the spoon just in front of her mouth. “Please?”

She frowned at it, suspicious and miserable, then opened her mouth anyway.

“Good girl,” he murmured instantly, relief flooding him. “That’s my brave girl.”

She leaned forward as soon as the spoon was empty, pressing her forehead into his chest, exhausted by the effort. Lando wrapped his arms around her, rocking slightly without realizing he was doing it.

When it was time to go to the track, he didn’t hesitate. Yn went with him.

She was bundled in layers, a little hat pulled low over her curls, her body tucked into him like she belonged nowhere else—which, right now, she didn’t. As soon as they stepped into the paddock, the noise and movement around them, her grip tightened.

“Shh,” he murmured, ducking his head instinctively to shield her. “It’s okay. Dada’s got you.”

Max fell into step beside him without a word, body angling just enough to block lenses and curious eyes. It was so natural it made Lando’s chest ache.

“She’s not great,” Lando said under his breath.

Max nodded, glancing down at the small face tucked into Lando’s shoulder. “I see.”

Yn coughed, a little harder this time, and Lando felt it like a physical blow.

“Easy, angel,” he whispered, rubbing her back. “You’re okay.”

“Maxie,” Yn mumbled sleepily when she noticed him.

Max’s expression softened immediately. “Hey, peanut.”

She didn’t smile, but she relaxed a fraction, and that alone felt like a victory.

The only time Lando let her go was when he absolutely had to.

She was half-awake when he crouched in front of her, helmet in hand, trying to explain in words meant for adults why he had to leave her.

“Just for a bit,” he said gently. “I’ll be right back.”

“No,” she murmured, arms tightening around his neck. “Stay.”

His throat closed.

“I know,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “I want to. I promise I do.”

When Max took her, she whimpered, reaching back for him, and Lando had to turn away faster than he wanted to so no one would see his face.

The drive passed in a haze. All he could think about was the feel of her weight against his chest, the sound of her cough, the heat of her skin. When he finally climbed out of the car and handed his helmet off, he went straight back to her.

She was asleep again, bundled in Max’s arms, one tiny hand wrapped around his finger.

Lando took her back without a word, holding her like she was something breakable and sacred all at once.

That night, back in the hotel room, Yn slept sprawled across his chest, her breathing slow and steady for the first time all day. The fever was easing. He didn’t move, didn’t even think about sleep, just lay there with his hand resting over her back, memorizing the feeling of her alive and warm and here.

“I love you so much,” he whispered into her hair. “It hurts.”

Yn sighed in her sleep and pressed closer, and Lando held her, knowing with painful clarity that no race, no win, no weekend would ever matter as much as this.

user5: it’s even funnier how her body language would change, in the mclaren garage she would be all gloomy but once she ran back to redbull it was arms up partying

lewishamilton: i wouldn’t say alll world championships are overrated

yourusername: shut up lewis hamilton 7x world champion, arguably the best f1 driver in existence, kind, humble, handsome and—would you like do go on a date with me?

maxverstappen1: excuse me?

yourusername: i don’t know what happened max, i was i insulting him and next thing i knew i wanted him on my lap

lewishamilton: i feel…odd

yourusername: good odd or bad odd

lewishamilton: i can’t tell…

yourusername: come over to the redbull garage to find out 😼

landonorris: genuinely, what the fuck is going on?

maxverstappen1: i don’t know, so i’ve decided to ignore it

landonorris: ignoring what ever that was, thank you 🧡

yourusername: say it

landonorris: say what

yourusername: say ‘i love you’ you emotionally stunted gremlin

landonorris: i don’t…

yourusername: say it lando

maxverstappen1: yeah cmon lando, say it

landonorris: too like both of you or?..

maxverstappen1: yes, tell your brother in law that you love him

landonorris: okay first, you’re not my brother in law, second, i don’t feel very comfortable right now

yourusername: say it with me lando, “i loveee youuu”

landonorris: guys…

yourusername: SAY IT

maxverstappen: CMON LANDO SAY IT

yourusername: SAY IT

yourusername: SAY IT

landonorris: OK I LOVE YOU GUYS

user6: is this the peer pressure my school always warned me about?

user7: no…that was just, sad.

