#op81 fluff

Oscar never really considered the fact that so many people were unaware of his home life.

That he's married, he had a little boy at home with another baby on the way and they're settled into a routine and life together even with F1 shaking it up.

They met while they were young and he didn't see point in wasting time in prolonging their inevitable marriage and naturally Alfie came a few months after that.

"How are you feeling?" Oscar asks as he sits in the car on the way to the track.

"My back hurts a little but nothing to be concerned about." Y/n shrugs with a soft smile before sighing. "Alfie is down for his nap. So I'll call you later to chat with him."

"Thank you." Oscar smiles earning a small nod before she sighs softly looking at him. "What?"

"Nothing, I just miss my husband sometimes-and before you feel guilty, it's not about anything other than I am so turned on 24/7 right now."

Oscar almost chokes at her candour, though he recalls this part of her first pregnancy which he took great joy in being part of even if he was terrified about causing any damage or harming the baby.

"I'll make it up to you once I'm home."

"You really don't have a choice." Y/n states earning another laugh.

-

Oscar yawns as he walks in for a dinner that has been planned ahead of the weekend, they have these sorts of dinners a few times a year. The most famous being the Abu Dhabi end of season meal.

"Hey, mate. How you feeling?" George asks as the two McLaren drivers sit down but the question being directed at Lando.

"I'm good. Already looking forward to the weekend being over." Oscar sighs making George frown.

"Already having doubt in yourself?"

"No. God definitely not. But y/n is at a certain point in her pregnancy and I just want to be there for her." Oscar states casually making George's eyes bulge in shock. But he's not the only one since the table falls silent.

"You have a baby on the way?" Max asks making Oscar look around.

"Yes...I've got a toddler too. He's about to turn 2." Oscar smiles just thinking about Alfie.

"How did you never mention that? I've never even met your girlfriend." Lando states making Oscar clear his throat and shift a little.

"You never asked...My wife and I got married at the end of 2023." Oscar states making the table go into a sequence of questioning, some even accusing him of lying.

"I'm offended I wasn't invited." Lando huffs crossing his arms jokingly.

"Any other secrets? We're asking now." Fernando questions making Oscar think for a moment.

"No. I don't think so. Wife, toddler, baby on the way. That's everything I can think of." Oscar shrugs then frowning as his phone rings. "Her ears must be burning, I gotta take this."

He steps out knowing the group are going to question if any of them had any suspicion but not one of them realised just how little they knew about Oscar. An assumption that Logan may have been aware since he's known Oscar so much longer and at one point was very much considered near family.

"Hey, baby. Everything ok?" Oscar asks softly making y/n huff out trying to make a sniffle. "Y/n?"

"I have braxton hicks." Y/n hiccups making Oscar sigh, hating that he's not there to help but she's officially in the third trimester and the doctor is advising against her travelling especially so far. A short couple hours might be allowed but from Las Vegas to Qatar then Abu Dhabi for the final triple header to round off the season. "Where are you?"

"Nowhere important."

"Oh you're at that dinner. I'll-I'll call back later I don't want to-"

"You are my priority, especially if I can't be there physically. Anyway they're all processing the news that I have a wife and kids since no one knew."

"What? How did they not know?-I mean I know I try to keep out the way of people when I'm there, but we don't act like strangers." Y/n rambles. "Did they think you were single?"

Oscar smiles a little sensing her getting possessive over the idea these men might've thought that Oscar would be up for another woman. He's not sure if she'd usually be so offended at the idea of Oscar being single but maybe he should've figured that pregnancy would be a little more upset at the thought of her husband being assumed single.

"Don't worry, I'll make it very clear from here forward that no one else thinks I'm single." Oscar promises earning a hum. "You know...when I get back there is something to celebrate."

"Our anniversary I know. I might be pregnant but my mind hasn't lost me yet." Y/n smiles lightly.

"Leave it all to me. I've got some plans."

The talk for another 5 minutes before y/n insists Oscar get back to the meal and he promises that they'll be talking again later when the dinner is over.

He returns to find the food has arrived and smiles sitting down, though he doesn't get more than a couple bites before George has to ask more questions and Max joins him as a new father on the grid, he's intrigued about Oscar's own journey with fatherhood. Though he doesn't word it quite in that way.

"Got any pictures?" Lando eventually asks and Oscar is happy to provide since despite him not making it a priority to discuss his private life, he is more than happy to share is someone asks.

Everyone make assure to let Oscar know he has a beautiful family, Lando also makes sure to let him know that he's batting out of his league by bagging his wife. Obviously joking but Oscar will take the compliment to y/n.

"We're coming up to the anniversary, thankfully it falls after everything for the season is done." Oscar states earning a small smile from the group since it's really nice getting to know this side of Oscar.

Some of them even realised he wears his wedding ring on his right hand but none of them had thought anything of it earlier when they'd noticed. They definitely didn't think it was a wedding band.

It's not till later when Oscar is on phone call with y/n and Alfie is finally on the call. He's grinning and yapping away with Oscar, mainly gibberish that is an attempt at real words. Y/n and Oscar understand most of what he's saying but when he's especially excited and just talking to talk, he stops using words and make noises that sound like words but aren't.

Oscar captures a couple screenshots and y/n is about to hang up but he asks if he can stay on call for the bedtime routine with Alfie. Plus he just wants to talk to y/n alone and after saying goodnight to Alfie, y/n leaves him in his room. Oscar always have to credit y/n as the most amazing mum because she has got Alfie in a routine and he sleeps through the night almost every night without fail.

"You don't usually want to stay on call for so long. What's up?" Y/n smiles as she settles down with a donut to finish her day. Something in Oscar wants to comment about that choice of snack purely out of concern for her blood sugar (his inner athlete is so nutrient focused but pregnancy hormones don't give a fuck and he learnt that in the first pregnancy) but he also doesn't want to be hung up on and ignored.

"I just want some extra time with you. My beautiful wife." Oscar smiles softly while y/n immediately pouts. "I love you, baby. Not because we have kids together, not because we're married, not because of anything but because you are such an incredible person and sometimes I don't make it obvious but that's how I feel."

Y/ bursts into tears, having to cover her mouth to make sure she doesn't sob and trigger Alfie's reappearance.

"You dick. You did that on purpose." Y/n hiccups while Oscar smiles a little. "I love you too, and you might not make it obvious to everyone else. But you make just how much you love me obvious to me. I never doubt it."

"Well I spent the rest of that dinner bragging about you and our family without apology." Oscar states earning a grin. "I'll be home soon and you will not be lifting a finger. I've got a lot of daddy duties to make up for and you...should not have to be doing this stuff on your own with Alfie when you're this far along."

"Oscar..." Y/n warns since she has never allowed him to feel guilt about working and just doing what he has to for his career. "I'm fine. I miss you like hell, but I missed you like hell before we were married and before we had kids. Alfie is doing great. I'm doing great, baby is doing great. We're all great. You own me nothing."

"I owe you so much more than you realise" Oscar whispers suddenly before smiling. "I'm going to let you sleep. I love you, we'll talk tomorrow. I'm going to play padel."

"I love you too, talk tomorrow and have fun. Try to win...unless it's Carlos, Lance or Fernando. In which case accept a gracious defeat."

You gripped him tighter under the arm, feeling his muscles tense under the thin fabric of his black t-shirt, and involuntarily leaned closer to his neck.

The expected sharp smell of alcohol was there, but it was lost, receding into the background before what you adored to the point of trembling knees. He smelled like a storm that had finally subsided. It was a scent you would recognize among a thousand others. The smell of sun-dried wood and sea salt.

Heat radiated from Oscar’s flushed skin, and this scent was unfolding in a special way right now. It held the freshness of the wind on the Melbourne coast and the tartness of sage, which, mixing with the barely perceptible notes of expensive gin, created an intoxicating cocktail. Oscar always smelled like home.

But this dreamy moment was interrupted by his careless movement toward the bed, and you almost fell with him. You helped him land on the soft mattress, and your boyfriend fell, absolutely exhausted from the party. You ran a quick gaze over his body, sprawled across the middle of the bed, and shook your head, smiling. His black, tight-fitting t-shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing part of his flat stomach, and his white shorts had slipped down a bit on his hips.

"Champion, you definitely overdid it with the victories today," you said and sank to your knees in front of the bed to pull off his massive sneakers.

"I’m so tired..." he mumbled from somewhere above. His legs dropped limply to the floor as you removed his shoes. "But so... happy. Three in a row. Can you imagine?"

You stood up, walked to the nightstand beside the bed, and placed your purse and phone there. He turned his head toward you, and his smile grew wider.

"Are you proud of me?"

Warmth spread through your soul. You were prouder of him than he could imagine.

"I am proud of you," you whispered, leaning down to him and bracing your hands on the bed. Your lips gently touched his temple, and you felt him instantly bury his fingers in your hair. You hadn’t planned anything, just wanted to kiss him gently to express your pride. But Oscar craved more. He intercepted your lips, and his tongue slipped inside your mouth, deepening the kiss. The longer you kissed, the wetter and more chaotic it became.

Oscar pulled you toward him. You tried to resist, but he was stronger. Even drunk, he easily, effortlessly pulled you down next to him. But that wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t want you just lying next to him—he needed to feel all of you. With agility surprising for his state, he threw a leg over your thighs and in a moment, using inertia, pinned you under him.

The air was knocked out of your lungs. He was heavy. His relaxed body seemed to weigh a ton, and he didn't even try to hold himself up, trusting gravity completely. He sprawled over you, pressing you into the mattress with every inch of his body.

