Masterlist

you’re the only friend i need ⟢ OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and oscar were always two peas on a pod. people would often wonder how you, a troublesome kid in brighton, had managed to befriend the calm and reserve boy, oscar piastri. it was truly a wonder.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, angst, heavy feeling fic, implied main character death (mcd), unsaid feelings, mentions of disease (leukemia), mentions of wound and bleeding, googled medical stuff, medical inaccuracies, inaccurate info, reader is a bit of a troublemaker, fast paced-ish, there are unrealistic medical stuff, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 12.3k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic is pure angst, there is no happy ending for this one. so if this is not your cup of tea, it’s better you stop reading from here on out. there will be no other part of this fic, bc i’m don’t really know how to pen the rest of the fic (sorry ><), i’m satisfied with the ending of this one. this fic is a love child of me loving childhood nostalgia and coming-of-age genre, and it was also the vibe the i get whenever i hear ‘ribs’ by lorde, bc i SWEAR that song never fails to make me feel stuff +++ the childhood drink, i only had googled it, so if i have any australian reader here, pls feel free to correct me. your comments/reblogs is always appreciated, i hope that you’ll like this one! :)

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You and Oscar Piastri had always been inseparable, practically joined at the hip since the moment your parents introduced you as toddlers. Living right next door to each other in a quiet suburban neighborhood in Brighton, meant that your lives intertwined in a way that felt natural, as if you had always been destined to be a part of one another’s stories. Your parents, close friends long before either of you were born, often joked that it was inevitable that you two would end up being close. Whether it was playdates during the day or sleepovers at night, there was rarely a time when you and Oscar weren’t together.

Sleepovers were always your favorite. Your parents would bring you to Oscar's house with a hastily packed bag, and Nicole and Chris would always welcome you as if you were one of their own. Nicole always had snacks ready—popcorn, biscuits, and sometimes her famous chocolate cake, and how Chris would sometimes tease you both about staying up too late. You and Oscar never really did listen to him, though.

Once the lights were out and the world outside went quiet, you and Oscar would sneak flashlights under the covers, building forts out of blankets and couch cushions. Inside your makeshift castles, you would whisper to each other in the dark, sharing stories that veeted from spine-tingling ghost tales to ridiculous made-up adventures that had you both doubled over with laughter. It was not uncommon for you to laugh so hard your ribs hurt, clutching your sides as Oscar tried, and failed, to stifle his giggles so you would not wake his parents up.

Oscar, even as a kid, was calm and easygoing, which is a perfect counterbalance to your boundless energy and knack for trouble. He was steady, level-headed, and rarely got into trouble, whilst you had a knack for finding mischief, dragging Oscar along for the ride more than not—daring him to climb trees or riding bikes faster than you should’ve, to name a few.

Your parents, on more occasions than they could count, ended up at their wits end because of your antics. From sneaking out past curfew to explore the neighborhood to accidentally setting off store alarms because you thought it would be funny to hide in a display, you always found a way to test the limits of patience. More often than not, you did get caught—whether it was by a passing neighbor, security, or the occasional local police officer, you somehow always managed to land yourself in trouble—but never anything too serious.

It was usually enough to warrant a lecture from your own parents and a lot of head-shaking from Oscar’s. Despite it all, Nicole and Chris never seemed to hold it against you. They’re just kids, Nicole would say, a soft smile on her face. As long as you’re not doing anything dangerous, it’s fine. Chris would usually chime in on the conversation with a mock-serious, just don’t do drugs, alright? his tone was always lighthearted, but you knew they meant it. You would just laugh it off, promising to behave, even though everyone knew that promise would be short-lived.

Your bond with Oscar extended to his entire family. His younger sister—Hattie, Edie, and Mae, all adored you, looking up to you like the cool older sibling they didn’t have. You would play dress-up with them, let them braid your hair, and sometimes even join them for impromptu tea parties. They would giggle uncomfortably at your dramatic impressions of princesses and villains, their laughter echoing through the house. Nicole often remarked how good you were with them, and Chris would joke that you were training to be a babysitter.

Your home as well was equally a second home for Oscar. Your parents trusted him implicitly, often leaving him in charge when they needed someone to keep you grounded. He had this knack for calming you down whenever you’re in one of your hyperactive moods, his steady demeanor a much-needed anchor to your whirlwind of personality. Oscar often got praised by your parents, calling him the voice of reason in your friendship dynamic. But even they couldn’t stay mad for long when Oscar ended up being roped into your schemes. They would shake their heads and sigh, but deep down, they were glad you had someone like Oscar in your life—someone who did not just tolerate your chaos, but embraced it in his own quiet way.

Growing up with Oscar was more than just having a best friend, it was having a partner in every memory worth keeping. From lazy afternoons spent sprawled out on the grass, staring at the clouds, to winter nights curled up on the couch watching movies, every moment with Oscar felt like an adventure.

You had suddenly remembered that one time—it was the kind of night that felt alive, the air cool but not biting, sky’s a velvet canvas scattered with stars. You had been sitting on the edge of your bed, staring aimlessly at the analog clog, when the idea hit you—a reckless, wild idea that made your heart race with excitement. Sneaking out was not new to you, but this time, you wanted company. Specifically, you wanted Oscar.

Convincing him was not really easy. You had climbed through his bedroom window—something you had done far more time than you could count, and found him already half-asleep, wrapped in his favorite blanket with his hair sticking up at odd angles.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled groggily, squinting at you.

“Come on, we’re going out,” you whispered, a grin spreading across your face.

“Out where?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, though you could hear the reluctance in his voice. “It’s already late at night.”

“Just get dressed. Trust me, you’ll love it.” you smiled.

Oscar groaned, muttering something about how this was a terrible idea, but eventually, he swung his legs out of his bed and grabbed a hoodie. You knew that he would come around, he always did. By the time you reached the abandoned public pool, the chain-linked fence loomed in front of you, its weathered surface dotted with a big faded NO TRESPASSING sign.

He stopped in his tracks, crossing his arms. “You dragged me out of bed for this? We’re not getting in.”

“Oh have a little faith, would you,” you said, as you pull out a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters.

He stared at you, blinking slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” you replied, popping the p.

“You stole those, didn’t you?” Oscar questioned.

“Borrowed,” you corrected, grinning mischievously as you hefted the tool.

Oscar sighed, the kind of exasperated sigh he seemed to reserve exclusively for you. “You’re insane.”

“And you love it,” you teased, motioning for him to follow you.

You led him to the back of the pool area, where the bushes grew thick and wild, partially hiding the fence. Kneeling down, you positioned the bolt cutters against the rusted metal links and started to work. The snap of metal breaking was surprisingly loud in the quiet night, but you pressed on, ignoring Oscar’s whispered protest.

“This is such a bad idea,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to appear. “If we get caught—”

“We won’t get caught,” you interrupted, voice calm but firm. “Relax, Osc. I’ve done this before.”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” he said, but voice softened when he saw the concentration on your face. “You’re weirdly good at that,” he admitted after a moment, watching as you expertly cut a hole big enough for the two of you to crawl through.

“Why thank you, my good sir,” you said, brushing the dirt off your hands as you stepped back to admire your work. “Now come on, ladies first.” you teased, to which he just rolled his eyes at you.

Oscar followed you through the gap in the fence, grumbling under his breath but too curious to stop. The pool stretched out in front of you, its surface shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Despite the place being abandoned, the water was crystal clear, a testament to whoever was still maintaining it.

“So this is your idea of fun in the middle of the night?” he asked, tone caught between disbelief and amusement.

“Yep.” you smiled.