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 761,018 others!

yourusername: THATS MY FOUR TIME WORLD CHAMPION!!! THIS IS FOR ALL THE BUMS WHO SAID HE WAS NOTHING BUT A PRETTY MAN IN A FAST CAR, NOW WHAT????? NOBODY COMPARES TO MAX FUCKING VERSTAPPEN. AND YOU ALL BETTER REMEMBER THAT.

view comments below!

user8: now it’s time to hit the club

yourusername: i’ll be crying in the club, thank you very much

user9: crying for lando, partying for max, it’s perfect

user10: you are the perfect amount of supportive to both lando and max

maxverstappen1: ik houd van je 💙

yourusername: @/landonorris

landonorris: i don’t speak dutch??

yourusername: he just told me he loved me loser

landonorris: o-kay?

yourusername: gosh you are so emotionally unintelligent, it makes me sick

landonorris: i just lost the world championship please be kind to me

yourusername: im your sister which basically means i lost the championship too, yet i still tell you i love you?

landonorris: THATS NOT HOW THAT WORKS

yourusername: I LOVE YOU LANDO

landonorris: LEAVE ME ALONE

maxverstappen1: we should get married in vegas

yourusername: oh my god, yes. but no elvis because he freaks me out

maxverstappen1: CHARLES SHOULD MARRY US

charles_leclerc: guys…i would be honored

yourusername: i don’t know max, i have a feeling you’ll run away with him and leave me at the alter

maxverstappen1: yeah…that probably will happen 😔, it’s okay, lando can marry us!!!

username omg alex’s first appearance in the paddock !!!

username she’s truly one of the most beautiful women i’ve seen

username let’s all thank yn’s mind for bringing these two together 💕

ynnorris my babies 🥹🫶🏽 (liked by charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux)

username still can’t believe if it wasn’t for yn they wouldn’t be together

username i just love when hot people date each other 😍

username and they’re matching too 🥺

liked by oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes and others

ynnorris currently in monaco looking for my next project ❤️‍🩹

tagged landonorris, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and alexandrasaintmleux

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username not her saying she’s looking for a “project” after setting up charles and alex 🤣

username the one and only paddock’s cupid 💘

username it’s insane how she sets everyone up and she’s still single

username the prettiest girl❣️

oscarpiastri you literally posted a pic playing padel, there’s you next project

ynnorris padel is for the weak who can’t play tennis

maxverstappen1 hey!

alexandrasaintmleux charge €10 per tarot reading 🫶🏽

ynnorris alexandra malena your mind is immaculate 🤌🏽

liked by logansargeant, friend1 and others

ynnorris the look from the nosebleeds🩸

tagged logansargeant and friend1

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username why on earth wasn’t she at the garage???

username babes your brother is a literal driver what are you doing there

ynnorris he kicked me out :(

lissiemackintosh shame on you landonorris

landonorris that’s literally fake she just wanted to see how it looked from up there

oscarpiastri i can confirm

ynnorris no one asked you‼️ oscarpiastri

username and who’s that with logan 👀

username omg not another one of yn friends 😭

username she took the paddock’s cupid name too seriously

logansargeant send me that last pic

ynnorris ask friend1 🤭

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and others

oscarpiastri exploring more of monaco🇲🇨

tagged logansargeant, ynnorris and friend1

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username can’t believe he’s moving there

username we lost the game of keeping f1 drivers out of monaco

username not oscar hard launching logan’s relationship 😭

username i genuinely think yn hard launched them first in her last post

username hard launch between yn and oscar when

username no because was this a double date orrr???

username logan and his new gf, no lando, oscar and yn next to each other … hmm …

ynnorris you look cute 🥰 friend1

friend1 youuuu 💕

logansargeant 🤨🤨

friend1 you look cute too ig

logansargeant 😊

oscarpiastri no flirting on my instagram please

ynnorris boooo 🍅🍅🍅

liked by oscarpiastri, trentarnold66 and others

ynnorris post-beach clarity 🏝

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username the only woman ever

username 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

lissiemackintosh my girlfriend 🥵 (liked by ynnorris)

username obsessed with you

username face card is insaaaane

username oscar is very slow

trentarnold66 damn😍

landonorris uhm 🤨

charlesleclerc 🤨

maxverstappen1 🤨

pierregasly 🤨

lancestroll 🤨

lewishamilton 🤨

ynnorris all of you leave rn.

ynnorris except you lewishamilton you can stay 🥰

liked by friend2 and others

f1gossip some drivers were seen clubbing at monaco this weekend including oscar piastri with a mysterious brunette. yn norris and lissie mackintosh were also at the party

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username who’s the girl with oscar?

username i believe it’s friend2 but i could be wrong

username omg and look who follows her 🤭

username yn once again playing cupid but this time with the wrong guy 😩

username no because i wanted her and oscar to date so bad i thought they liked each other :(

username but look at the bright side!!! she’s been rumored to be dating trent alexander arnold so is not all bad

username i guess 😔

liked by f1gossip and others

footballwags trent alexander-arnold was seen recently with rumored girlfriend spending some time at the beach

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username excuse me what

username i thought his rumored girlfriend was yn norris? who is this?

username guys i think trent and yn were never really together

username you think?

username trentyn goodbye goodbye goodbye you were bigger than the whole sky

username tbh i can’t be mad at this

username same

liked by oscarpiastri, lissiemackintosh and others

ynnorris took a trip down under 🇦🇺

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username OMG GUYSSS THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username so we weren’t completely delusional huh😭

lissiemackintosh can’t believe you’re cheating on me 😔

ynnorris you’re my number one always! 🫶🏽

username she’s so gorgeous i’m speechless

username yn give me a chance pls pls pls

oscarpiastri you’re too much 😍

ynnorris do you want an australian kiss? 😛

aussiegrit kids please

username last pic is peak boyfriendism 🥵

The answer wasn’t what. The answer was found in the person being dragged behind him, almost running to keep up with his brisk pace. You.