"Oscar... you're going to crush me," you laughed, trying to move his shoulder, but it was like moving a rock.

"No," he mumbled into your neck, and you felt his wet, hot smile against your skin. "I'm holding you. You're my main trophy today."

You were too tired for what Oscar had in mind. It was almost three in the morning, and after such a long and eventful day, you only dreamed of sleep.

"Oscar... I want to sleep..." you said. He began rubbing his nose against your cheek, then moved down to your neck, inhaling your scent as deeply as if it were oxygen. And then followed the kisses. His movements were languid, the trails wet, and the desire—obvious.

"You smell... tasty..." he whispered, lazily running his tongue over the sensitive skin behind your ear, sending a herd of goosebumps through you.

You realized: this had to end while you still had the strength to resist. Because a little more—and his lazy, hot kisses, his weight pressing you so pleasantly into the mattress, his scent filling your lungs—would do the job. You could already feel the response warming between your thighs, your body forgetting the fatigue and starting to reach for him. So you gathered all your will into a fist. First—gently. You ran your palm down his back, as if soothing him, and laughed quietly.

"Oscar... you really will crush me. I can't breathe."

He chuckled lazily but lifted his head slightly, looking down at you with those drunk, shining eyes.

"Then I'll make it lighter," he mumbled and tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but the alcohol made his movements clumsy. Instead, he just rolled a bit to the side, still holding you in his arms, and you seized the moment.

Sharply, but playfully, you twisted out from under him, as if wrestling, and slipped down—between his arms, past his chest, past his stomach. He tried to grab you by the waist, but his fingers only slid over the fabric of your dress. You were already at the edge of the bed, on your feet, laughing quietly so as not to wake his hunting instinct too strongly.

"No, no, champion," you said, retreating back toward the bathroom. "The trophy chooses a shower and bed today."

Oscar lay on his side, propped up on an elbow, looking at you with an offended, drunken smile. His hair was disheveled, and in his eyes, you could read disappointment mixed with desire. You saw that he was aroused: the fabric of his shorts was taut, his breathing accelerated. He reached a hand out in your direction, as if wanting to pull you back.

"Hey, come here..." he drawled lazily. "I haven't celebrated properly yet..."

"Celebrate in your dreams," you replied, already standing in the bathroom doorway. "I'll be quick. And don't touch yourself without me, got it?"

He just chuckled, falling back onto the pillow, and you closed the door—not all the way, out of habit.

In the bathroom, you exhaled with relief. Fatigue washed over you in a wave. You took off your dress to feel free, and before getting into the shower, you started washing the makeup off your face. Although there wasn’t much, skincare was mandatory. The face in the mirror looked tired but happy. You managed quickly and leaned down to wash with cool water.

When you lifted your head, drops were running down your cheeks, and when the water finally stopped blurring your vision, you saw Oscar in the mirror. He was standing in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame. The black t-shirt was still slightly ridden up; the white shorts, low on his hips, did not hide his erection. He looked at you silently, and you saw mischievous sparks in his eyes. You wiped your face with a paper towel and turned to him.

You looked at his arousal and raised your eyes, meeting his.

"What? Want to shower first?" you asked, not without a dose of sarcasm, hinting that he needed to calm down.

But Oscar didn’t answer. He pushed off the doorframe and slowly approached you. There was not even a hint of drunkenness in his movements now. His eyes ran from bottom to top over your almost naked body. You turned back to the mirror and realized that now you were definitely trapped. In a moment, he was behind you. His large, solid body pressed you against the vanity with the sink. His lips found your neck again, and his fingers, which just a moment ago were on your waist, slid down your stomach to the place that had begun to pulse. You felt his aroused cock against your buttocks.

"Oscar, I'm really tired," you said almost inaudibly, because his fingers had already found their way to your wet folds. You felt his touch and gripped the edge of the cold marble countertop with your palms. The mirror in front of you fogged up from your breath, but you still saw his reflection: eyes dark, shining, a sly drunken smile, but absolutely confident.

"I know," he answered right by your ear. "But you said it yourself... don't touch myself without you. Besides, you started it..."

His fingers on your pussy moved slowly, you would even say teasingly—not penetrating, just circling around your center. You reacted instantly: your hips pushed forward on their own, seeking more pressure, but he evaded, keeping you on the edge.

"Mmm..." you tried to protest one more time, but nothing came out, just an uncontrollable moan escaped.

He pressed harder—you felt his full length, hot and hard, through the thin fabric of his shorts against your buttocks. With one hand he held you by the waist, not letting you pull away, with the other—he continued these slow, unbearable caresses.

"You're wet," he whispered, as if surprised, as if it were a discovery for him. "Very wet. And this is after you were 'tired'?"

You bit your lip, trying not to give away how much this turned you on—specifically this drunken confidence of his, this playful cruelty, knowing you wouldn't run away now.

He turned you to face him. You ended up sandwiched between his body and the sink. His lips found yours—the kiss was greedy, passionate, wetter from the alcohol, but one that made your head spin. While he kissed you, his fingers slid down again—this time inside, unhurriedly sinking into you. You arched, pressing against his palm. Your own hands slipped under his t-shirt, lifting it up as if urging him to take it off, and Oscar, without thinking twice, got rid of it in a moment, remaining only in shorts.

He returned to your lips as soon as he fulfilled your silent request and tore away from you only when you both needed air. He looked into your eyes—and smiled. This Oscar was not at all like the one you were used to seeing in bed.

He touched your thong and pulled it down. It fell, gathering at your ankles, and the cool air touched your moist folds. Oscar grabbed you by the thighs. One sharp, confident movement—and you were off the floor. The cold of the marble countertop burned your bare buttocks and thighs when he sat you on it, but that cold instantly vanished under the pressure of his hot body. Oscar unceremoniously spread your knees wider, settling between them so tightly that not a millimeter of free space remained.

Now your faces were on the same level. In his eyes splashed dark, intoxicating pleasure—he saw you trembling, and he liked it.

"Osc..." you tried to say something, but he didn't let you finish. His lips attacked yours again—not just kissing, but as if consuming you. But this time he didn't stop at the lips.

He began real torture. Oscar covered your jawline with kisses, descending to your neck, intentionally lingering on the most sensitive points where the blood pulsed. He sucked on the tender skin, alternating it with light bites that made you arch back, nearly hitting the back of your head against the mirror.

He didn’t take off the bra you were still wearing; he just yanked it, and it rode up, freeing your breasts.

His lips fell to your aroused nipples, and he caressed them with his tongue. The arousal intensified from these caresses because your breasts were an erogenous zone for you, and Oscar knew it well.

His hand ended up between your bodies, found the place that was the main trophy for him. And he acted ruthlessly.

His fingers moved inside in a rhythm he set himself, completely ignoring your chaotic attempts to adjust. He would speed up, sharply thrusting deeper and forcing you to throw your head back, then almost stop, barely touching, teasing you to tears. It was masterful, planned overstimulation. And you didn’t know what you were being punished for. Was it for running away?

You felt everything at once: the cold stone under your palms, the heat of his breath on your chest, and this unbearably sweet pressure below. Your moan became louder, echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom.

"Shhh..." he whispered right into your mouth, stealing your breath. "The neighbors will hear..."

"Then... you... need... to stop..." you barely said, and your voice still broke into a loud moan from the overstimulation. Oscar had no intention of stopping, and you realized this when he sped up his movements. A wave of pleasure was already rising to your throat, your body tensed, preparing for the explosion. You instinctively squeezed his shoulders, pushing your hips toward his hand, begging for the finale.

But he sensed it. And abruptly stopped.

His fingers froze inside, ceasing movement exactly the second it was vitally necessary. Your body trembled treacherously from the incompleteness, and you opened your eyes, looking at him with a mixture of indignation and despair.

Oscar looked at you, breathing heavily, with a self-satisfied smile atypical for him. He ran his thumb over your lower lip, enjoying your reaction.

"Hmm... I'd like to try something else," he said. You let out a loud breath, feeling resentment that he tortured you so much but didn't allow you to come.

When he dropped to his knees and his face was right between your legs, you felt your walls contract in anticipation of his actions.

Oscar placed his palms on your thighs, spreading your legs even wider and securely fixed you in this defenseless position.

At first, you felt only his hot, ragged breath scorching your most sensitive skin, causing your stomach muscles to contract involuntarily. And then his tongue touched you—softly, broadly, from bottom to top, gathering all your juices.

"Mgh!..." you threw your head back, pressing the back of your head against the mirror. The cold of the glass sobered you a little, but the heat below was unbearable.

Oscar was in no hurry. It seemed he decided to taste every millimeter of you. He kissed the inside of your thighs, slowly approaching the center, teasing you with his slowness. His tongue moved confidently and wetly, and you felt him enjoying the taste as if you were his favorite vanilla ice cream.

But the real torture began when he focused on your clitoris. He didn't apply strong pressure, no. He barely touched it with the tip of his tongue, vibrating quickly, then suddenly switched to slow, wide circular motions. It was maddening. You wanted harder, faster, rougher, but he kept you in this state of weightlessness where pleasure bordered on the pain of tension.

"Fuck..." you exhaled, trying to move your hips toward his mouth to increase the pressure. "Oscar... please..."

He reacted, but in his own way. His hands gripped your thighs to the point of bruising, not letting you move on your own.

"Quiet..." his hum vibrated against your skin, sending a new electric shock through you.

Suddenly he added fingers. Two fingers abruptly entered inside, filling you, and began to move in the same rhythm as his tongue. This double attack knocked the air out of your chest. You grabbed his hair with your hands, clutching the strands, trying to hold on to reality, which was blurring before your eyes.