Shaking his head, he trailed after you to one of the old sunbeds. You plopped down first, stretching out and tilting your head back to gaze at the stars. After a moment, he sat down beside you, arms resting on his knees. For a while, neither of you spoke. The night was so still that the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of crickets felt almost amplified. It was peaceful in a way that made the world beyond the fence feel far away and unimportant.

“You really come here a lot?” Oscar finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, but somehow, they found where I would sneak in and boarded it off.” you said softly. “It’s kind of my spot. No one bothers me here, and I can think peacefully.”

He glanced over at you, expression unreadable. “It’s nice,” he admitted, voice low.

“Told you,” you said with a small smirk, nudging him with your shoulder.

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “I still think you’re insane. But thanks for bringing me here.”

“See? You love it!” you teased again, but this time, your tone was gentle.

He didn’t argue back, just leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the stars. For all his initial protests, you could tell he was enjoying himself.

The quiet stillness of the night surrounded you as you sat on the sunbeds, gazing up at the sky. The stars seemed to shimmer more brightly than usual, scattered across the inky darkness like tiny diamonds. The gentle hum of crickets filled the silence, a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. You turned your head slightly, glancing at Oscar, who was leaning back, arms folded behind his head, and face relaxed but thoughtful.

“So,” you started this time, breaking the silence. “How’s karting going for you?”

Oscar turned his head towards you, brow lifting slightly. “It’s going good,” he said, tone casual, but there was a spark in his eyes as he spoke. “I’ve got another competition coming up soon. You’d know all about it if you actually came to one for once.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling a little. “You know that karting isn’t my thing.”

“Not your thing,” he repeated, almost scoffing, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve been saying that for years. You’ve never even given it a chance.”

“I cheer for you in spirit,” you said, leaning back against the sunbed with a grin. “That counts, right?”

Oscar let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible. But seriously, you should come sometime. It’s not just about the racing—you’d see what it’s all about. Besides, my family would love to have you there.”

“I know,” you said quietly, gaze drifting back to the stars. “But I don’t need to be there to know you’re amazing. I’m always proud of you, you know that.”

He smiled softened at your words, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, as if something had been weighing on him, he spoke again.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he began, voice a little hesitant, “I’m probably moving to the UK soon. There’s more opportunity there for racing. Better teams, better chances to make it in F1.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you didn’t know to respond to Oscar. You felt a slight pinch in your chest, a dull ache you could not quite place. But as always, you pushed it aside, refusing to let it show.

“Oh, wow,” you said, turning to him with a smile that you hoped didn’t look forced. “So, you’re leaving me, huh?”

Oscar gave you a look—half amused, half exasperated. “I’m not leaving you,” he said firmly. “It’s just something I need to do.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, poking his arm lightly. “Just don’t forget me when you’re already a big shot in F1, okay? Don’t pretend you don’t know me when I show up at one of your races, like, hey, remember me? The one dragged you into all her bad ideas?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Like I could ever forget you. You’d probably try and break into the paddock if I didn’t let you in.”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin, though your chest still felt tight.

Oscar tilted his head, looking at you more seriously now. “What about you?” he asked. “What do you want to do? Where do you see yourself in a few years?”

You hesitated, staring back up at the sky as if the stars might have an answer for you. The truth was, you did not know at all. You never had. The thought of planning your life out like that felt daunting, like trying to catch smoke in your hands.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you admitted finally, voice soft. “As cliché as it sounds, I guess I’ll just…go with the flow. See where life takes me.”

Oscar studied your face for a moment, gaze thoughtful. “That’s not a bad thing, you know,” he said. “Some people tend to spend their whole lives planning and never stop to actually live.”

You turned your head to him, surprised by his words. You know that Oscar was philosophical in some type of way, and it always surprises you, but there was something reassuring in the way he said it.

“Yeah,” you murmured, offering him a smile. “Maybe.”

You reached inside of your jacket and pulled out two juice boxes of sunshine punch. You tossed one to Oscar, who caught it with a raised eyebrow.

“Sunshine punch? Really?” he asked, tone teasing as he turned the box over in his hands.

“I know, I’m the best, aren’t I?” you replied, already poking the straw into yours and taking a sip.

Oscar gave you a small shake of his head but didn’t argue. He was not a fan of the drink, you both knew that early on, but he appreciated the gesture. He poked the straw in, took a small sip, and scrunched his nose lightly. You just laughed quietly to yourself, looking out at the pool.

The water glistened under the moonlight, a perfect reflection of the pale orb in the sky. Silence between you was comfortable, just the two of you simply drinking your juice boxes, watching the faint ripple of water and the shadows cast by the surrounding bushes. But then, a sharp flash of light broke through the calm, your heart jumped as the beam of a flashlight swept across the area. You then froze, juice box in hand, while Oscar turned to look at you, confused.

“Finish your juice box,” you whispered urgently, quickly sipping the last of your drink and tossing the empty juice box into a trash bin.

“What “ Oscar whispered back, voice incredulous. “Why?”

“Just do it!” you urged, voice tight as your eyes scanned the area for a hiding spot.

Lscar grumbled, not really happy that you were hurrying him with his juice box, but he drank it quickly. You were already moving, searching desperately for somewhere you and Oscar could hide, but there was nothing. No bushes dense enough, no shadows deep enough. The pool shimmered ominously in your peripheral vision as the flashlight beam drew closer.

“Hold your breath,” you whispered sharply, grabbing Oscar’s wrist.

“Wait, what—” he started, but you didn’t give Oscar the chance to finish.

You yanked him forward, making him drop the juice box to the ground, and without a second thought, you pushed him into the pool. The water was shockingly cold against your skin as you followed him in, the splash louder than you had hoped. You gestured quickly at Oscar, motioning for him to stay under and not make any movement. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and panic, but he nodded, holding his breath as the two of you sank just beneath the surface.

The water muffled everything—whistle of the night, rustle of leaves, even your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Above you, the flashlight beam danced across the pool’s surface, light refracting and breaking into shimmering fragments underwater. You held your breath as tightly as you held onto the pool ladder near you, praying you wouldn’t need to come up too soon.

Bright light lingered near the spot where you and Oscar were submerged. You could feel the tension radiating off of Oscar, his body still beside yours. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every muscle in your body tensed. Finally, the light shifted, moving away from your side of the pool. You waited until the beam disappeared entirely before you tapped Oscar’s arm and motioned upward.

Breaking the surface as quietly as you could, you took in a deep gulp of air. The guard’s faint muttering was distant now, but there was no time to relax. Grabbing Oscar’s wrist again, you pulled him towards the swimming pool ladder, the two of you moving quickly but silently. Once out of the pool, you didn’t even wait to catch your breath.

“Run!” you hissed, tugging him along.

The security had heard the faint splashing as you climbed out and turned, his whistle piercing through the night. “Hey! Stop right there!”

You didn’t look back. Your feet pounded against the concrete as you made a dash for the gap in the fence, snatching up the bolt cutters on the way out. You could not risk leaving it behind, your father would definitely notice that they were missing. Oscar groaned behind you, clearly annoyed but following without hesitation. He was the last one through the gap, and just as you turned to grab his arm and pull him forward, the security’s shouts grew louder.

“Go, go, go!” you urged, practically dragging him by his hand as you sprinted down the street.

The sound of your shoes hitting the pavement echoed in the quiet street of your neighborhood, both your breathing still heavy from running, then noticed the way his right sleeve moved awkwardly against his arm. In the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, you caught sight of a tear in his hoodie, a dark streak seeping through the fabric. Without thinking, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait, Osc, hold on,” you said, pulling his arm closer to inspect it.

Oscar blinked down at you in surprise. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You’re bleeding,” you murmured, tugging the torn fabric back slightly to reveal a shallow but angry scratch on his skin. The blood was fresh, glinting under the light.