It was your first race since last year’s Silverstone—where you’d been flanked by your entire family and therefore hadn’t been alone for a single second—so your older brother was terribly afraid that you would somehow get lost and scared and hurt, and he would be damned if that happened on his watch. Not when his parents so very generously had given him responsibility of you for the weekend. A responsibility he took very seriously. 

It was no secret that you were Lando’s baby. The youngest of five, you were the whole family’s baby to be completely precise, but Lando had always been especially fond of you. 

Maybe it came from the little boy who was shorter than two of his younger sisters and therefore claimed the third his favourite. Maybe it was the way you had always looked up him; staring at him through big, admiring eyes as though he could do nothing wrong, even when he felt like he screwed up everything. Or maybe it was just a classic case of caring older brother who remembered the small, innocent baby who had been placed in his seven-year-old arms and wanted you to stay that way forever.  

Whatever it was, it was clear to everyone that you were Lando’s baby. 

“You’ll stay right here, okay?” Lando was looking at you with his most serious expression, and you bit your cheek to stop yourself from reminding him that you had turned eighteen last month. Technically, you were an adult now, and he didn’t have the same power over you that he used to, but you were pretty sure that he wouldn’t like to hear that, so you held yourself back and instead gave him a nod in reply.

“I won’t move a single inch, Lan, I swear.” You assure him, holding back a giggle at his deep frown. “I’ve been here before, you know.”

“Yeah, but never alone.” He looked around worriedly, as if willing a familiar face to spring out and look after you. “There isn’t even someone from Oscar’s family to keep you company.”

“I think I’ll be fine either way.” 

He didn’t seem convinced, far from actually, but when he was called upon by his PR-manager, he had no choice but to leave you to your own devices, but not without a lingering kiss to your hair and yet another warning look that you shrugged off with a teasing smile. 

-

Oscar couldn’t recognise you. He was standing in the hospitality, waiting for his morning coffee to be made, when he spotted you from across the room. You were sitting alone on the best sofa with a glass of iced tea resting beside you like it was the most normal thing in the world, but he had no idea who you were.

The area around the screens was usually reserved for friends and family of the drivers, but he was alone this weekend and Lando hadn’t mentioned anyone coming either. Maybe you were confused and had planted yourself there by mistake. It didn’t hurt anyone, he thought to himself, deciding to let the matter rest, but when you turned around and he caught sight of your face, it seemed that any excuse to start up a conversation with you would be good.

He wasn’t a very poetic person, had barely passed English literature in high school, but the way you looked could simply not be described as anything but divine. 

His breath hitched in his throat and when his coffee was placed on the counter, he picked it up with more eagerness than ever before and set off towards the couch.

“Hi,” He was smiling politely, trying desperately not to seem too diligent. “Are you lost?” 

You looked up from your phone, surprised. “No, I don’t think so. Am I not allowed to sit here?”

“Well, this area is actually reserved for family of the drivers…” He shrugged apologetically.

“Oh, well I am family! Have we never met? I’m Lando’s sister.” You hesitated for a moment, scanning his face. It was the first time you saw him up close, but he looked exactly as he did on all the pictures you had found yourself staring at a bit too long. 

He was taken aback for a moment, a frown forming between his eyebrows. “Really? I’ve never seen you around before. I’m Oscar.”

He held out his hand, and you took it, shaking it carefully. His skin was warm and rough, contrasting to your smooth palms. 

“I know.” You answered. “That you’re Oscar, I mean. I think everyone here knows that.”

He held back a smile, a small blush forming on his cheeks. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You both smiled for a moment, keeping eye contact. “Well, sorry for assuming that you didn’t know what you were doing.” He looked around for a moment. “Can I join you?”

You smiled. “Yeah, of course.” You scooted to the side, allowing him to sit.

-

That night, after had Lando dropped you off at the hotel room directly across from his (because apparently a few meters was paramount to your safety), you were lying awake, tossing and turning. 

Your conversation with Oscar kept playing in your mind; the way he looked at you, eyes full of wonder, the way his hand accidently brushed yours, causing warmth to flutter through your body, and most importantly, the way he paid so close attention to what you were saying, as if you weren’t a young teenager, but instead an intelligent equal, with interesting knowledge and opinions. It had left you flustered, staring after him when he eventually had to leave for his obligations.