He played with you like a race car on a track—accelerating you to a crazy speed, forcing you to breathe raggedly and moan loudly, then abruptly dropping the revs, leaving you trembling at the very peak, but not letting you cross the finish line.

He pulled away for a second, and you felt the cold air on your wet skin. You opened your clouded eyes and saw him looking up at you from below. His lips were wet and swollen, his chin glistened with your juices, and that same devilish, drunken satisfaction burned in his eyes.

"You're so tasty when you beg," he rasped, his voice vibrating with arousal. "Want to come?"

He knew the answer. He saw your body taut as a string.

"Yes... Oscar, yes!" you almost shouted.

He smiled, and that smile promised you everything. He fell upon you again, but this time without games. His tongue moved fast, hard, knowing exactly where to strike. He began sucking on your clitoris with such intensity that you forgot how to breathe. His fingers moved inside madly fast, curling, seeking your G-spot, and when they found it, the world exploded.

A wave of pleasure crashed over you with such force that your vision went dark. Your legs trembled, and if Oscar hadn't held you with his strong hands, you would have just slid off that countertop onto the tiles. You gasped for air, trying to calm your heartbeat, which seemed to echo even in your ears.

But Oscar didn't give you time to rest.

He stood up from his knees, his face wet with your juices, and his eyes—dark and even greedier. He didn't even kiss you—just ran his hand along your wet thigh, as if checking the result of his work, and grunted with satisfaction.

"Thought that was it?" he rasped. "I haven't really celebrated yet..."

He easily lifted you off the countertop. Your legs gave way, your knees were like cotton, but he pressed you firmly against him, not letting you fall. He led you deeper into the bathroom, to the toilet, the lid of which was down.

"Stand here," he commanded softly. You leaned your back against the cool wall, watching him through a fog of pleasure. Oscar stood before you, flushed, incredibly handsome in his drunkenness and desire. His fingers, a bit clumsy from alcohol but impatient, gripped the waistband of his white shorts. He jerked them down, along with his underwear. The fabric fell to his ankles, and he carelessly kicked them aside, standing before you absolutely naked.

You involuntarily lingered your gaze on him. His cock stood straight up, hard, engorged with blood, pulsing with impatience. On the pale skin of his thighs, where his shorts usually were, the contrast with his tanned legs stood out. He looked powerful, and at the thought that all of this would be inside you right now, a wave of arousing heat ran through your body again.

Oscar sat on the toilet lid, spreading his legs wide, and pulled you by the hands toward him.

"Come to me," he called, looking you straight in the eyes. "Sit on top."

You took a step toward him. His warm palms rested on your buttocks, guiding you. You threw a leg over him, straddling him. His thighs were hard under yours.

You felt his head press against your wet, swollen entrance. It was a sensation on the edge—you were so sensitive after the orgasm that any touch seemed almost excessive, but at the same time, you felt an emptiness that only he could fill.

Oscar put his hands on your waist, helping you find your balance.

"Slowly..." he warned, though his own breathing was ragged.

You began to lower yourself. Centimeter by centimeter, he entered you, stretching, filling every corner with himself. You felt his hot hardness, his girth, and it made you throw your head back and moan loudly.

"Oh God..." you groaned.

When you lowered yourself all the way, your buttocks touching his groin, Oscar pressed his face into the curve of your neck with a noisy exhale. You sat face to face, tightly intertwined, skin to skin. It was intimate, hot, and incredibly tight. You felt his heart beating against your chest—just as madly as yours.

You tried to take the initiative and start moving yourself to find a comfortable rhythm, but Oscar stopped you. His large palms squeezed your waist, fixing you in place.

"No..." he mumbled, burying his nose in your hair. "I'll do it myself."

And he began to move. These were not the fast, rhythmic thrusts you were used to. Because of the alcohol, his body worked in a different mode: his movements were slow, languid, but incredibly deep. He would toss you up with his hips, and then forcefully lower you onto himself, burying himself in you to the very hilt, hitting your cervix.

For your body, which had just experienced an explosion of pleasure, this was a real test. Your walls were still spasmodically contracting, nerve endings were exposed, and every deep movement of his felt too sharp—on the border between pain and pleasure. You bit your lips, trying not to scream, because the sensations were so intense that tears gathered in your eyes.

"Oscar... that's... too deep..." you groaned, bracing your palms on his shoulders, trying to lift yourself at least a little to reduce the depth of penetration.

But he didn't listen. Or simply couldn't stop. Alcohol played a cruel joke on him for the first time: it dulled his sensitivity. What was overstimulation for you was insufficient for him. To feel you, to get closer to release, he needed more friction, more pressure, more time.

"I don't feel... the edge..." he rasped, and in his voice, irritation mixed with lust could be heard.

He began to move more insistently, rougher. He entered you at different angles, searching for that point that would finally allow him to break. He rubbed his pubic bone against your clitoris, which was already burning, forcing you to shudder with your whole body. It was like an endless loop: he stretched you, filled you, withdrew almost completely, and burst inside again, giving you not a second of respite.

You felt sweat trickling down your back, hair sticking to your neck. The air in the bathroom became heavy and humid.

"Oscar, I can't take it anymore..." you exhaled, feeling your legs starting to go numb from the awkward position, and everything inside burning from the continuous friction. "Please, finish..."

He raised his head and looked at you. His eyes were clouded, pupils dilated. He saw your fatigue, but that seemed to turn him on even more. He was aroused by having complete power over you, that you were entirely at his disposal, even when you had no strength left.

"I'm trying, baby..." he said playfully. "But you're so tight... and wet... I want this to last forever."

He changed tactics. Instead of deep thrusts, he began to grind into you with his hips, creating frantic friction inside. He squeezed your buttocks so hard that you knew—tomorrow there would be marks from his fingers there.

"Damn..." you cursed when he hit that same, overexcited G-spot again, forcing your body to treacherously react again, preparing you for a second wave you didn't ask for, but which he was striving for. "You're mocking me..."

"A little," he smiled crookedly, and a drop of sweat rolled down his temple. "That's for running away." He confirmed your guess as to why he decided to just kill you today.

You realized that if you didn't take the situation into your own hands (or rather—into your own body), this drunken marathon would last until dawn, and you would simply pass out right on top of him. You needed to push him over the edge, break through that alcohol haze that had dulled his sensitivity.

Gathering the last crumbs of strength, you stopped resisting his chaotic rhythm and did the only thing that could work without unnecessary movement. You hugged him around the neck, pressed your cheek to his wet temple, and squeezed your internal muscles with all your might.

Oscar hissed, freezing abruptly. You felt his cock twitch inside from this unexpected tight ring.

"Oh..." he exhaled, and his fingers dug painfully into your thighs.

You didn't let go. You continued to rhythmically squeeze him, combining it with short, barely perceptible pelvic movements to meet each of his thrusts. It worked. The pressure and heat finally did their job, switching something in his brain.

His breathing turned into a hoarse moan. The chaotic movements became short, sharp, and frantic.

"Yes... yes, like that... don't let go..." he babbled into your shoulder. You felt yourself relaxing, and his cock hitting exactly where it needed to. A second orgasm covered you today, and your walls began to contract around his again.

He made a few more deep, desperate thrusts, burying himself in you with the full weight of his body, and finally broke. His body tensed like steel, his back arched, and with a loud, drawn-out moan, he poured into you. You felt the hot, pulsating waves of his orgasm, which seemed to never end.

When the last spasms subsided, Oscar went limp. He dropped his head heavily onto your chest, breathing as if he had just run a marathon. You were completely exhausted too. Legs trembling, heart pounding, eyelids heavy as lead.

"I think I died..." you protested, having no strength even to move.

Oscar made some undefined sound, similar to a chuckle, and lazily kissed your collarbone.

"I'll revive you... tomorrow," he mumbled in a hoarse, sleepy voice.

"Shower," you whispered peremptorily, realizing that if you didn't wash the sweat and everything else off yourselves right now, you would simply fall asleep right here, on the toilet in the bathroom. "And this time—only to wash."

He laughed quietly, the vibration from his chest transferring to you.

"Yes, ma'am."

He helped you stand up. Your legs barely obeyed you, trembling after such tension, and Oscar, noticing this, just scooped you up under the arm, pressing you tightly to his side. Together you walked into the shower cabin.

Oscar turned on the water, and in a moment, pleasant warm steam enveloped you. When the streams of water hit your skin, you barely held back a moan of relief. The water washed away the stickiness, fatigue, and the remnants of the alcoholic haze.

This time he was surprisingly tender. Oscar took the shower gel and lathered it in his palms. He slowly ran his soapy hands over your shoulders, back, moving down to your lower back. His touches no longer demanded or teased—they soothed. He washed the traces of his fingers from your thighs, kissing the wet drops on your neck.

You, in turn, just leaned your forehead against his chest, allowing the water to run down both of you, and lazily moved your palm over his torso, washing away the sweat.

"You can barely stand on your feet," he mumbled into the top of your head, rinsing the foam from your hair.

"Whose fault is that?" you tore yourself away from his chest and looked up at him. He smiled, and now this man looked like "your Oscar" and not that wild lover who barely left you alive. The combination of three consecutive wins and a large amount of alcohol had revealed a new version of your boyfriend to you. And you would definitely never forget it.

Having dried off with one towel for two—quickly and carelessly, because the cold of the bathroom had already started to bite at your heated skin—you finally left the bathroom.

Reaching the bed seemed like the last task for today. As soon as you were near it, Oscar simply collapsed onto the mattress, pulling you with him. The cool bed linen seemed like the most pleasant thing in the world.