He tilted his head at the sight of it, his expression calm. “Huh? I didn’t even notice.”

“I’m so sorry, Osc!” you blurted out, guilt immediately rising in your chest. “It must’ve happened when we were going through the fence. I didn’t—”

“Hey, stop it,” he interrupted, tone firm but soft. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously.”

You hesitated, still holding his arm as if that would somehow make it better. Oscar shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

Even though his words were reassuring, the sight of the wound made you feel uneasy. You let go of his arm reluctantly, murmuring a quiet apology one last time. Oscar just rolled his eyes, though there was no annoyance behind it.

“Come on, let’s get home before we freeze.” he smiled.

The two of you made your way to his house, the familiar sight of the front porch of his house coming into view. You slowed your steps as you approached, realizing that sneaking back inside was not going to work. Oscar’s soaked clothes clung to him, dripping water onto the pavement, and your own shoes squelched with each step. There was no hiding this from anyone.

Oscar gave you a pointed look. “You’re ringing the doorbell.”

You sighed but didn’t argue, stepping up to the door and pressing the doorbell. It wasn’t long before you heard soft footsteps from inside. The door creaked open, and Nicole stood there, face shifting from sleepy confusion to startled concern the moment she saw both you and Oscar.

“What on earth…?” she muttered, eyes scanning your drenched forms. She glanced behind you at the perfectly dry pavement and then back at you both, brow furrowing. “It didn’t rain tonight, what happened?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but she quickly ushered you both inside. “Come in, come in. You’re going to catch a cold standing out there like that.”

Once you were in the warmth of the house, she left for a moment and returned with two towels, handing one to you and the other to Oscar. You wrapped the towel around yourself, the fabric soaking up the cold water clinging to your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” you began, clutching the towel tightly. “It wasn’t my intention to get Oscar dragged into this.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, so you took it as a sign to continue. “We were just hanging out at the public pool, and when the security showed up, we didn’t have anywhere to hide, so we, uh, hid in the pool.”

At that, Nicole’s lips twitched, and then she laughed, a soft, warm sound that immediately eased the tension in your chest. “You two are really something else,” she said, shaking her head.

You blinked at her, surprised by her reaction. “You’re not mad?”

She smiled at you, expression fond. “No, of course I’m not mad. It’s just water. But next time, maybe pick a place where you won’t need to dive into a pool to avoid getting caught, hm?”

You nodded quickly, relieved. “I promise! And please don’t tell my parents.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Nicole smiled again, waving a hand dismissively. “Dry yourselves off, and Oscar, make sure you clean that scratch on your arm before you head to bed.”

Oscar glanced at the tear in his hoodie and nodded. “Yeah, I got it mum.”

Nicole turned to head back upstairs, but she paused, looking over her shoulder. “Oh, and you can stay the night if you want,” she said to you. “It’s so late, and you’re already here.”

You shook your head politely. “Thank you, but I’ll head home.”

She nodded in understanding, giving you both one last look. “Alright then. Oscar, don’t forget to lock the front door and turn off the lights before you head to bed.”

With that, Nicole headed back upstairs, her footsteps soft on the carpeted stairs. You and Oscar were left standing in the entryway, still damp but no longer worried about the consequences.

Oscar glanced at you, lips twitching as if he were about to laugh. “Well, that went better than expected,” he said, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Yeah,” you said, tugging the towel tighter around your shoulders. “Your mum’s the best.”

As a compensation for the troubles you had caused Oscar and waking up his mother, you decided to patch up his wound. You know exactly where their first aid kit was kept, so you wasted no time in retrieving it from the cabinet under the sink. The house was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of the floorboards beneath your wet shoes as you moved. With the kit in hand, you motioned for Oscar to sit at the kitchen counter.

“Come and sit, take off your hoodie. I’ll patch up your wound, it’s the least I can do for causing troubles,” you said softly, gesturing to the torn and bloodstained fabric.

Oscar hesitated for a moment but eventually tugged the hoodie over the head, wincing slightly when his arm brushed against the sleeve. He tossed the hoodie onto the back of a chair and sat down, resting his injured arm on the counter.

You opened the first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of antiseptic, some cotton pads, and a bandage. Setting everything down neatly, you grabbed a damp cloth first to clean the dried blood off of his skin. The scratch was not deep, but it stretched across his arm in a jagged line, red and raw.

“Alright, this might sting a little,” you warned, soaking a cotton pad with antiseptic and dabbing it gently onto the wound.

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, face scrunching up. “A little?” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Feels like you’re pouring fire on it.”

You couldn’t help but grin slightly at his reaction, though you kept your focus on his arm. Stop being dramatic, it’s not that bad.”

“Says the person not being burned alive right now,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

You rolled your eyes, pressing the cotton pad a little more carefully against the scratch. “If you keep moving, it’s going to take longer. Hold still.”

Oscar sighed and complied, sitting as still as he could while you worked. Once the wound was clean, you grabbed the fresh bandage and carefully wrapped it around his arm, making sure it was snug but not too tight.

“There,” you said, trying off the bandage and stepping back to inspect your handiwork. “All patched up!”

He glanced down at his arm and flexed it slightly, wincing a little. “Thanks, Doc,” he said with a small smile.

You began gathering the used cotton pads and other supplies, discarding them into the trash and returning the first aid kit to its usual spot. As you wiped your hands on the towel draped over your shoulders, Oscar leaned back in his chair, eyeing the fresh bandage.

“Think it’s gonna leave a scar?” he asked casually.

You paused for a moment, glancing at the scratch before shrugging. “Probably. But at least it’ll be a cool story.”

Oscar snorted. “Yeah, breaking into an abandoned pool and almost getting caught by security. Real cool.”

You smirked, folding the towel neatly and setting it aside. “You’ll thank me when you’re older and tell this to your kids. Your crazy aunt gave me this scar.’”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around just for the stories, huh?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile on your face. “Anyway, it’s late, or early, I guess. I should head home.”

Oscar stood up as you grabbed your jacket, which was still damp but less soaked than before. “I’ll walk you to the front door,” he offered.

The two of you made your way to the front door, house completely silent except for your footsteps. Oscar unlocked the door and held it open for you, the cool night air rushing in.

“Goodnight,” you said softly, stepping out onto the porch.

“Night,” Oscar replied, lingering in the doorway as you walked down the steps.

The streets were quiet as you made your way home, slipping into your yard and heading straight for the tool shed. You carefully returned the bolt cutter to its original place, making sure everything looked untouched. With that done, you grabbed the ladder that was leaning against the side of the house and quietly climbed up to your bedroom window. Halfway up, you paused and turned your head, glancing across to Oscar’s house, his bedroom window was lit dimly from the inside, and there he was, standing jusy behind the glass. Oscar noticed you looking and mouthed a goodnight, with a smile.

You smiled back and gave him a slight wave in return before turning back to your task. Pulling yourself through the open window, you landed softly on your bedroom floor, finally letting out a breath you had not realized that you were holding.

Years had passed since that night at the pool. Life, as it always did, moved forward, and the close bond you and Oscar had once shared slowly faded into memory. When Oscar left for the UK to pursue his racing career, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, even as you supported him wholeheartedly. It was a bittersweet goodbye without an actual farewell—you didn’t get to see him before he left. Instead, you relied on Nicole to pass along your best wishes, trusting that she would tell him everything you could not.