He was cute. 

-

The rest of the race weekend went by routinely, Lando breathing down your neck as always, following you around like an overly eager guard dog, but this time, you kept sneaking glances to the other side of the garage, hoping to catch a look at Oscar. Just a small glimpse of his blond hair would have made you happy, but it was near impossible when Lando insisted you stay in the far corner, out of “harm’s way”.

Therefore, it was no surprise when you boarded the plane towards London on Monday with no other interactions with Oscar than your first conversation, and even though you couldn’t explain why, it made your heart ache in a weird way. Apparently, he felt the same. 

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Oscar ended up staying almost a week, sleeping in your apartment with you, waiting on your couch when you came home from university, and making dinner together each evening in your small kitchen. You had become almost domestic by the time he had to leave again, and you felt as though you had known the crooked smiled boy for years, not a mere few weeks, when it finally came to saying goodbye at the airport. Oscar was hesitant to leave as well, stopping several times to look back, even after you’d hugged and kissed for more time than considered normal.

When he finally was out of sight, you stood still for a moment too, felling heavier than you had in a while, now that you had to go home to an empty apartment for the first time in what felt like forever. 

You were just about to turn around when your phone buzzed in your hand. Oscar was calling.

You picked up on the second ring, immediately pressing the phone to your ear as a smile broke onto your face again.

“Hi,” Your voice was a bit breathless even though you were standing completely still. 

“Hi,” he retorted, a smile evident in his voice. “I just wanted to hear your voice again. Make sure you weren’t just a dream I made up.”

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“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Lando was distressed, pacing the floor of your apartment as his voice gradually got louder. He was high on adrenaline, shaking from the inside and out, but his voice was firm.

“I do know what I’m doing. I’m in a mature, committed relationship with a guy that I like.” You were sitting on the couch, staying infuriatingly calm and standing your ground despite the way he was riling you up.

“You don’t know what a mature relationship is.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You’ve had what? One boyfriend? One fucking high school boyfriend?” The way he stood, tall and deafening, while you slowly shrank in on yourself on the couch made you feel like a little kid again. “Don’t act like you know anything about a mature relationship. You don’t. And Oscar is taking advantage of that.”

His words pierced like a blade in your stomach, twisting around a knife he had planted when he first started shouted.

“Don’t be mean.” Your voice broke on the last syllable. “You don’t know anything, Lando.”

He flinched at the way you said his name. No teasing, no affection, no Lan. He softened his voice then, still demeaning, still piercing through you, but quieter now, more like the careful softness he usually held around you. 

“I do know, though.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I have seven years more experience than you in every field there is. And you who also has that? Oscar.”

“He’s not using me, Lan. He’s not.” You were crying now, couldn’t stop it when he was looking at you like that, like you were letting him down. He was making you question everything about the boy who had slept so many nights in your bed, caressing your hair, kissing your bare skin, and telling you how beautiful you were. Had it really been too good to be true? Had it been lies upon lies?

Lando’s resolve softened even further when he caught sight of your tears, a cooing sound immediately escaping him. He tried to reach out, to comfort you the same way he had done so many times before, but you flinched away, willing yourself to disappear completely into the couch and he swore he felt his heart break in his chest. 

“Just think about it, okay? Don’t jump into it too fast.” His hand was hovering over your back, fingers clenching in desperation. He just wanted to stop the tears still streaming freely from your eyes. “I just want what’s best for you. You know that.”

And you knew that. That was the worst part. That was the problem. 

sex and talking. sex and talking. sex and talking.

that’s what you do, oscar and you.

you watch him all weekend, eyes trailing his lean frame, the way his body moves under papaya fabric. then, when your brother finally leaves you alone, you sneak into oscar’s arms, room, bed, whatever’s closest.

you have your way with one another, nothing untouched, unexplored, and then you talk and talk until your lips hurt from stretched out grins and a satisfying ache sets into your spent limbs. you sneak out when the sun comes up the next day and join lando for breakfast in whatever hotel you’re in that weekend.

rinse, repeat.

you can remember the first time you saw him in real life, way back in early 2023, clear as day. you were in bahrain with your brother for testing, the sun in your eyes, and there he was. awkward, stocky, hands buried deep in his mclaren administered slacks. he was littered with moles, mousey brown hair catching the rays of light, chocolate eyes conveying cool confidence that didn’t at all match up with his uncomfortable stance. you could kiss over those moles like a game of dot to dot, tug on his strands that looked like smooth chocolate frosting, sink into his brown irises until you drowned.

lando had caught you staring, sending his elbow into your ribs, and when you turned to glare at him, cuss him out, you saw a look of warning. his eyes said: don’t you fucking dare.

and you didn’t dare, not for a while at least.