He immediately scooped you under him, settling into the "little spoon" position. His hand possessively lay on your waist, pressing your back to his chest, and his legs intertwined with yours. You felt his warmth, his even breathing by your ear, and that familiar scent, which was now clean and fresh.

On the screen, Oscar screams—a raw, uncharacteristically loud release of tension that sends shivers down your spine.

You don't wait for the team to organize. You’re running toward Parc Fermé before the car even comes to a full halt.

The atmosphere is electric. Fireworks are exploding over the Yas Marina Circuit, painting the night sky in gold and red, but your eyes are locked on the papaya car. Oscar climbs out, standing on the halo, punching the air. He looks like a titan. He looks unstoppable.

But then he hops down, and the first thing he does—before acknowledging the mechanics, before weighing in, before removing his helmet—is scan the crowd. His head whips left and right, frantic.

He’s looking for you.

You push past a camera operator, slipping through the gap in the barriers. "Oscar!"

He freezes. Even with the helmet on, you can feel his gaze lock onto you. He rips the helmet off, his hair a mess of sweat, his face flushed with the purest joy you have ever seen.

You run. He doesn’t wait. He steps forward, meeting you halfway, and the collision is desperate.

He doesn't just hug you; he scoops you up. One arm around your waist, the other supporting your legs, he lifts you completely off the asphalt.

"We did it!" he yells, his voice hoarse, burying his face in your neck. He spins you around—once, twice—right there on the track. Your feet dangle in the air, and for a moment, the world is just a blur of floodlights and papaya.

"You did it," you sob, clinging to his race suit, not caring about the sweat or the smell of burnt rubber. "You're the champion, Os."

He sets you down but keeps his forehead pressed against yours, oblivious to the cameras circling you like sharks.

"We did it, love," he corrects you, his breathing heavy, his hands trembling slightly against your back. "We."

The next few hours are a blur of champagne, interviews, and flashing lights. But there is a pattern to the chaos.

Oscar is pulled away to weigh in. Five minutes later, he’s back at your side, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Oscar is dragged off to the podium. As soon as the anthem ends and the champagne is sprayed, he’s looking down at the crowd, pointing right at you.

Oscar is ushered into the team photo. He refuses to take it until you are standing right next to him, his arm draped possessively over your shoulder.

Throughout the garage celebrations, the team starts making bets on how long he can stay away from you. The answer is never more than five minutes. He slips away from billionaire sponsors and team principals just to find you in the corner, holding your face in his hands, kissing you like he needs to recharge his battery.

"I have to go do the media pen," he whispers against your lips, smelling of sticky rosewater and victory. "Wait for me?"

"Always," you smile, wiping a smudge of champagne off his cheek.

You stand off to the side, watching the press conference on a monitor. Oscar is sitting in the center seat, the World Drivers' Championship trophy gleaming in front of him. He looks exhausted but radiant.

"Oscar," a journalist from Sky Sports asks, "you stayed incredibly calm all season, but tonight we saw a lot of emotion. What kept you grounded during those final, stressful laps?"

Oscar doesn't hesitate. A soft, genuine smile breaks across his face—the kind usually reserved only for you.

"My girlfriend, Y/N," he says into the microphone. A collective aww ripples through the room. "She’s been my rock. Honestly, she’s my lucky charm. I don't think I could have kept my head straight without her in the garage."

You press a hand to your heart, feeling fresh tears prick your eyes as the press swoons over the answer.

It’s 3:00 AM when you finally get back to the hotel room. The adrenaline is fading, leaving behind a heavy, happy exhaustion. Oscar places the heavy trophy on the dresser and immediately turns to you.

He looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees weak.

"I meant it, you know," he says softly, walking over to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into the quiet of the room. "I wouldn't be standing here, holding that trophy, without you."

You reach up, running your fingers through his hair. "You did the driving, Mr. World Champion."

"And you gave me a reason to drive fast so I could get back to you," he mumbles, leaning down to kiss you deeply. "Best night of my life."

You smile into the kiss, having no idea that in a few weeks, your lives are going to get even crazier.

The high of the championship hasn’t worn off, but the adrenaline has. Now, it’s just the lazy, golden haze of the off-season. You are currently in Australia, staying at his family’s place, supposedly to "relax."

But this morning, relaxation is the last thing on your mind.

You wake up feeling... off. Not sick, exactly, just strange. A weird flutter in your stomach, a sensitivity to the smell of Oscar’s coffee brewing downstairs that makes you dizzy. You slip out of bed while Oscar is still downstairs and take the test you bought yesterday "just in case."

You leave it on the bathroom sink, too nervous to look, and go back to bed, pulling the duvet over your head.

Five minutes later, Oscar walks into the bedroom. He’s holding two mugs of coffee, wearing nothing but sweatpants, looking every bit the relaxed champion. He heads into the en-suite to brush his teeth.

You hear the water run. Then the water stops abruptly.

Silence.

A very long, very heavy silence.

Then, a clatter, like he dropped his toothbrush.

"BABE."

It’s not his usual calm, race-engineer voice. It’s high-pitched.

He bursts out of the bathroom, holding the little plastic stick like it’s a live grenade. His eyes are wide, his face pale but flushing pink at the cheeks.

"THERE’S TWO LINES."

You sit up, heart hammering against your ribs. "Is it... is it faint? Or dark?"

"It’s... it’s very red, Y/N! It’s two lines!" He stammers, rushing over to the side of the bed. He looks at the test, then at you, then back at the test. "That means... that means we..."

"We're having a baby," you whisper.

Oscar freezes. The panic in his eyes melts instantly, replaced by a glassy, overwhelming emotion. He drops the test on the nightstand and practically collapses onto the bed next to you.

"A baby," he repeats, his voice cracking.

He pulls you into a hug so tight it knocks the breath out of you. You can feel him shaking. When he pulls back, there are tears in his eyes—the second time you’ve seen him cry in two weeks.

"We made a tiny human," he laughs, a wet, joyful sound. "I’m going to be a dad."

"A World Champion dad," you smile, wiping a tear from his cheek.

"I don't care about the trophy anymore," he says immediately, looking at you with intense seriousness. "This beats the trophy."

For the rest of the morning, Oscar is glued to you.

Weirdly, he’s already acting like you’re six months along. He keeps his hand flat against your stomach, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the fabric of your shirt, even though your belly is completely flat.

"Oscar, it’s the size of a poppy seed," you laugh, trying to get up to make breakfast.

"Careful," he says, gently pushing you back down. "I’ll make the toast. You and the... poppy seed... need to rest."

Later that night, you find him on the couch with his phone, brows furrowed in deep concentration—the same face he makes when analyzing telemetry data.

"What are you looking up?" you ask, peering over his shoulder.

He jumps slightly, angling the screen toward you. The Google search bar reads: when can baby hear my voice??

"It says 18 weeks," he says, sounding disappointed. "That’s so far away."

He looks at your stomach again, then leans down, putting his mouth right against your belly button.

"Hello?" he whispers. "This is your dad. I drive fast cars. Please be nice to your mum."

You giggle, running a hand through his hair. "You’re ridiculous."

"I’m prepared," he corrects, looking up at you with a grin that could light up the entire Melbourne grid. "I think we’re going to be good at this."

Little does he know, he's going to need a lot more than preparation. He’s asking the baby to be nice, not realizing there are three of them in there.

The room is dim, lit only by the glow of the ultrasound monitor. The gel on your stomach is freezing, but your hand is sweating because Oscar is holding it so tight he might actually break your fingers.

He’s staring at the screen with the same intensity he uses for Turn 1 at Monaco.

The doctor moves the wand around, humming softly. Then, she stops. She frowns, leans closer to the screen, and adjusts the contrast. She moves the wand again, pressing a little harder.

The silence in the room stretches for ten seconds.

Oscar’s grip tightens painfully. "Is... is everything okay?" rarely does his voice sound this small. "Is there a heartbeat?"

The doctor turns to you both, her expression unreadable for a split second before softening into a professional smile.

"Oh, yes. There are heartbeats." She pauses. "Actually, that was why I was checking again. I wanted to be sure."

She points to the grainy blobs on the screen.

"Well... both are healthy."

Oscar blinks, his brain buffering. "Both?"

"And the third one too," she continues cheerfully, moving the cursor to a smaller shadow behind the first two. "Congratulations... they’re triplets."

SILENCE.

Absolute, vacuum-sealed silence.

You stare at the screen, your mouth falling open, trying to comprehend the math. Three. Three humans.

Oscar, however, has simply ceased to function. He literally stops breathing. His chest doesn’t move for a full five seconds. He is staring at the doctor as if she just told him he has to drive a tricycle in the next Grand Prix.

"Three?" you manage to squeak out.

Oscar’s eyes are wide, unblinking. He looks from the screen to your stomach, then back to the screen. His face has gone a shade of pale that usually indicates food poisoning.

He leans back in his chair, exhaling a breath he’d been holding since the doctor frowned. He runs a hand down his face, dragging the skin.

"We celebrated too hard..."

He whispers it. It’s a low, horrified realization spoken into the quiet room.

"Oscar!" you burst out laughing, the shock breaking into hysteria.

The doctor starts chuckling, wiping the gel off your belly. "It happens more often than you think with natural conception, but yes, it’s quite a surprise."

Oscar isn't laughing yet. He’s looking at his hands. "Three seats," he mutters to himself. "We need a car with three back seats. Do they make baby racing suits in bulk?"

Then, he looks at you, seeing you laughing with tears in your eyes. The terror finally cracks, and a bewildered grin spreads across his face. He starts to laugh too—a nervous, slightly manic chuckle that grows into a full laugh.