Not long after Oscar’s departure, your own life took a drastic turn. Your parents had finally decided to move to Sydney for better work opportunities, a decision that uprooted you from the neighborhood you had ever called home. The weeks leading up to the move were a whirlwind of packing boxes, sorting through childhood memorabilia, and saying goodbyes to the people who had been part of your life for so long—the Piastris were among the hardest to leave behind. Nicole hugged you tightly, and Chris offered his usual kind words, and Oscar’s sisters promised to write, though you all knew how unlikely that was to happen.

When the moving day came, you left quietly. There wasn’t much time for sentimentality—just final glance at the house you grew up in before climbing into the car. Sydney will be a fresh start for your family—as how your parents had put it, but you could not shake the feeling that you were leaving a piece of you behind.

The transition to Sydney was not easy, but somehow, you managed. The city was bigger, busier, and an unfamiliar territory, yet you adapted, throwing yourself into a routine that kept your mind occupied. You rarely thought about the past, though every now and then, something would remind you of Oscar—a fleeting mention of his name in news and online articles, or a memory that surfaced at the most unexpected times.

Nine months after moving to Sydney, something changed yet again. What started as fatigue and unexplained bruises turned into something far more serious. One day, your parents rushed you to the hospital after you fainted at home. Series of tests were run, questions were asked, and finally, a doctor say you down with an expression that left no room for doubt.

Stage two leukemia.

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. You felt entirely detached, as though they were speaking to someone else. Your parents’ reactions were immediate—your mother bursting into tears and your father was gripping your hand tightly. But you were just sitting there, silent and still. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You didn’t ask why this was happening to you. Instead, you felt a strange sense of calmness wash over you, a quiet acceptance that settled over you like a blanket. Maybe it was shock, or maybe it was the realization that no amount of questioning or anger would change what was already done.

Later that night, after the initial flurry of doctors and paperwork, you sat with your parents in the sterile quiet of your hospital room. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a pale glow on their worried faces. You looked at your parents, both were still trying to process what they had been told, and made a request.

“I don’t want anyone else to know,” you said firmly.

Your father frowned, forehead creasing deeply. “What do you mean? People will want to support you—”

“I mean it, dad,” you interrupted gently but resolutely. “Let’s keep this to ourselves. I don’t want anyone worrying about me.”

Your mother hesitated, voice breaking. “What about Nicole and Chris? They’re family to us—they’d want to know.”

You shook your head, your gaze steady. “No. Please. If they find out, they’ll tell Oscar, and I just don’t want him to worry. He’s got enough on his plate, he doesn’t need to hear about this.”

There was a long pause. Your parents exchanged a glance, the kind of silent conversation that only comes with years of partnership. Finally, your father sighed and nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want, we’ll respect it.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, leaning back against the pillows.

Just like that, the secret was sealed. Life shifted into a strange new rhythm—hospital visits, treatments, moments of hope, and days of despair. Through it all, you kept your diagnosis close to your chest, unwilling to burden anyone else with the weight of it.

It had been nearly a year of chemotherapy—long days of sitting in cold hospital rooms in silence, hooked up to IVs that dripped chemicals into your veins. Each session left you feeling more drained than the last, your body growing weaker as the fight dragged on. Still, you clung to the silver of hope that the treatments were doing something, anything, to slow down the disease. But hope has a way of unraveling.

Your latest round of tests came back, and the news was worse than you could have imagined. The chemotherapy was not working. Instead of improving, your condition had worsened, and now the doctors were delivering the words you had dreaded since the beginning.

Stage four.

You sat still inside the small consultation room, the sterile white walls closing in around you as the doctor explained your options. Words such as aggressive treatment and clinical trials floated in the air, but you were not really listening to what the doctor was saying. Your parents were, though—you could see the desperation in their faces as they clung to every word, searching for something to hold onto.

Later that night, at home, you lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling with the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on your chest. You thought about the past years, about how much you had endured and how little had come from it. The endless cycle of nausea, fatigue, and pain had left you feeling like a shadow of yourself. What was the point of continuing if it wasn't even making you better?

The next morning, you asked your parents to sit down with you in the living room. They looked at you with concern, sensing that this conversation was different. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before speaking.

“I want to stop the chemotherapy,” you said quietly but firmly.

Your mother’s eyes widened, a hand flying to her mouth. “What? No—you can’t mean that, honey. We’re fighting this, remember? You’ve been so strong—”

“I’ve been strong,” you whispered gently, meeting her gaze. “But I’m tired, mum. I’m so fucking tired. This treatment is no longer working on me. We all know damn well that it’s not working.”

Your father’s face was tense, his hands gripping the armrest of his chair. “The doctors said there are other options. Experimental treatments, new drugs—sweetheart, they haven’t given up on you, and neither should you.”

You sighed, trying to find the right words to make them understand. “I know you want me to keep fighting, and I love you for that. But this isn’t living anymore, every single day feels like a battle that I’m losing. I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left feeling like this.”

Tears welled up in your mother’s eyes as she reached for your hand. “There has to be something else that we can do. We can’t just stop.”

“I’m not giving up,” you said softly, squeezing her hand. “I’m just choosing a different path. The doctors mentioned alternatives, things that might help me feel better without the chemo. I want to try those instead, I want to focus on quality of life, not quantity.”

There was a long silence as your parents absorbed your words. Your father looked down at the floor, his jaw clenched, while your mother wiped at her tears. Finally, he spoke, voice low and strained.

“If this is what you want, okay, we’ll support you. But it’s not easy for us to accept.”

“I know,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I know it’s not easy. But this is what feels right for me.”

Your mother nodded through her tears, her grip on your hand tightening. “We’ll talk to the doctors tomorrow. We’ll figure out the alternatives.”

You leaned into your mother’s embrace, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow. It was not an easy decision, but it was yours, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.

You never thought that you would be back to where it all started. The sun was warm on your back as you stood in front of the old house, taking in the neighborhood that had once been so familiar. Everything seemed different now—houses, gardens, and even the way the air smelled, but the tree with the tyre swing still stood proudly in the front yard. The sight of it tugged at your chest, stirring a mix of nostalgia and longing. You remembered how you and Oscar used to spend hours climbing its sturdy branches, swinging so high on the tyre that your parents would often scold you to be careful.

You took a tentative step toward the tree, wondering if the names you and Oscar had carved into the bark were still there. You hadn’t really thought about that in years, but the memory was vivid of how the two of you had sat side by side, each clutching a small pocket knife that you were not supposed to have, giggling as you carefully etched your initials into the wood. Before you could reach the tree, a voice called out your name.

You turned around quickly, heart skipping a beat as you saw her—Nicole. Nicole just stood there, just as warm and welcoming as you remembered. Her face lit up in recognition, and before you could say anything, she crossed the distance between you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, arms wrapping around you with a familiar kind of affection that nearly brought tears to your eyes. “It’s been so long! Look at you—you’ve grown up so much.”

You smiled nervously as she pulled back, her hands still resting on your shoulders. “Hi, Mrs. P. It’s been a while.”

“Too long, my dear,” she said, voice tinged with both happiness and surprise. “I heard your family was back in town, but I didn’t think I’d run into you so soon! How are you? How are your parents?”

“They’re good,” you replied, voice steady despite the sudden nervousness creeping into your chest. “They’re inside, actually, talking to the realtor.”

Nicole nodded, eyes scanning your face with that same maternal kindness you remembered from your childhood. “And how are you, sweetheart? It’s been ages since I last saw you.”

Your throat tightened for a moment. She did not know. No one ever did, except your parents. You forced a small smile and nodded. “I’m doing okay. Just taking it one day at a time, you know?”

She smiled warmly, completely unaware of the weight behind your words. “That’s good to hear. It’s so nice to see you back, Brighton hasn’t been the same without you.”

You shifted slightly, glancing around the neighborhood before returning your gaze to her. “How’s everyone by the way? The whole family, especially the girls.”