-

“o-osc.” you whine, panting through the waves of eye-watering pleasure.

he’s got you laid out across his massage table, two fingers scissoring into your sodden cunt as his thumb bumps your clit in messy circles.

it’s rare that you sneak away so brazenly like this during a race weekend.

“you gotta be quiet.” oscar shushes you, eyes flitting between your own watery pair and his fingers where they’re working you open.

“trying.” you breathe, slapping your own hand over your mouth when your belly tightens one last time. one wrong move and the entirety of the hospitality suite will know. lando will know. perhaps all of china will know. that’s how good he fucking feels.

you sob into your palm, bucking your hips wildly as you fall apart, spilling all around his relentless fingers. he fucks you through it, grinning coyly as your muffled cries subside.

“c’mere.” oscar lulls, pulling you back towards him. he kisses you deeply, smiling against your lips.

“i should go.” you mumble, pushing his hair back and raking your fingers through his hair.

oscar nods apathetically, reserved all of the sudden. you frown, stealing another quick kiss. you stumble to your feet fixing your underwear and your skirt, and grab your bag from the small sofa.

“we need to be more careful.” his words make your blood run cold.

“more careful?”

you sneak in and out of hotel rooms under the cover of night, you have his name disguised in your phone, you never speak to him in public.

“this was risky.” oscar shrugs. he looks antsy, his entire demeanour changing in a matter of minutes, the ecstasy of watching you writhe all for him worn off.

“this- i- you’re the one who dragged me in here, piastri.” you accuse. ‘piastri’ is reserved for when you’re pissed off, a cagey step back from the affection ‘osc’ that you usually called him. “whatever, i’ve got to go.”

“i’ll see you later?” he poses it as a question, uncertain that you’ll show. he has never been uncertain before, not with you, not with a lot of things. bile rises in your throat, and you scoff.

you can’t reply. the door slams behind you.

-

“where’ve you been?” lando ruffles your hair, a single eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“got bored with watching you look at data so i went for a walk.” you reply nonchalantly, pushing his hand away.

he hums in response, nodding slowly. it’s like he doesn’t quite believe you but he quickly moves on.

“you coming out with us after the race tomorrow?” lando asks.

“depends on who ‘us’ is.” you reply curtly. you don’t wanna look at oscar’s stupid, handsome face for a second longer than you have to. a familiar sadness sinks into your bones.

“couple of the drivers, alex, carlos, oh and oscar might even be swayed.” you grit your teeth, suddenly frustrated. “anyway, since when do you have beef with drivers? little miss sunshine fallen out with someone?” lando sounds confused, accusatory.

you stay silent, walking into the back of the garage, praying someone will come and steal your brother away.

“hey, you gonna tell me what the problem i-?”

“lando, we need you to look at this.” your brother gets cut off by a frantic engineer, your prayers answered, and is quickly lost to the chaos of the garage.

a pair of warm eyes burn into the side of your head. you turn to see oscar watching you, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s studying you. he’s fidgeting, playing with his fingers, something strange for the man as cool as a cucumber. you look away as quickly as you can, managing to tear your eyes away from him, a lump forming in your throat which you swallow down.

it’s painful, really. sex and talking, it’s not enough, never has been for even a second. oscar piastri, australian f1 driver, number 81, quickly became your oscar, somewhat against your will.

-

somewhere in hungary, about 8 months ago

“are we really doing this, piastri?” you giggle, throwing your head back as his lips work your neck.

“need you.” he groans into your skin, low and needy. you’ve never heard him sound so disheveled, so desperate, a far cry from his usual, monotonous self.

“want you, osc.” you pant when his lips find your sweet spot, the feeling of him so delicious on your body.

“have me.” he whispers, falling into bed with you in his lap.

you lay there basking in stunned silence afterwards, a layer of sweat coating your knackered body. your shoulder is pressed flush with oscar’s, not an inch of space between you while you both stare at the ceiling, sporting matching lazy grins.

“i can’t believe we did that.” oscar mutters, a layer of disbelief in his voice.

“i think we should do it again.” you tease, except you are deadly serious.

“agreed.” he breathes.

“this stays between us, right?” you whisper, shyly.

“always.”

-

always makes your skin crawl now. you’re sick of having him in the dark, of having to avoid him in public for fear of turning into a lovesick fool. it’s embarrassing, really, unrequited love.

you can barely follow qualifying, staring blankly at the empty space in the garage where oscar’s car resides. you manage to catch the radio message through the headset you have on, the one where oscar’s muttering about a stupid mistake that’s just knocked him out. he’s limping back to the pits, licking his wounds.

you feel a pang in your chest, sympathetic and disappointed for him. you wonder what his mistake was, where his mind was. you’ll wait for the right moment, swallow the ache in your heart and your pride, and you’ll comfort him. he gets led away by frustrated engineers immediately, studying lines of data with furrowed eyebrows. you watch from afar, but then your heart sinks to your feet when four words sound through your headphones.