"Triplets," he shakes his head, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, though he looks like he might faint. "I’m going to need a bigger trophy cabinet. And a lot more coffee."

The Formula 1 season is well underway, but something—or rather, someone—is missing.

You haven’t been seen at a Grand Prix in four months. You haven't been in the background of McLaren’s "Unboxed" videos. You haven't even been spotted at the airport.

Naturally, F1 Twitter has lost its collective mind.

The internet has turned into a digital crime board connected by red string.

@.piastrifan3 Guys, Oscar looked at his phone during the post-race cool down room and didn’t smile ONCE. They definitely broke up. Love is dead. I’m burning my merch.

@.user45 Hear me out: She was seen wearing red 6 months ago. She’s currently in Maranello training to be a strategist for Ferrari. She’s a double agent. Wake up sheeple.

@.user12 McLaren is hiding something. Is she the new stig? Is she driving the spare car? WHERE IS SHE ZAK BROWN?

@.f1fan5 Y'all are blind. She’s pregnant. Look at Oscar’s interviews. He has that 'I’m terrified and tired' dad energy already. 100% confirmed.

While the internet debates if you are a spy for Ferrari, the reality is much less glamorous and much stickier.

It is 3:00 AM in your Monaco apartment.

You are sitting up in bed, surrounded by a fortress of pillows, balancing a tub of Ben & Jerry’s on your massive bump. The triplets are currently having a kick-boxing tournament against your ribs.

Oscar is sitting next to you, the blue light of his iPad illuminating his focused, frowning face. He is wearing his reading glasses, looking extremely serious.

"Babe," he says, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" you mumble around a mouthful of cookie dough.

"Do we really need three cribs?"

You stop chewing. "Oscar. There are three babies."

"I know, but..." He turns the iPad toward you. "Look at the logistics. Three cribs take up 4.5 square meters. If we stack them... no, we can't stack them. But what if we get one mega crib?"

He taps the search bar. You can see his search history.

Oscar’s Google History:

triple stroller aerodynamics

how to hold 3 babies with 2 arms

noise cancelling headphones for infants

can triplets share one crib?? pls help

"They can't share one crib, Os," you sigh, patting his arm. "They will kick each other in the face. Like they are doing to me right now."

He sighs, defeated, and rubs his face. "Right. Strategy error. I'll go back to the drawing board."

He closes the tab on the "Mega Crib" and looks at your ice cream.

"Can I have a bite?"

"Get your own," you growl playfully, pulling the tub closer. "I'm eating for four. You're just stressed."

"I am stressed," he mumbles, resting his head on your shoulder. "The internet thinks we broke up. I saw a TikTok analyzing my eyebrows to prove I'm heartbroken."

"Let them talk," you grin, resting your spoon on the lid. "Just wait until they see the surprise."

It is a quiet Tuesday morning. There is no race this week. The F1 world is bored, still debating why you haven't been seen since testing.

Then, at exactly 10:00 AM, a notification pops up on millions of phones.

@.oscarpiastri just shared a post.

There is no warning. No "expecting" announcement. No gender reveal cake. Just the drop.

Monaco. A black and white, slightly grainy photo taken in your living room. It’s unpolished and raw.

You are sitting on the couch, hair in a messy bun, looking exhausted but blissfully happy, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a white blanket against your chest. Oscar is sitting on the floor next to your legs. He looks like he has been hit by a truck (in a good way). He has bags under his eyes, stubble on his chin, and—crucially—he is awkwardly holding two more bundles, one in the crook of each arm.

The expression on both your faces says: "We love them more than life itself, but we have slept 40 minutes in the last three days."

Caption: "Welcome to the world, our little podium. 🧡👶👶👶 P1, P2, and P3 arrived safely. (Send coffee.)"

The post stays up for 30 seconds before the comment section crashes. When it finally loads, it is pure chaos.

@.mclaren Getting three tiny fireproof suits ready immediately. We're going to need a bigger garage. 🧡🧡🧡

@.lando Bro… chill.

@.carlossainz55 🌶️🌶️🌶️ Ayo? Congratulations mate!

@.f1fan45 TRIPLETS??? WTF. I thought she was just hiding a bad haircut??

@.piastriszn "Bro didn't just celebrate. He CELEBRATED." The math is mathing. 9 months after Abu Dhabi exactly... Oscar you absolute legend.

@.danielricciardo Three?? Mate, you don’t do things by halves do you? Congrats!

@.lewishamilton Amazing news. Congratulations to you both.

@.gridgossip Oscar Piastri single-handedly repopulating the grid. By 2045 the entire podium will just be Piastris.

@.user99 Everyone was worried they broke up and meanwhile Oscar was fighting for his life changing three diapers at once 😭😭😭

Oscar tosses his phone onto the couch, ignoring the buzzing that sounds like a swarm of angry bees.

"Well," he yawns, leaning his head back against your knee. "Cat's out of the bag."

"The internet is going to clown you for the rest of your life," you whisper, careful not to wake the baby in your arms (Baby P1).

"Let them clown," Oscar smirks, looking down at the two sleeping babies in his arms. "I won the championship, and I got three trophies nine months later. I'd say that's a pretty good season."

"Go to sleep, Oscar."

"Can't," he whispers back. "P2 just grabbed my finger. I’m trapped forever."

For the first time in seventy-two hours, the apartment is silent. No crying, no bottle warmers beeping, no lullaby machines playing white noise at full volume. Just the soft, rhythmic sound of breathing.

You tiptoe out of the kitchen, clutching a lukewarm mug of tea, and stop in the doorway of the living room. The sight before you makes your heart squeeze so hard it actually aches.

Oscar is sprawled out on the big gray sectional. One arm is thrown over his eyes to block out the afternoon sun, his mouth slightly open in deep, exhaustion-fueled sleep.

Curled up right in the center of his chest, rising and falling with his steady breathing, is the third triplet. Oscar’s other hand is resting protectively over the baby’s tiny back, a reflex he doesn't even drop when he's unconscious.

You shift your gaze to the large playpen-bassinet combo set up near the window.

The other two are fast asleep, their heads turned toward each other. And there, in the space between them, their tiny fingers are interlaced. Holding hands.

You lean your head against the doorframe, letting out a long, shaky breath.

Your hair is a mess. You have a stain on your shoulder that is definitely spit-up. You haven't watched a race or checked the news in weeks. Your life is a blur of diapers, formula, and deciphering which cry means "hungry" and which cry means "I just want to scream."

But looking at them—your "Team Five"—you wouldn't trade a single second of the madness.

Oscar stirs. He doesn't open his eyes, but he shifts slightly, sensing your presence in the room. He pats the baby on his chest gently.

"Is everyone alive?" he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

"Everyone is sleeping," you whisper back, smiling. "Go back to sleep, champ."

He hums, a satisfied sound, and settles deeper into the cushions. "Best off-season ever," he slurs, before drifting back off.

You take a sip of your tea, watching the sunlight dance over the three tiny faces that look so much like him.

He was right. He won the trophy in Abu Dhabi, the gold, the glory, the history books. But this? This messy, exhausting, loud, overwhelming life in your living room?

This is the best podium of your life.

© 2025 lap90. All rights reserved. Unauthorized duplication, distribution, or modification of this content is strictly prohibited.

💌 tag list: @mysthicwhispers @anamiad00msday @st4r-girl-official @kartuke @gridsandstories @ohwhoisyou-rubyjane @pedriglazer @viper-0800 @clocouettelife @leviathan0000 @roseannih @rosietoesf1 @thisdoesntexsist-cherry @elizamoe133 @nichmeddar @galaxygurlll @ojijhij @naenaen @josephinel83 @linnygirl09 @axelstillalive @star73807-blog @meyla123x @vinylphwoar @artyyjia @meritxellao @anaylen01 @martygraciesversion381 @supernatural-harrypotter7 @chair-things @moonlitelaine @hades-favourite-daughter @justaf1girl @liv1209 @celiaisacaterpillar @yellow14m @maebejustmaebe @sainz0fthetimes @waitingatthegreenlight @ilocuras24 @beathreat

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user surprise release omg ????

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yourusername why not🤭

user bc i need to time to schedule my freak outs!! but this is sooooo good

user the lyrics are so sweet😭😭

user yess it's the kind of song i want at my wedding🥺🥺

user baby's first love song !!

user finally! i love her heartbreak sad songs but she deserves happiness

user SOTY

── ⋆⋅🐝⋅⋆ ──

yourusername pick me up, walk me home

view all comments

user ohhh she is in love in love🥺🫶 ♥︎liked by author

user using your own song lyrics to soft launch your relationship? iconic behavior i'm afraid

user you are so unbelievably gorgeous i don't know who he is but can he fight???

user not him tying her shoes🥺🥺

user @ god when will it be my turn?

── ⋆⋅🐝⋅⋆ ──

yourusername and it feels like god threw me a bone

view all comments

user she changed the prophecy😭🫶

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user i love this but when are we getting the album??

yourusername very very soon i promise!

user the way she looks at him in that first pic my heart🥺🥺

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── ⋆⋅🐝⋅⋆ ──

yourusername i love you baby i promise

view all comments

user prettiest girl ever

user ok enough teasing tell us who he is

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yourusername 🤭🤭

user don't be shy babe post a close up

user love might be real yall...

── ⋆⋅🐝⋅⋆ ──

yourusername everything I own just feels like ours

view all comments

user they are living together!?? oh it's serious

user she has never posted a boyfriend before so i kinda figured out they were for real when she started soft launching

user same, they have probably been dating for a while if she's doing all of this

user just give us a clue!!

yourusername what do you want to know?

user something, anything!

user how did you two meet???

yourusername he went to my concert with his mate and slid into my dms🥰

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yourusername depends...