“Oh they’re all doing great,” Nicole said brightly. “The girls are growing up so fast—you wouldn’t even recognize them! Then Oscar…”

At the mention of his name, your heart seemed to skip. You hadn’t thought about him in a very long time, and now, hearing his name felt both comforting and surreal.

“How’s Oscar?” you asked, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in your chest.

Nicole’s face lit up with pride. “Oh, he’s doing wonderfully! You wouldn’t believe it—he’s made it to F1! He was signed with McLaren.”

The words hit you like a burst of sunlight, flooding you with an overwhelming sense of happiness that you could not even describe. Your lips parted in surprise, and you felt your chest swell with pride.

“He did it?” you asked softly, almost in disbelief.

Nicole nodded, smile widening. “He did! It’s been such a journey for him, but he’s finally there. All those years of hard work have paid off.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I always knew he would make it. I never doubted it for a second.”

Nicole chuckled, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “He worked so hard for this, and I know he would love to see you. Oscar’s been so busy, especially with the races, but I’m sure that he’d be thrilled to know you’re back.”

You hesitated for a moment, the thought of seeing him again stirring a mix of emotions you were not quite ready to unpack. “That’s amazing,” you said finally, voice filled with genuine admiration. “I’m so proud of him.”

Nicole smiled knowingly, as if she could see just how much you meant it. “You should tell him that yourself sometime. I know that he’d love to hear it.”

You nodded, though you were not sure if you would.

You and your family are back yet again in Brighton. The day was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that made you feel every sound—rustle of leaves in the breeze, distant hum of cars passing by, faint creak of the porch beneath your weight. You were sitting there, knees pulled to your chest, gazing out at the familiar neighborhood that had shaped so many of your memories. It was strange to think that after today, this house, street, and view would no longer be yours.

Your parents were just inside the house, tying up loose ends with the realtor, discussing the final details of the sale. You had excused yourself, not wanting to be a part of it. The mere thought of walking through the now-empty rooms, stripped off the warmth and life they once held, felt too heavy. So you stayed outside, perched on the porch steps, letting the sights and sounds of Brighton seep into you one last time.

The air carried an unusual faint chill, and you hugged your arms around yourself as you scanned the street. It was still the same in many ways—neatly trimmed lawns, rows of houses with their uniform yet distinct façade. But it also felt different, as if time had moved on without you, leaving you as an observer rather than a participant. As your eyes wandered, something, or rather, someone had caught your attention. You straightened slightly, squinting to make sure that you were not imagining things. Walking down the sidewalk, with an easy familiar stride, was Oscar.

For a moment, you were struck by how much he had changed. He carried himself differently now, more confident, assured, as if the years away had molded him into someone who fully belonged in the world he had always dreamed of. But that was not what held your attention. Beside Oscar, her arm lightly brushing against his, was a girl. She was gorgeous in an effortless way that made it impossible to look away. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight, her laughter rang out softly as she spoke to Oscar, and her smile was the kind that lit up her whole face.

You felt it then—a sharp, unbidden pang in your chest. It was not jealousy, not exactly. It was something deeper, aching. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them, from the way they walked together, so perfectly in sync, so natural. They looked so good together, like a pair that had been meant to find each other. And you? You just sat there, still and silent, feeling like an intruder on a moment that was not meant for you to see.

You hated the way how your mind began to spiral, unearthing old, buried feelings that you had tried so hard to forget and ignore. You thought you had moved past it, but now, sitting there, it was undeniable. You had loved Oscar, or at least something close to it. You never admitted it to anyone, not even to yourself. But it had always been there, in the way your heart quickened when he smiled at you, in a way you always wanted to make him laugh, in the way you looked for him in every crowded room.

But you never told him. How could you? He was Oscar—steady, kind, driven, and you were you. A troublemaker. Reckless. Always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that someone like him could never feel the same way about you, that you were not the kind of person he would ever want.

But now, watching him with her, it only proved what you had always known deep down. They looked perfect together, in a way you could never imagine yourself fitting into his life. She had the kind of refinement and grace that seemed effortless, while you were rough around the edges and acting on impulsive decisions.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away, but it was already too late. The image of them, of Oscar, was already etched into your mind, and as you sat there, you chest heavy with an ache you couldn’t shake, you knew that saying goodbye to this house and street was not the hardest part of leaving Brighton.

The hardest part was letting go of something you never truly had.

You were standing by your family car, hands crossed to your chest, waiting for your parents to finish up inside when you heard someone call your name. Turning, you saw Nicole walking briskly towards you, face lighting up as she reached you. Before you could even say anything, she had already extended an invitation for you and your family to come over to their house for the afternoon.

You hesitated, glancing towards your parents who were just stepping out of the house. A quiet panic bubbled inside you, this was not what you were expecting, and you certainly were not in the mood to socialize. But you did not want to be rude, especially to Nicole who had always been warm and kind. So, with a quiet nod, you agreed.

The Piastri house hadn’t changed that much. The familiar scent of home cooking and the subtle hum of conversation greeted you the moment you stepped through the door. Your parents were warmly embraced by Nicole, their chatter filling up the air as if no time had passed since your last visit. You lingered near the entryway, unsure of where to place yourself, when you heard excited voices. Hattie, Edie, and Mae appeared out of nowhere, voices high-pitched with excitement as they spotted you.

Before you could even say a word, they wrapped you in a tight group hig, their arms squeezing you with an intensity that left you breathless. You tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a wheeze, your words muffled by the weight of their embrace.

“Alright, let her breathe!” Oscar’s voice cut through the chaos.

The three of them reluctantly stepped back, each of their faces flushed with excitement. You caught your breath, offering a weak smile as they began firing a series of questions at you in rapid succession.

“How have you been?”

“What are you up to these days?”

“How are you finding Sydney?”

The questions came at you like a tidal wave, and you barely managed to mumble a response before another question followed. It was overwhelming, too much all at once, and just when you felt yourself starting to falter, Oscar intervened again.

“Okay, that’s enough interrogation,” he said, tone light but firm as he stepped between you and his sisters. “Give her a minute to breathe, yeah?”

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Now, it was just you and Oscar, and the silence between you felt louder than anything his sisters had said. You looked at him, unsure of what to really say or where to start, and in the end, you settled for the safest and simplest thing you could ever think of.

“Congratulations by the way,” you said, voice quieter than you intended. “On making it to F1.”

His lips curved into a smile, soft and genuine. “Thanks. It’s been a crazy few years.”

You nodded, really unsure of how to respond, and the silence threatened to stretch on uncomfortably. But then he added, “I’m back in Australia for the Grand Prix.”

“Oh, that’s amazing,” you said, meaning it. “I’m proud of you, Osc. Really.”

Oscar tilted his head slightly, a smile turning into a more playful one. “You still don’t watch the races, though, do you?”

You laughed softly, the sound surprising even you. “No. It’s still not my thing.”

“Figures,” he said, laughing along with you.

The moment felt almost normal, a small glimpse of the easy connection you used to share. But it was fleeting. Oscar shifted slightly, his expression changing as he turned towards the doorway.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, tone casual. “I want you to meet Lily, my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

Lily. There she was. She stepped into view, her presence effortless and magnetic. Up close, she was even more stunning than you had realized, her features flawless and her demeanor warm. She smiled at you, and it was not forced or polite, it was kind, genuine, disarmingly sweet, and most of all, welcoming.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, extending a hand. Her voice was soft, yet it carried an ease that made you feel immediately out of place. “Oscar had told me so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you shook her hand, offering a small smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

As she spoke, her kindness and charm were really undeniable, and you found yourself unable to summon any ill will towards her—it even made you feel bad for even thinking about something badly about Lily. She was lovely, perfect even, and though you wanted to find a reason to dislike her, you couldn’t. Lily was everything you were not—poised, polished, radiant.