“lando, are you okay?”

will sounds stressed, repeating the four words that make your world stop spinning on its axis. everyone in the garage is staring at the tv screen, breaths held, stomachs tight.

your brothers car sits in tatters, carbon fibre littering the track. you can see the fluorescents of his helmet burrowed in the cockpit, still. your mouth hangs open, one hand clutching your chest, the other covering your quivering lips. you’re numb.

that feeling returns, the one of eyes burning into your weathered features. your wide eyes flit to the australian boy watching you from across the garage, and you beg silently for him to just come to you, pull you close, tell you that lando is okay and that he loves you back.

and lando is okay, his winded voice reassuring you over the radio.

but you stand there alone.

just like always.

-

somewhere in brazil, about 5 months ago

“what’s your favourite colour?” oscar mumbles lazily, lips bumping your cheekbone.

you’re curled up on his lap watching the sunset from his balcony. he was well behind lando after qualifying, and he’d craved a moment alone with you all day.

the air was thick, humid, the hot orange sun sinking far off in the horizon. you turn to face him, his features illuminated by the hazy glow. the sunlight makes his chocolate eyes sparkle warmly, so pretty.

“brown.” you whisper, scanning his face.

he laughs lowly, his chest rumbling.

“brown?” he questions teasingly.

“yep.” you grin, pecking his lips softly.

“why?”

“go look at those pretty eyes of yours in the mirror.” you retort smoothly, threading your fingers through his shower-damp strands.

“you flirting with me?”

“you bet i am.”

you twist back around, facing the view once more, moulding into his body. he kisses over your shoulder, resting his chin. you stay there content until the sun is gone and the stars twinkle.

-

the air in the room is thick, awkwardly silent.

he stands leaning against the desk, opposite where you sit on your bed. the lights are low in your hotel room, the imprint of your body still fresh against the mattress. you’d been crying when he knocked, eyes rimmed red, skin flushed raw.

“you just stood there.” you croak.

“love, i-“

“don’t call me that. please.”

hurt flashes across his features, but like he knows it’s not fair of him to complain, he buries it immediately.

“i just… will you hear me out?” oscar pleads quietly.

you nod feebly.

“it’s impossible. this, us. i wanted to go to you but i- i couldn’t, i didn’t know how that would look and i didn’t want to jeopardise this.”

“but you did.” you whisper. his face shatters, falling fast.

“no, no, i can be there when you need me-“

“but you weren’t!” you cry, your body physically sinking, your shoulders drooping.

“i can fix this, i will.”

“i think we need to stop this, osc. it’s too painful for me. i’ve tried to move past the hurt but after today…” your voice shakes and you crumble, the first tear falling.

“i’m not trying to hurt you.” he crosses the space between you in two rushed steps, collapsing to his knees before you.

“that’s not good enough.” you bite back. “i’m not going to be some guys dirty little secret. i won’t do it anymore oscar.”

“i was trying to protect you… this.” he gestures between you desperately

“i know, oscar. i know! but i never asked you to do that. i can’t love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life.” the words slip from your tongue, abrasive and messy, before your brain can catch up.

you grimace, biting your tongue, but oscar’s reaction couldn’t be further from your own. his watery eyes widen, pink lips pulling into a boyish grin.

“i don’t want to love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life either.” oscar whispers, tentatively taking your hands. you stare down at your slowly intertwining fingers, a familiar warmth oozing through your body. “i wanna love you everywhere.”

“show me.” you murmur through shaky breath.

“i will.” he leans in, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “for as long as you let me, i will.”

“just come here.” your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, one born of frustration, and longing, and a year of late night talking about everything except how much you love each other.

oscar pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you, starving. you pull him flush against you, leaving no room between your bodies. you crave the feel of his entire weight pressing you into the mattress and as he does, you feel at home. when you pull apart, catching your breaths, he says it properly, for the first time, and the world gets lighter.

“i love you.” oscar cups your jaw, those chocolate eyes boring into yours, the intensity of it knocking you for six. “always.” he adds.

the meaning of the word changes. always doesn’t mean a shameful, taboo secret anymore. life is breathed into the six lettered word; always means you and him, together, finally out of the shadows.

“i love you, osc.” you whisper.

he’s smiling when he kisses you again, unbuttoning your blouse like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the offending item off of your frame. you retaliate by shoving his t-shirt up his back, tugging greedily at it to strip him bare. the material comes off easily and as he sits up to throw it away, you shrug off your blouse and it meets his shirt on the floor. his hands smooth over your curves, brushing the pudge of your belly as he finds the zip of your skirt, ruining the fasten in his state of haste. you barely notice the way he’s ruined the item of clothing, urgently unbuttoning his jeans. your underwear is gone too, nothing separating you but your bra, restless hands on heated skin.