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user depends...on what?

yourusername if u watch sports🙃

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yourusername 🤐 enough q&a for today

── ⋆⋅🐝⋅⋆ ──

yourusername in the dark, i'm not scared. i just reach and you're right there

view all comments

user secret boyfriend's identity aside, this whole soft launching has been adorable🥺 you can tell she is really happy with the relationship

user is that-

user do you know?????

user i have my suspicions but i'm gonna keep quiet for now 🤫

user i'm being punished for not watching sports😩😩

user lmao same i even showed the pics to my girlfriend who is obsessed with tennis but she doesn't know either

user just tell us who!!

yourusername not yet, i'm having so much fun with this😂😂

user can't believe i stan someone this mean💔

yourusername 😜

── ⋆⋅🐝⋅⋆ ──

yourusername shooting stars, racing cars

view all comments

user not them actually watching shooting stars🥺

user does this mean he is in f1 or just that they went to a f1 race together??? i don't know anything about the sport

user he does look a bit like one of the drivers-

user had to ask my bf what car that was and he said mclaren!! is that enough to reveal him??

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user brb going through her profile and making a detailed powerpoint with pictures and timelines

lando wait i know that car🤨

yourusername do you now?🤔

user it is oscar a 100%

── ⋆⋅🐝⋅⋆ ──

yourusername sticky sweet, tangerine

view all comments

user enough with the soft launch girl we know who he is already!!!

user OP!!!! we have confirmation😭😭

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user for reaaaal a bisexual's dream

mclaren 🧡

── ⋆⋅🐝⋅⋆ ──

yourusername god i love the way you look at me

view all comments

user piastri heart eyes strikes again<3

user the face she wrote "a face i swear that i could spend my whole life knowing" about, mind u🥰

lando can't believe osc is dating someone this cool

yourusername not you acting like you didn't know🙄 we had dinner together last week

lando i was following your lead!! it was fun🤭

formula1 can't wait to see you in the paddock

yourusername soon😊😊

── ⋆⋅🐝⋅⋆ ──

oscarpiastri here's to hoping🤞

view all comments

user i've known about them one day and i'm already obsessed

user oscar lover boy era >>

user i love them your honor

lando couples who bike together stay together

piastrisradio

Liked by mclaren, lando, yourusername, and 3,823,473 others

piastrisradio Yeah, Oscar Piastri just won his home race, but is there anything more wholesome than him looking for Y/N immediately?!🥹🧡

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username No because he just wanted to share the moment with her, no one else 😭😭

username He sounded so desperate to get to her I’m crying

username Yeah let’s celebrate with the gf instead of the team who helped make it happen🙄

username Clearly you don’t know how much Y/N supported him in his career 🙄

yourusername So, so proud 🧡 ❤️ by author

lando Wholesome? They’re so cheesy it sickens me

oscarpiastri I smell jealousy

yourusername And it stinks pretty bad

piastrisradio

Liked by maxverstappen1, and 3,754,947 others

piastrisradio Close call between Oscar and teammate Lando Norris today, fighting for P1 at the Miami GP.

@/lando, be careful, Oscar’s calling backup.

view all comments

username I bet 50€ Oscar never shuts up about Y/N

username frrr the way Tom went “Trust me, we know”

lando He doesn’t.

maxverstappen1 Never a conversation where he doesn’t connect the topic to Y/N.

oscarpiastri Bunch of backstabbers 🙄

username ok but can you imagine being Oscar’s gf and him bragging about you like that 😩

username *goes to tumblr, opens Oscar Piastri imagine*

username LMAOOO SO REAL

username bruh what happened to this sport being about actual racing

piastrisradio

Liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, and 4,837,182 others

piastrisradio Oscar during… a sound check today?

view all comments

username imagine working your ass off for years to get that engineering degree and this what you end up dealing with

stallard.tom 😕

blondie.wdj 😕

gplambiase 😕

username not all the race engineers gathering here 😭😭

lando Imagine how tired we are…

yourusername Oh you love us

lando barely

piastrisradio

Liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 2,828,012 others

piastrisradio Oscar after his DNF during Q2 in Spain, today.

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mclaren Well, at least we know he’s got his priorities straight.

username Not McLaren admin sounding like a disappointed parent hahah

yourusername I did in fact never let him live this down 🥰

oscarpiastri At this point it’s straight up bullying, baby.

yourusername And I’ll do it again ❤️

piastrisradio

Liked by danielricciardo, georgerussel63, maxverstappen1, lando and 6,827,001 others

piastrisradio Oscar during the race today. Honestly, we don’t even know what to say anymore.

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username Oscar Piastri being horny on the radio for millions to hear was not what I expected

username lmao imagine just wanting to watch super fast cars going vroom and this is what you hear

username this is the first F1 race i’ve ever watched, safe to say i’m addicted

username how Tom manages to stay serious is beyond me 😭 how can you not burst out laughing

username watch Oscar start kissing her with his eyes open 😭😭

yourusername Please, don’t give him any ideas…

username OMG HI QUEEEN

piastrisradio

Liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 1,556,986 others

piastrisradio Believe us, we’re just as confused as you are. 🧡

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username Oscar just said in an interview the bet was about who gets to be the dom tonight

username WAIT SERIOUSLY

username no i just made that up, y’all believe everything smh

maxverstappen1 I don’t know if I should be offended or not…

yourusername No actually I owe you now

maxverstappen1 I’d rather not get involved, I think

oscarpiastri you’re gonna regret this

username It’s giving “move of a world champion that one” 😭😭😭

—

Other drivers: Radio Check | Masterlist

user43 REDBULL ON TOPPP IKTR

user5 that was INCREDIBLE

user81 should’ve been oscar

user3 but it was yn 😂😂😂

lewishamilton incredible!

yourusername thank you! ❤️

redbullracing THATS WHAT WERE TALKING ABOUT!!!💙

maxverstappen Good drive

yourusername thank you maximum 

maxverstappen i thought we agreed that nickname sucks

yourusername damn that’s crazy ive got memory loss

username3 not the oscar reference in the caption 😒😒

user81 she’s obsessed with him like i swear she doesn’t even hate him atp

ynhq A YN LN MASTERCLASS!!

oscarpiastri don’t get too comfortable 

yourusername has deleted this comment

user843 did no one else see oscar’s comment??

user23 bro he’s so petty

olliebearman so so true

user843 OLLIE????🤨

user33 this is gonna be a long season

charlesleclerc Congratulations Yn!

liked by mclaren, alexalbon, olliebearman and 874k others

oscarpiastri decent last three races 

user03 ONLY DECENT???

username22 way better than yn ln 

user9 what does she have to do with this?

username22 i’m just sayingg 

alexalbon must’ve been the wind

user343 ALEX

yourusername that griddy sucked ASS

oscarpiastri has deleted this comment

user355 yn’s comment LMFAO

user23 what was it? did it get deleted?

mclaren THATS OUR WDC LEADER 🧡

charlesleclerc Amazing drive mate!

user87 charles who’s side are you on

user28 he’s friends with them both calm down

liked by olliebearman, gabibortoleto, user3, and 117k others

f1updates Yn Ln interview after Silverstone!

INT: So, fresh off a win at Silverstone, you must be a happy camper!

YN: Yeah, yeah! I was pretty surprised given the amount of rain that I didn’t slide out like the Haas’! [she laughs]

INT: Very true! So, I’m sure you’ve seen the discourse but I wanted to get your take on the situation between you and Piastri during this race! What did you think of his restart after the safety car?

YN: I mean, you heard my radio, I'm sure! [she laughs] No, but really, I thought it was a bit unsafe to break like that although, I usually respect him as a driver. [she shoos someone away and laughs again]

INT: Some may say you two hate each other, any comment on that?

YN: I think hate is a strong word, we all want to win here, the paddock can give you some strong friendships but at the same time we are at work so I try to keep things separate. [loud thud]

INT: Sounds like something’s happening there in the background haha!

YN: Yeah, uh, I’m in the process of moving and having a friend help and they just dropped a box haha!

INT: So, will you be spending the break between races on a mini trip?

YN: Well, I’m spending it with a good friend but I’ll mostly be packing. I'm waiting for the real summer break to start after Spa before I kick up my feet! 

INT: Great, enjoy and thank you so much YN for joining us today!

user21 oscar’s restart under the safety car was not it

user7 i don’t think he deserved that penalty tho

user21 yes he did! even yn said it!

user7 she literally didn’t

user77 “I try to keep things separate” GIRL WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

isackhadjar in my experience it means she’s only nice to me at work

user77 ISACK HELLO????

user22 she’s so pretty

user373 she respects him as a driver my ship is SAILING

user277 crying at the comments thinking basic respect to another driver means they’re in love

user33 100% class our first lady

user41 who’s that voice in the background

user481 don’t stone me but it sounds like oscar’s

user41 noooo his voice isn’t that deep

user481 it has to be himmm

user90 and why would yn be blushing with oscar in the room? she can’t stand that man!

user20 guys why is gabi, isack, AND ollie in the likes of a fan account 😭😭🤨

user56 she still won so what’s the issue

liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, oscarpiastri, and 927k others

yourusername recharging

user3 she’s so unbothered i love it

user22 our girl is a silverstone winner and that’s all that matters

charlesleclerc very proud of your season so far!

yourusername 🥹❤️❤️

user55 maam who’s hand is that 🤨

user2 which slide do you mean

user55 slide 5 is some guys hand holding flowers

user2 i didnt scroll that far oops

user33 guys in SLIDE TWO there’s also a man's hands on the other end of the table

alexandrasaintmleux gorgeous girl 💙

yourusername my queeeen

redbullracing resting and relaxing that’s well earned!

user34 cannot believe she’s hiding all this beauty under that stupid suit

user20 she totally has a bf, probably why she’s so unbothered about piastri’s paddock drama

user43 he’s even liking her posts without following her ugh

user56 wins silverstone ✅goes on vacation immediately after ✅

user255 omg where’s she moving to

user24 probably monaco like every driver 😭

user260 the olivia dean vinyl oh my girls in loveeee

f1updates The racing incident between Yn Ln and Oscar Piastri was further investigated after the race and when Max Verstappen was asked about it after the race, this is what he had to say in defense of his teammate!