The three of you stood there, exchanging conversations. You couldn’t help but take in the way Oscar looked at Lily—the softness in his eyes, the way his smile lingered when he spoke to her. It was clear how much she meant to him, and as much as it stung. You felt a lump rise in your throat, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to smile and nod along to the conversation.

It was going to be a very long day, and you just have to get through it. You reminded yourself that this was not about you—it never had been.

The Piastri household was buzzing with life as the afternoon was painted with golden hues. Inside, everyone seemed immersed in their own words. Your parents were deep in conversation with Nicole, their laughter and voices carrying through the air as they caught up on years of life. Hattie, Edie, and Mae were busy entertaining themselves, their giggles occasionally echoing from another room. Oscar and Lily sar close together, their connection evident in the way they talked and laughed, though they were kind enough to include you in the occasional exchange.

Observing what was happening around you, you can’t help but feel out of place, as though you were floating on the edges of a scene that didn’t belong to you anymore. You forced a polite smile, and excused yourself with a mumbled explanation about needing to grab something from the car. No one seemed to question it, and you slipped out of the house unnoticed.

As you closed the door behind you, you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. The tension that had coiled tight in your chest while you were inside slowly began to unwind. You stuffed your hand into your black leather jacket pockets and started down the quiet street, letting your feet guide you without much thought.

The familiar streets brought a wave of nostalgia, and as you walked, your mind wandered back to simpler days. Eventually, you found yourself wondering if that small family-owned store—one where you and Oscar used to visit after his karting victories, was still there. It felt like eons ago, but the memory was sharp and vivid—you and Oscar bursting through the shop’s door, with Oscar still giddy from the races, and celebrating his win with an ice cream as though it were the most important ritual in the world.

When you turned the corner, there it was. The modest storefront stood just as it had all those years ago, the paint already slightly faded but otherwise unchanged. The familiar bell above the door chimes as you step inside, and the scent of sweet, aged wood mixed with the faint aroma of candy hits you instantly. The store looked exactly the same. Shelves lined with old fashioned sweets, rows of snacks, and that unmistakable freezer filled with ice cream in the corner. Your eyes scanned the small shop, and behind the counter stood great old Uncle Roger, his face lighting up with recognition as he spotted you.

“Well, well,” he said, settling down a box he had been unpacking. “If it isn’t trouble itself!”

A wide grin spread across your face. “Hey Uncle Roger,” you greeted warmly. “You still remember me?”

He chuckled, stepping around the counter to stand in front of you. “Of course, I do! How could I forget the little rascal who used to hide in my back room to hide from the chaos she caused and would sometimes scare my customers away?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, really?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Need I remind you of the time you pulled that prank with the balloons and the flour? Or the time you locked that bou Tommy out of the store and wouldn’t let him back in?”

You laughed again. “Okay, maybe a little chaos.”

“And poor Oscar,” he continued, tone light. “You used to drag him into all your mischief. That boy was too patient for his own good.”

You softly chucked as you nodded. “Guilty as charged,” you admitted. “Though, to be fair, Oscar was a willing accomplice most of the time.”

Uncle Roger let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the small shop. “That he was. Good kid, though, and look at him now—a big shot race. His folks must be over the moon.”

“They are,” you said, smiling faintly.

“And what about you?” Uncle Roger asked, rone softening as he studied you. “What have you been up to all these years? You look different. Grown up.”

You hesitated, not wanting to delve too deeply into everything. “Life has been…pretty interesting,” you replied vaguely. “Moved to Sydney, tried to figure things out. It’s been a ride, that’s for sure.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing there was more to the story, but he did not push. “Well, you’ve always been a fighter,” Uncle Roger said kindly. “I’m sure whatever it is, you’re handling it like a champ.”

You smiled at his words, though a part of you felt the weight of them in a way he could not even understand. “Thanks, Uncle Roger,” you said softly.

He grinned again, stepping back towards the counter. “Now, I assume you didn’t just come in here to reminisce. Let me guess—you’re here for the ice cream, aren’t you? Same flavor as always?”

You laughed, a genuine sound this time, and nodded. “It wouldn’t feel right to leave without it.”

“Coming right up,” he said, already moving to the freezer. “Some things never really change, do they?”

The hours slipped by without you even realizing it. Time seemed to pause within the walls of Uncle Roger’s store, the air filled with the nostalgic hum of its old ceiling fan and the occasional chime of the doorbell. You had taken it upon yourself to help behind the counter, ringing up purchases and chatting with customers as though you had been working at the store for years. It wasn’t part of the plan, but when Uncle Roger had laughed and handed you an apron, you could not resist.

“I’ve always wanted to work at a place like this,” you had told him earlier with a grin, and he’d chuckled. “Well, here’s your chance to experience it. Just don’t scare off the customers,” he’d teased before heading to the back to work on inventory.

Now, perched on a stool behind the counter, you twirled a lollipop between your fingers, its sugary sweetness lingering on your tongue. The small television mounted by the corner played a rerun of an old sitcom, the laughter track punctuating the quietness of the store. You glanced at the clock, realizing just how much time had passed since you had walked through the door, but you didn’t mind.

The familiar chime of the doorbell pulled your attention back to the counter, and you straightened instinctively. “Hello, welcome to Uncle Roger’s!” you greeted brightly, a practiced smile already in place.

When your eyes landed on the customer, your heart skipped. It was Oscar.

Oscar’s smile was warm and slightly amused as he approached the counter. “I had a feeling that you would be here,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of the counter, eyes flicking to the apron you wore, and his smile widened. “But I didn’t expect to find you working.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Well, it’s not everyday you get to live out a childhood dream. I figured, why not?”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly. “Of course you would.”

He made his way to the drinks section, scanning the shelves before grabbing a couple of items. When he returned, he placed the drinks on the counter in front of you. You glanced at them as you reached for the scanner, hands immediately pausing when you recognized the brightly colored packaging.

It was a sunshine punch. Two juice boxes.

Your eyes flickered to Oscar briefly. “Sunshine punch, really?” you asked casually, though you couldn’t hide the slight surprise in your tone. “I thought you hated this stuff.”

He shrugged, expression unreadable. “Maybe my taste has changed,” he said simply.

You just hummed un acknowledgement, though you couldn’t help but wonder. From what you had remembered, he could barely stand the smell of it, let alone drink it. Then you wondered, maybe it was for Lily and him, you thought silently, and the thought of it tugged at something in your chest.

As you rang up the items, you kept your tone professional, if not, a bit playful. “Would you like to bag these?” you asked.

Oscar shook his head, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “No bag, thanks. Gotta save the turtles, right?”

You laughed softly at that, handing him the total. “Fair point,” you said, watching as he counted out the cash. You handed him his change, slipping into a mockingly formal tone. “Thank you for shopping at Uncle Roger’s, please come again!”

The two of you burst into laughter at how silly you sounded, with your laughter filling the quiet store. It felt easy, natural—like stepping back into a moment frozen in time. But as the laughter faded, a sigh escaped your lips, unbidden.

Oscar laughed outright at that, shaking his head as he pocketed his change. “You sound way too serious. Are you sure you haven’t secretly been doing this for years?”

You chuckled, leaning your arms on the counter. “Hey, I’m just trying to be professional. Gotta make a good impression on the boss.”

“How about we go to that public pool that we used to go to as kids?” Oscar said as he lingered near the counter while you glanced back at him, processing his unexpected suggestion.

“The abandoned pool?” you repeated softly, a mix of surprise and curiosity in your voice.