“we need to be quiet.” you breathe. “lando’s next door.” oscar giggles, tinged pink.

“get on top, love.” he drawls, flipping onto his back and taking you with him.

he sits up with you in his lap, nothing anchoring either of you in the middle of the bed. the imprint of your devastated form is gone, replaced by the shape of him. you can feel the head of his cock nudging through your folds, slicking him up so that he can slide nice and deep. he trails his fingers between your legs, thumbing at your clit in deft circles, just the way he knows you like it. you’re mewling in his lap, grinding down on the pad of his thumb; it’s so good but it’s not enough.

“please, osc.” you pant, urging him to let you sink down on his cock. you can see how red it is, feel the way it throbs for you, and the need to be full of him is almost paralysing.

“come on, pretty girl. fill yourself up.” oscar mutters against the shell of your ear.

he kisses down your throat as you slide down on him, dropping your hips firm against his.

“fuck.” you cry, your forehead falling against his shoulder.

“you okay, sweetheart? feel so good for me.” oscar coos, his fingertips digging hard into your hips.

“so good, baby.” your head rolls back, feeling him hit that spot tucked away within your walls.

your breaths mingle, your breasts flush against his chest, and as if he realises that he never stripped you of your pesky bra, he grunts, unclasping the black lace and flinging it somewhere far away. he gently mumbles an awestruck “fuck”, as if he hasn’t seen your tits a million and one times before, and latches onto your nipple. his tongue works in slow circles, matching the pace of your hips working languidly on his cock, and you keen further into his body.

“prettiest girl for me.” oscar grits out, his eyes squeezing shut when you clamp down on him, hard.

you’re both trying so hard to be quiet, overwhelmed by touch and taste, love. you’re growing tired, hurtling towards a desperate release, and oscar can sense it, the feel of your quivering thighs tightening around his hips spurring him on. he grinds up into you, maintaining your pace, but he’s fucking you harder now, the anticipation of your release sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna cum for me?” oscar grunts, holding your hips down against him. you can’t move, his hold too tight and your body too tired, all you can do is wait for your orgasm to hit like a ton of bricks. you nod frantically.

“yes, oscar, please baby.” you beg for it, and like the true gentleman he is, the calloused pad of his pointer finger finds its home on your clit, sending you into an upwards spiral.

it’s as if you’re levitating when you let go, in a dreamlike state, your teeth sinking hard into his pale shoulder to muffle a surefire whine of his name. he’s rutting into you, prolonging the bliss.

“cum inside of me.” you urge, voice barely above a whisper. well, you’ve certainly never done this before.

oscar’s eyes roll into the back of his head, tears pricking his lash line. a guttural gasp of your name spills from his lips when he lets go, painting your insides warm and white. you stare at the tiny indents your teeth had left on his thick shoulder, his breath hitting the crook of your neck warm and wet as he comes down.

“‘m yours, and i’m here. i’m always gonna be here, i promise.” oscar speaks so quietly that you wonder if you’ve imagined it.

-

“when i made that mistake today, i was thinking about you.”

you’ve been laying there in silence for a while now, tucked under his arm when he speaks. you turn to look at him, perplexed.

“what?”

“i felt so awful about what i said after we, you know. you looked so upset with me, and i don’t blame you.” oscar sighs.

“i just don’t want to feel like a shameful secret, osc.” you tell him quietly, the words heavy on your tongue.

“you won’t, not anymore. ‘m so sorry, sweetheart.” he lulls, kissing over your hairline.

“how do we make this work? and how are we ever gonna explain this to-“

“lando.” oscar cuts you off, shifting uncomfortable. “he’s going to murder me and my entire bloodline.” he chuckles nervously.

“he won’t murder you. he might put you in a gravel trap, though.” you roll onto your side, smiling teasingly up at him and he rolls his eyes.

“i’ll take the heat. you’re worth it.”

-

“promise me.” you pant, his hips grinding into you. you’re curled into his chest, still spooning and barely awake. he’d woken up needy, and you were even needier, the faint glow of early morning sunshine washing over you through a crack in the beige curtains.

“anything.” oscar stutters, his breath warm against the back of your neck. his nose bumps your skin, teeth scraping the shell of your ear.

you stop meeting his thrusts. he whines low, wordlessly pleading for you to resume. he ruts his hips against your ass, chasing friction.

“tell me it’s all gonna be different now.”

“i already told you, i-“ oscar grunts.

“promise me.” you purposely clamp down on him, a hiss sounding from between his gritted teeth.

“promise, i promise, i love you.”

you giggle, rocking your hips again, fucking yourself onto him once more.

“i know.”

“you gonna let me off the hook?” oscar pants in your ear, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth.