INT: Today we saw your teammate, Yn Ln, supposedly push one of the Mclaren’s off the track and receive a 5 second penalty. Since you were driving behind them both at the time, what do you think about what went down? 

MV: Well, you know, when we go racing we get in the car and have many decisions to make at a split second. I think [Yn] makes a lot of good decisions as a driver, she doesn’t make mistakes very often. 

INT: Do you think she deserved a 5 second penalty over it?

MV: Honestly, i’m surprised she didn’t get a longer one like in Suzuka! [he laughs]

INT: What do you think about the race today? 

MV: I didn’t make many mistakes and the strategy was good and so I’m happy with the results. 

INT: Was it surprising to see Piastri on the podium?

MV: Well, with damage like that to your front wing for almost half a race, it’s surprising to see anyone up there. 

INT: We heard your radio later on in the race when you and Piastri had a bit of contact, care to give a bit of insight as to what happened there?

MV: I was going into the corner and I guess he really wanted to hug my tyres while turning too but there was no way for me to leave enough space for him in that last second. If I were him, I would’ve gone on the outside a bit more. 

INT: Do you think the rivalry between Yn and Piastri has gone too far in this race or is it just a bit of friendly fire we’re seeing play out on track?

MV: Yn is always very capable and shows her strengths, and Piastri is very talented as well. I think people like to make up stories about drivers being this way or that but in reality we’re all just trying to win and be the best at all that we know. 

INT: Thank you Max for today!

user40 the glare max gave oscar on the podium was kinda hot

user37 bro and her smirk right at him in the cooldown down room when they showed the replay was so fucking funny

user27 just a racing incident tbh

user200 oh they really cannot stand eachother

user10 i wouldn’t be able to stand him either

user814 she’s so obnoxious

user63 bruh your driver is obsessed with her

user814 oh you’re delusional as hell

user29 max always defending yn and shutting down bs drama moves me so badly

user20 PENALTY DESERVED ARE WE KIDDING

user61 not oscar making an enemy out of both redbull drivers 😭😭

user34 oscar’s radio “mate that’s not fair” 😔😔

user28 maybe if yn’s way of defending positions wasn’t pushing everyone off the road, this wouldn’t have happened

user91 bro does not wanna be asked about the shipper fanwar 💀 

user200 i love that both her and max have such an idgaf attitude until it comes to each other, they’re the best teammates

yourusername posted to their story

liked by user90, olliebearman, f1lovingfan, and 275k others

f1updates Oscar Piastri and mystery woman seen driving/walking around Monaco in his Mclaren!

user33 THATS LITERALLY YN WDYM MYSTERY WOMAN

user3 nicogabi is more believable than those two being in a car together

gabibortoleto 🤨

user90 ain’t NO WAY i thought he was single

user22 for my mental health this is ai

user66 NOOO

user511 that’s definitely yn

user25 guys…he’s wearing the same quarter zip from yn’s post

user46 lots of guys are wearing those now isn’t a tiktok trend?

user25 guys in monaco specifically? in a mclaren?

user405 why do yall ship people who don’t like each other publicly

user243 did you not see the silverstone interview?

user34 the all black car is so sexy

user244 those are lowkey similar to the flowers yn posted on her story this morning

user276 who ever it is im happy for them 🥹🥹

yourusername has posted a story

liked by charlesleclerc, yourusername, mclaren, 878k others

oscarpiastri 🔋➡️☀️🏎️

user30 why do you speak in emojis

user81 and why did he steal yn’s caption lmaoo

gabibortoleto who took that picture on slide 2

oscarpiastri a talented photographer

user32 so secretive and for what

user366 yn in the likes…she’s so obsessed with him it’s insane

user27 i mean he’s been in her likes too

user366 they don’t even follow each other 🤨

user57 am i crazy or is that yn’s cat in slide 1

user82 its the exact same cat I SWEAR

olliebearman you guys are not slick

user20 ollie explain

user11 ollie what does this MEAN

user91 one of these days he’s gonna block all the rookies 😫

user72 i smell a win coming

user91 ynscar has never been more real than rn

maxverstappen when did you guys get a cat, what’s her name

oscarpiastri she doesn’t even have a name at the moment

user81 ‘you guys’???? MAX WHAT DO YOU KNOWWWW

user71 this is huge news for max ‘loves cats more than his redbull’ verstappen

user77 wdym you haven’t named ur pet yet my guy

isackhadjar i know it

user77 can you be bribed into telling us?

user27 girl 😭😭

f1updates from today’s press conference!

INT: Welcome everyone! Hope you all are well and have enjoyed your summer breaks!

[varied hellos from drivers]

INT: So, first race back after three weeks, we’re all here at the Zandvoort track! Max, this is your home race, how are you feeling?

MV: l feel good. This is a great track, you know, very beloved. I think it’s going to be a good weekend.

INT: Wonderful! Let’s hear from Ollie! So this is a track I hear you’re excited for?

OB: Yes, very much! I kind of wish it was my debut track last year, it’s always been exciting!

INT: Yn, Charles, hello to you as well, how are you as well? Restful break over in Monaco? Yn just moved there this summer, yes?

[YN and Charles side eye each other and laugh, gesturing for the other to answer first]

YNLN: Guess I’ll go first, thank you Charles. [she laughs] Yes, thank you, uh, I’m well, and I did! I had lots of help including from Charles and Alexandra. 

CL: Ah yes, true! You wouldn’t know it but this girl owns so much stuff, we didn’t think it’d all fit in the apartment. Good thing he practically never decorates. Hopefully he’s gotten used to all the Redbull merch! [Charles nudges Yn]

INT: You moved in with a someone, Yn?

[Ollie snickers]

YNLN: Yes, yes! [whispers] Ollie shut up I swear to God. 

YNLN: I moved in with my boyfriend, figured it was time to! I was all moved in by the time summer break rolled around so we got to spend it relaxing, traveling a bit, and seeing some family. It was a good time!

INT: Good to hear! A well rested driver is a winning driver!

OB: Yn was well rested for sure, she ignored half my calls and answered only past noon. 

[Yn shoves Ollie’s shoulder]

YNLN: I did not ignore you! I was busy!

OB: Busy playing cards and sipping martinis on a beach somewhere tropical?

[The drivers laugh]

CL: You know, yes, Yn, now it comes to mind I didn’t see you two all break! The yacht was feeling lonely without my favorite spades players. 

INT: Good fun was had! Glad to hear it! As we now enter the real back half of the season, I wanna get into where each of you are at headspace wise. Max, let’s start with you. Has it been an easy year now that you aren’t in direct contention for the Drivers Championship?

MV: I’m enjoying the year, but easy? No. It’s not an easy job no matter how races or championships are won. If I catch up, I catch up, but also even with other projects my focus is still on the car. 

INT: Great to hear the dedication as always! Onto Yn! The gap is now so close between you and Oscar, do you think you can manage to bridge that gap this weekend or will it drift?

YNLN: I feel pretty similar to Max, it certainly has not been an easy year. When I led for a couple races there, I was so sure I could keep it steady and when I lost it again to [Piastri], I thought it was gone for good. But now that we’re back from break, I do think with how much focus I also have on the car, I can bridge that gap. I won’t make any promises though!

INT: It seems you have a real chance at winning this championship, what do you make of that? Is it scary? A good feeling?

YNLN: A good one, a very very good one for sure but also scary of course. I do try not to get wrapped up in it all, I always remind myself to look at each weekend from a logical standpoint because it’s so easy to think winning my first championship is the most important thing ever but it’s not. Not that it’s not important to me but the best thing I can do is give my all during the race weekends right up til Abu Dhabi. 

INT: That’s a very important message, thank you Yn. I think we’re all familiar with you and Oscar Piastri having a bit of history and I was wondering how you all think it might play into this race? Do you think the break has simmered it down?

OB: I don’t think it has, if anything the rest of the season is even more fuel for their tempers. They’re a handful but they’re each other’s handful. [He laughs]

CL: They’re basically a married couple minus the papers at this point. Can’t even get a word in when they’re together. 

YNLN: Like you two are any better!

INT: It seems your dynamic is a fan favorite even among the drivers. What do you make of that, Yn?

YNLN: What I think is that Ollie is a punk! [she laughs shoving Ollie again]

INT: That seems to be all the time we have today, good luck to you all this weekend! Thank you for your time. 

user75 unserious ass grid

user18 “they’re a handful but they’re each other's handful” ????

user12 olliebearman WDYM BY THATTT

user34 i wish i had the level of patience the grid has for those two 😭

user192 the rookies constantly being messy…WHAT DO THEY KNOW

user72 is ollie even pr trained atp 

user71 ollie laughing at every ynscar mention like they don’t almost tear off each others heads every weekend

user83 i love yn so much #my wdc winner fr

user725 charles’s married couple comment #noticing 

user5 and yn’s glare

user901 max being the saving grace of this whole thing once again

user42 charles alluding to the fact that yn and oscar can in fact exist in the same room is the best part

user44 yn win incoming i can feel it

user88 she sucks at this track tho

user81 so no one saw yn blush when they brought up her and oscar?

user101 charles says so much with his eyes it’s crazy

redbullupdates Yn Ln’s radio! #BakuGP

YN: Ah, safety car? For what?