It had been years since you had even thought about that place, let alone considered even going back there. The idea felt surreal.

“Yeah, it’s still around,” he said with a small shrug, tone casual, though there was a glint of something, maybe akin to nostalgia, in his eyes.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure. Alright, let’s go,” you agreed.

You head towards the back of the store, pushing open the swinging door to find Uncle Roger hunched over his clipboard, meticulously counting boxes.

“Hey Uncle Roger,” you called gently, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up from his work, expression softening when he saw you. “Finished already?”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I think I’m going to clock out for the day. Oscar and I are heading out for a bit.”

Uncle Roger’s gaze flickered to the counter, where Oscar was waiting patiently. A wide grin spread across his face as he stepped out from behind the storage shelves.

“Well, now. Look who decided to stick around,” he said, tone warm and teasing. “And in my shop, no less. Oscar Piastri, the Formula 1 driver!”

Oscar laughed lightly, hands tucked into his pockets. “You make it sound way more impressive than it is, Uncle Roger,” he replied modestly.

“Nonsense,” Uncle Roger said with a wave of his hand. “I always knew you were destined for greatness the moment you sat in that kart. It’s good to see you, son.”

Oscar smiled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s good to see you too.”

Uncle Roger’s attention turned back to you, eyes twinkling. “Having you two here today, it’s just like the old times,” he said with a wistful sigh. “You, running around causing trouble, and Oscar, trying to keep up.”

You chuckled, feeling a wave of warmth at his words. “Well, as you said, some things never really change,” you said lightly.

Uncle Roger patted your shoulder. “You’ve been a big help today, my dear. I’ve been meaning to start on that inventory for weeks, but I couldn’t leave the counter. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Anytime,” you said earnestly. “I’ll visit whenever I’m back in Brighton, I promise.”

He nodded, expression softening even further. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Before leaving, you stepped forward to give him a hug, the kind of hug that lingered just long enough to let him know how much his kindness meant to you. You removed the apron and switched it for your black leather jacket. Oscar chimed in with a quick ‘take care, Uncle Roger,’ and you both made your way out of the store, the bell chiming softly behind you.

Relief mingled with a touch of surprise as you nodded your head. “Alright then.”

When you arrived at the abandoned public pool, it was like stepping back in time—a time capsule. The cool air carried a faint scent of earth and old concrete, and the quiet hum of the town surrounded you. You immediately made your way to the part of the chain-link fence that you had cut through all those years ago. A crude, jagged hole that had somehow withstood the test of time. You crouched down to inspect it, your fingers brushing the edges of the worn out metal.

“I can’t believe that it’s still here,” you said softly, more to yourself than Oscar.

The faintest smile tugged at your lips when you noticed the hole had clearly become a regular entrance for others. “Looks like I set the blueprint for sneaking in, huh?”

Oscar chuckled behind you, voice warm. “Yeah, you’re a trendsetter,” he teased.

You ducked through the opening in the fence, Oscar following close behind. The pool area was almost unrecognizable, yet unmistakably the same. The once-pristine tiles were faded and cracked, the pool itself empty and hollow, walls were now layered with colorful graffiti—messages, drawings, and names scrawled over one another in a chaotic tapestry. Though the old sunbeds still lined the deck, many were now broken and rusted. The whole place felt frozen in time, yet irrevocably changed.

Your gaze landed on one particular sunbed, its white paint chipped and the straps slightly frayed. “Oh, that’s the one,” you murmured, walking over to it.

Dusting it off with your hands, you lowered yourself onto the sunbed, letting the weight of the moment settle over you. Above, the stars were scattered across the vast expanse of the night sky, their light faint but steady. The air was still, and for a while, it felt like the world beyond the place didn’t exist. Oscar settled down on the sunbed beside you, legs stretched out, and arms resting on his knees. Like you, his gaze was fixed on the sky. For a long time, neither of you spoke, the silence between you comfortable—familiar.

You were so lost in your thoughts, mind drifting through memories of this place, that you didn’t notice Oscar moving until you felt something brush against your hand. Turning your head, you saw him holding out a juice box of sunshine punch. The drink you thought that Oscar bought a shop were for someone else, turns out that it was for the two of you.

Your breath hitched slightly as your eyes darted from the juice box to his face. “You bought this for me?”

Oscar smiled, a little sheepishly. “For us,” he corrected. “Figured it’d be fitting.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you took the juice box from his hand, the cool surface pressing against your palm. “Thanks, Osc,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You popped the straw into the box, taking a slow sip. The familiar tangy-sweet flavor hit your tongue, and for a moment, you could almost imagine that you were back to being kids again—hanging out in the abandoned public pool, celebrating one of Oscar’s karting wins with ice cream from Uncle Roger’s, inciting chaos, and never ending laughter.

Breaking the stillness, Oscar’s voice came, quiet but steady. “How are you?”

It was a simple question that has an easy answer to it, but the question hung in the air, heavy despite its simplicity. You paused, gaze fixed on the sky above. After a moment, you decided to answer, keeping your tone light.

“I’m fine.”

Oscar turned his head towards you, his expression curious but patient, waiting for you to elaborate. You took another sip of your drink, stalling for time. Finally, you added, “you know, the usual. Just…life.”

It was not much of an answer to Oscar’s question, really, and you knew it. But it was the only answer that you were willing to give him. You’re glad that he didn’t push, though his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked back up the sky.

“Any plans?” he asked after a pause.

You exhaled softly, lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Plans,” you repeated, as if testing the word. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve stopped making them.”

Oscar’s brows furrowed slightly at your answer, and you felt his gaze on you again. You tilted your head back, eyes tracing the constellations.

“Plans are funny, you know?” you continued, voice thoughtful. “You make them, and then shit happens. Sometimes, you end up where you thought you’d be, and other times…” you trailed off, shrugging lightly.

Oscar tilted his head slightly, watching you.

You smiled faintly, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s like what I told you back then? Last time that we were here, on the exact same sunbeds we’re sitting on—wherever life takes me, right?”

He smiled at that, the memory lighting up his expression. “Wherever life takes you,” he repeated softly, as if testing the words in his own voice.

“You know…Lily’s amazing,” you said, tone light but sincere. “She’s a very lovely girl, Oscar. I mean, she’s gorgeous, obviously, but more than that. She’s kind, and has this certain warmth to her that makes it impossible not to like her.”

Oscar glanced at you, a small smile forming on his lips. “She really is,” he agreed softly, voice carrying a sense of pride.

You nodded, your own smile growing. “You two are like a perfect match. Yin and yang, you know? She really balances you out. You know that you’ve always been on the quieter side, but Lily brings out the best and talkative part of you.”

Oscar chuckled at your statement, eyes briefly meeting yours. “She definitely doesn’t let me stay quiet for long.”

You laughed softly, though your thoughts remained bittersweet. “I saw the way she looks at you,” you continued. “It’s so full of love. It’s the kind of look people dream of, you know? You’re really lucky to have her.”

His expression shifted slightly, as though he was not sure how to respond to the unexpected depth of your words. He gave a small nod, his smile turning a little shy.

“I’m proud of you, Oscar. Really.” you added, voice a little quieter now. “For finding someone like Lily. She’s good for you, and I’m happy knowing that she’ll be there for you.”

There was a pause before you continued on, tone suddenly turning more painful, though there was a weight beneath the lightness of it. “At least now I know that someone will be by your side when I’m gone.”

Oscar frowned slightly, he felt a little chill and was caught off guard by your words. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, confused.

You hesitated for a moment, quickly realizing how your words could have sounded. You forced a small laugh, hoping to brush it off. “I just mean, you know, since I had moved to Sydney,” you said, tone casual. “I’m not here anymore. I can’t be by your side like I used to back when we were kids.”