“still gotta prove yourself, piastri.” you moan.

he feels deeper like this and he knows it, revelling in the way he’s filled you up so perfectly. he rolls into you slowly, sliding against each and every spot that makes you squirm. you drop your guard, going limp in his arms to let him finish you off.

“you nearly there, sweetheart? you gonna cum for me, love?” his accents thickens in the mornings, husky and intoxicating. you fall apart, then, and he stays buried inside of you, the only sounds in the room your matching heavy breathing.

“i need you to get dressed.” oscar kisses your cheek.

“kicking me out already?” you feign offence, looking at him over your shoulder.

his fingers come to cup your chin, his forehead resting against yours.

“there’s something we gotta do.”

-

you’re wearing your skirt from the day before, the waistband rolled over to make up for the oscar-destroyed zipper. his hoodie that you’ve stolen almost completely covers the short skirt, and your messy hair and poorly removed makeup don’t do much to convince anyone that you’d actually slept in your own room last night.

still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t really comprehend where oscar is leading you, but when the elevator dings, signalling that you’ve reached the restaurant floor, you’re suddenly painfully awake. time seems to move in slow motion, your tummy twisting as you realise what’s about to happen.

ahead of you, tucked into the corner of the restaurant is your brother, jon, and ashley. lando is already draped in team kit, the papaya of his hoodie blaring obnoxiously for once, a warning sign.

“oscar, what-“

“i’m doing this.” he affirms, speeding up his stride.

oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god.

your heart speeds up, dropping to the pit in your belly when lando notices you, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the bewildering sight before him. his baby sister, disheveled and wide-eyed, and his teammate holding her hand, on a mission.

“what the fuck am i looking at?” lando doesn’t sound angry, per say, more perplexed than anything. there is an edge to his voice that you don’t particularly like, but he hasn’t started swinging yet, you suppose.

“i’m in love with your sister. like, for real. you deserve to know that.” oscar says confidently, somewhat monotonously.

lando opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again, closes it. he repeats the process a few more times, going through the motions of an emotional rollercoaster.

but then, he sighs deeply, a grin of disbelief stretching across his face. jon bangs on the table excitedly, and ash is shaking his head.

“you owe us so much money.” jon laughs, his head tipping back.

“pay up, boss.” ash sticks his hand out expectantly, smirking across the table.

“what… what?” you exclaim, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“i didn’t wanna believe them.” lando shrugs.

“don’t blame you.” oscar chimes in, and you stare between the two mclaren drivers in bewilderment.

“are you okay with this?” you question, staring your brother in the eyes, still a bit disoriented by the entire situation. his face softens, a genuine smile lingering small on his lips.

“if you’re happy, i’ll make my peace with it.” lando’s eyes flit between you and oscar.

all of the sudden, a look of horror crosses his face, and his voice turns stern.

“but,” he inhales shakily. “if i ever, ever, hear again what i think i heard last night,” he glares at oscar, pointing one firm finger at the australian, who stands up a bit straighter. “you’re dead, piastri.”

jon and ash bite back giggles at the empty threat, and you take it upon yourself to put an end to the situation before it gets any more awkward.

“well, on that note!” you sing-song, dragging oscar away.

“and make sure you’re using protection!” lando calls out, panic stricken, big brother mode activated.

“oh my god.” you blush dark pink, speeding up, the elevator in your sights.

“that went well.” oscar quips sarcastically. he looks rather happy with himself.

you kiss him as soon as the metal doors shut.

-

you do go out after the race, but for once it’s not to drink away the memories of a weekend in oscar’s arms. this time, it’s to celebrate the fact that you can love him out loud, and he’ll do the same right back.

you’re dancing in his arms, bright lights in shades of blues and purples streaming over your bodies. oscar holds you close, keeps you wrapped in his arms, despite the shock on the faces of others at the sight of lando norris’s baby sister publicly besotted with his teammate.

when oscar kisses you deep, smiling against your lips that taste like cherry liquor, you know that this last year of your life wasn’t in vain.

you and oscar, you’re built to last.

-

“how did you not see it, mate?” charles beams, crinkles by his eyes from the wide smile he’s sporting. he’s clearly drunk, but lando is too.

it appears he’s clocked the brits sister and her australian suitor on the dance floor.

the monagasque has rocked up to the bar with alex and pierre in tow, the three of them slapping lando on the back as they arrive.

“i guess there were signs.” lando shrugs, dragging his finger over the rim of the crystal glass.

“signs? mate it was obvious.” pierre chuckles, pushing lando’s shoulder.

“wait, you all knew?” lando splutters.

yeah. duh. come on, man.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s funnier.” charles… winks? it’s hard to tell with him.

lando finds you in the crowd, grinning up at oscar like he hung the stars in the sky. the younger mclaren driver returns your look, and it sparks warmth in lando’s chest.

you’re gonna be okay.

-

hehe

-

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