🎧: A Mclaren went into a wall is what we’re being told.

YN: Oh, shit which one?

🎧: Piastri. 

YN: On lap 2? Is he okay? Is he out of the car?

🎧: We’ve been made aware he’s okay and out the car and safe.

YN: Okay, do you not know the issue?

🎧: No, not yet, Yn please focus on the race.

YN: It was just a question. But okay, copy. 

user23 she looked so distraught leaving the paddock omg

user63 a fellow driver crashed on the second lap ofc she’s worried

user24 so glad he’s okay 

user8 im in mourning and i open my phone to my driver’s rival is showing real human emotion to him for once

user81 very sweet of her

user29 he looked heartbroken as hell

user301 still cannot believe this happened 

user12 YN WIN THOOOO

user21 not my goat going soft for piastri

user77 she is NOT going soft for him of all people BE FR

user11 forever a baku 25 hater

user288 BRING ME BACK TO ZANDVOORT PLSSSS

user45 im tired of seeing her win

user44 cope bro yn on toppp

f1updates Oscar’s interview today after FP1!

INT: Sorry about Baku, that must’ve been difficult to endure as a driver who has worked so hard this year! How do you think that race compares to the other races this year, especially tracks you’ve had a bit of issue with?

OP: Thank you! Uh, yeah, I’ve had a few meetings following that day’s debrief about it and it helps best to not compare it to other races performances but instead from the outside. Going over data and recognizing that some things are out of your control also help. 

INT: You’ve had a couple weeks to reset, how have you been spending them? Does it also help to have a close circle of support after races like that?

OP: Yeah, well, my family back home are always there for me despite the time difference. They’re so supportive and they got me where I am in the sport today so i’m very grateful for that. [laughs] And now I’ve got my girlfriend living with me, I’ll always be extremely for her as well. She’s the best after every weekend, we’re always hyping eachother up for whatever we encounter. 

INT: Sounds like you have a wonderful support system! That’s always a wonderful progression to see in the sport. How has your confidence progressed throughout the year from gaining your first pole position to leading the championship?

OP: I’ve gotta hand the confidence to my girlfriend, she’s a powerhouse in that department. She’s, uh, always been a big help after tough races since she’s at all of them and she understands the pressure so well. 

INT: Now, you’ve had an absolute stellar season so far but that gap between you and Yn Ln is closing in. What are your thoughts going into the home stretch of the season? Is there anything you think you can do to prevent that?

OP: The only thing I can do is focus on my work in the car and do my best. I’m definitely aware of the points but when I get in the car, I have to ignore outside noise and focus on what my engineer says. I want to win, we all say it, we all want it, that’s no surprise!

INT: Yn’s made it clear she’s in it to win it as well. She just said in the media pen that she plans on doing whatever it takes, do you think that would happen to include the racing incident back at Silverstone? What were your thoughts then versus now?

OP: I thought we could have forgotten about Silverstone by now! Although, now it may be considered better than now.  [laughs] I really respect Yn as a driver and as a person, we’ve both grown a lot since first racing against each other in F3. She always gives it her all, I believe she will for these last races and so will I.

INT: Thank you so much for your time Oscar! Good luck!

user34 he has a gf???

user91 for awhile now, has def been soft launching her this year

user27 did he just say she attends every race?? how come we’ve never seen her?

user10 maybe she walks in by herself?

user2 what kinda wag doesn’t show up WITH said bf?

user99 the kind that’s camera shy maybe

user23 them both respecting each other then battling it tf out every race is soooo

user17 oscar isn’t special, im obsessed with yn’s every move too

user19 him blushing talking about his girlfriend is so sweet

user25 realll he didn’t stop the whole interview 😭😭

user144 why do these interviews always ruin it by bringing up him and yn? 

user277 they need engagement 

user188 yn you will always be famous (being used for views in interviews she’s not even apart of)

user17 i love that his family is so supportive from far away, mine doesn’t even come to half my recitals

user23 okay so we know who monaco girl is STOP ASKING NOWWW

user36 you could not pay me to relive baku 

user81 he’s so smiley 😕😕

oscarpiastri world champ to many, absolute love of my life to me

tagged yourusername

olliebearman this is gold

yourusername BLOCKED

user22 THE FUCK???

user03 WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS !!!!

yourusername i love you more than my trophy

oscarpiastri my greatest accomplishment now

gabibortoleto mate she just got off the podium 15 minutes ago

user44 oh so he had this READY

charlesleclerc mon dieu finally!

user01 AWEEE THEY GOT ANOTEHR CAT 🥹🥹

user03 and its ORANGE

maxverstappen you two are digusting

yourusername you were literally the first person to find out

maxverstappen ok and? still. 

alexalbon i’ve known since before it even happened 

olliebearman i did too

user25 SHE WAS MONACO GIRL THIS WHOLE TIME

alexandrasaintmluex so happy you two aren’t hiding it anymore! 💗

user34 he was the ‘friend’ helping her move…

user55 i give it a month

oscarpiastri well its been two years

user27 WHAT???

user92 TWO??? YEARS??? HELLO😃

isackhadjar i cant believe you hard launched before i could bully you about it longer

yourusername oh im sure this is very unfair to you hadjar, sorry bout that 🥸

user35 my gorgeous queen…and he’s there

yourusername wow i wonder who taught you how to take such amazing pictures😫😫

oscarpiastri only the best 💗

ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ

Oscar's been in your life since Matthew Oliver Y/l/n was a year old.

Now, at four, Oscar's the only father figure Matty has ever known.

This, while beautiful and so precious, has meant that you've had to have some awkward conversations with your son. The worst of which was telling him that he was only allowed to call Oscar 'dada' when it was you two. He had cried and thrown a tantrum so loud you'd gotten a tension migraine.

He slowly learned that even though Oscar was not his 'dada' he was just as important.

Case-in-point today.

Matty had come barreling into the living room with a piece of paper and a smile in tow.

"Osc, Osc! Look!", Matty yelled, using his newly acquired proper pronounciation of the letter L.

Oscar looked over at you, almost asking for permission to get Matty into his lap. Three years in his life, but still Oscar was afraid to overstep. Afraid to take up the space that had long ago been deemed his. Like always, you roll your eyes and mouth 'Of course'.

"Whatdya got here, bud?", Oscar asks your son.

"Family picture! Look!", Matty gets the paper close enough for the smell of crayons to penetrate Oscar's nostrils.

"Let me g-", Oscar begins. He stops suddenly when he sees himself in the drawing.

The drawing is you, him, and Matty happily standing outside of your home on a sunny day.

He'd never gotten the wind knocked out of him so fast.

When he looked down to his lap, his eyes watered. Matty's looking up at him, trying to gauge if he likes the drawing or not.

With a kiss on the toddler's head, he murmurs, "I love it, buddy. You did a great job! Did you show Mum?"

You nod, eyes shining.

You know everything about Oscar's insecurities with his place in Matty's life. He's been there for your son since he took his first steps. He was there for his first word. First day of daycare. Regardless of how busy his life was, Oscar made an effort to show up.

He promised himself the first time Matty fell asleep in his arms that he would never stop showing up for your son. Even if he would never be seen as his father.

Yet, he worried. Over not being enough. Over Matty wanting and needing his real father one day. Over if you would leave him for Matty's biological dad.

You had already promised him that nothing would take you back to him, to the man who broke your heart.

But, you especially swore that Matty loved him more than he loved you.

This flimsy, sticky piece of paper was the first time it truly sunk in for Oscar.

ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ

The second time was later that week.

Oscar had gotten home late from training on Friday. He was off for the week race-wise, but that doesn't mean his training stops.

When he quietly enters your shared home, your eyes meet.

He smiles gently, but cocks his head to the side. Without words, you know what he's asking. Where's Matty?

"Down for a nap. It's late and I know I shouldn't have let him go down at this hour, but you know how bad he slept last night", you explain quietly.

He'd had his first ever nightmare last night and crept into your bedroom in the early morning.

You thought he would've reached for you, but instead he motioned for Oscar to pick him up.

Like clockwork, Oscar's eyes flashed towards yours in permission. You simply nod before laying back down, making space for Matty between the two of you.

"Everything alright, buddy?", your boyfriend asks.

"N-no! Scawy monster in closet!", he wobbles out. It'd been a while since you heard his baby voice come out, but it made your heart grow even fonder for the young boy.

"Wanna sleep with Mum and I tonight?", Oscar offers.

With a nod, Matty signals for Oscar to hold his hand and drop yours. You stifle a laugh, shocked.

"Matty...sharing is caring, honey", you giggle.

"No! Osc mine!", he grumbles out.

"Someone's cranky", you mumble over your son's head.

Oscar holds your son even closer to his chest with his large hand engulfing your son's tiny one.

Oscar begins to reach over to kiss you goodnight when Matty suddenly interjects. "No! My kith! Mommy, no!"

At this both you and Oscar erupt into laughter. "What's gotten into you, bud?", he asks, holding Matty impossibly closer while kissing the crown of his head.

"Someone must really love you, Osc", you theorize.

"I guess so", he says through a shining smile.