His expression softened, though he still seemed a little bit puzzled by your words. You just smiled softly, looking up again as you added, “but it’s okay. You’ve got Lily now, and she’s amazing. You’re in good hands.”

The walk back from the abandoned public pool was quiet. The kind of quiet that was not uncomfortable, but heavy with so many unspoken words. The sound of your boots scuffing against the pavement and the faint rustling of leaves in the cool night air were the only things breaking the silence. Your hand stayed inside the pockets of your black leather jacket, the smooth lining a small comfort against the cold night.

Oscar walked beside you, his own steps steady and unhurried. You could feel his presence, solid and familiar, yet neither of you made any effort to fill the stillness. There was nothing pressing to say, and perhaps, that was enough.

When you finally turned the corner leading back to your neighborhood, the headlights of your parent’s car came into view, cutting through the dim light of the street. Your parents were standing beside it, their postures relaxed but expectant, while Nicole leaned casually against the hood, arms crossed. As soon as they spotted you, your mother straightened up, relief softening her features.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, voice a mix of mild concern and amusement. “We were starting to wonder where you’d gone off to.”

Oscar was quick to answer, tone light and easy. “We were at Uncle Roger’s shop, just catching up.”

Your father nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, while Nicole’s expression softened, her gaze flitting between you and Oscar. “It’s so good to see the two of you spending time together again,” she said warmly.

Your mother stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “We should get going, sweetheart,” she said softly, eyes kind but tired.

The goodbyes came swiftly after that, each one carrying its own weight. Nicole pulled you into a tight embrace, warmth and familiar scent grounding you for a moment. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she said, voice quiet but firm.

When Nicole let go, it was Oscar’s turn. He stepped closer, arms wrapping around you with a firmness that caught you off guard. It was not one of those quick, polite hugs—it was the kind of embrace that lingered, as if he were trying to hold onto something fleeting.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” he murmured, voice low and sincere. Then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a small, boyish grin appearing on his face. “And you have to come to my race one of these days. No more excuses.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Alright, we’ll see,” you said lightly, though you both knew it was not a promise.

With that, you turned and walked towards the car. As you reach for the door handle, something makes you glance back over your shoulder. Oscar was still standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, watching you with an unreadable expression. You gave him a soft smile, lifting your hand in a casual salute. He returned the gesture, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Sliding into the backseat of the car, you buckle your seatbelt as your father starts the car. The low rumble of the engine filled the silence, and as the car began to pull away, you could not resist a one last look at Oscar through the rearview mirror. Oscar was still standing there, framed by the faint glow of the streetlights, his figure growing smaller and smaller until he disappeared from the view entirely.

You did not look back again, you never looked back. But something in you stirred—a quiet, unshakable feeling that this night, this moment, would never come again. Neither of you could have known that this would be the very last time you would see each other. The very last time Oscar would ever see you.

HOLY CRAP MARVEL

For those of you who weren’t tuned into Disney’s Investor’s Day, Marvel just gave a crap ton of new content, updates, and trailers, that I don’t even know where to begin, but I’m going to try.

1. New WandaVision trailer. This show is coming out January 15th.

2. The events of WandaVision will lead straight into Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness, which will tie in with Spider-Man 3. This film will also be introducing AMERICA CHAVEZ!!! This film will come out March 22nd, 2022.

3. New Falcon and the Winter Soldier trailer. This show is coming out March 19th.

4. Black Widow will hit theatres on May 7th, 2021.

5. The upcoming Loki Disney+ series was announced to be as a crime thriller. According to Kevin Feige, Loki is just as confused about this genre choice as we are. But we did get a new trailer! Loki will hit Disney+ in May 2021.

6. A new first look at the upcoming series “What If?” introducing the Watcher into our grand slate of character announcements. “What If?” will come to Disney+ this summer.

7. Shang Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings announced its cast and will be coming to theatres July 9th, 2021.

8. We got a first look at the upcoming Ms. Marvel series which will be coming to Disney+ late 2021.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRNI9TtBM5E (I’ve found the limit for how many videos tumblr will let me put in a single post.)

9. Captain Marvel 2 was officially announced. In this announcement we got confirmation that both Kamala Khan and Monica Rambeau will be in the movie alongside Carol Danvers. The movie will release in November 2022.

10. Several new casting announcements were made for the upcoming Hawkeye series which will debut on Disney+ Fall 2021.

11. Tatiana Maslaney will star is She-Hulk in the new Disney+ series of the same name. Along with Tim Roth and Bruce Banner reprising their roles as the Abomination and Bruce Banner, and Kevin Feige hinted that since She-Hulk is a superhero lawyer, we could see many new character introduced through this series. No release date has been announced.

12. It is confirmed that Christian Bale will be playing the role of Gorr the God Butcher in the upcoming Thor: Love and Thunder, which will premiere May 6th, 2022.

13. Our favorite Guardians of the Galaxy are back in a live-action holiday special on Disney+ in 2022. It will be directed by James Gunn which and will be released before the third film, which is slated for 2023.

14. Baby Groot is getting a Disney+ series of shorts called “I Am Groot.” No release date as of yet. 

15. Blade is still in the works.

16. Black Panther 2 has been announced, and they will not be recasting the role of T’Challa.

17. War Machine will be returning in a new Disney+ series called Armor Wars, which faces the idea of Tony Stark’s tech falling into the wrong hands.

18. Dominique Thorne will be taking on the role of Riri Williams in her very own Disney+ series, Ironheart.

19. Samuel L. Jackson and Ben Mendelson will be returning as Nick Fury and Talos in the Disney+ series Secret Invasion.

20. The Moon Knight series will be coming to Disney+.

21. Fantastic Four director announced.

22. The next Ant-Man movie will be titled Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania.

23. More on the Eternals cast was announced.

When she met him [b.b.] 50s

[Updated]

Summary: Little was known about Bucky Barnes’ life under the torment of HYDRA. From his disappearance in 1945 to his return in 2014 were years that seemed to be blank, lost in his memory, years in which he escaped the clutches of the terrorist organisation, fell in love, managed to live a full life, and once again became the Winter Soldier.

Main Characters - 1950s

Bucky Barnes / Winter Soldier

Female Reader [Michelle Wells]

Charles Walker: Michelle’s childhood friend. Stark’s business rival. [OC]

Nancy Boyd: Michelle’s friend. [OC]

Howard Stark

Peggy Carter

Moodboards

Bucky Barnes

Michelle Wells

Playlist

Chapters

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Hey mini rant time, I'm so sorry:

Idk if it's just me, but it seems like lots of people are confusing Tommy for Sal Deluca - the guy that Bobby fired for disrespecting the chain of command. Now, was Tommy great in the Chimney Begins and Hen Begins episodes? Not really, but Deluca was definitely the bigger asshole. And honestly, truly we all know that the big bad guy of the fire house in BOTH of those episodes was Captain Gerrard - and regardless of anything you have to recognize that it is hard to stand up to authority figures, and being in a house like that is going to make it even more difficult to do so.

And for the people who definitely aren't confusing him with Deluca -

Tommy definitely could have been better to Chim and Hen when they started at the 118, HOWEVER we can tell by the end of Chimney begins that they have begun to move past their issues and we can tell in the Bobby Begins Again episode that whatever issues Hen had with him she has clearly moved past. Hen and Chim go drinking with him and throw him a going away party when he leaves the 118 just before Buck arrives. If the characters that were harmed by his actions were able to forgive and forget (and it was shown multiple seasons prior to the current one) so can you. And if you can't, then I want to know why you are able to forgive Buck for how he treated Eddie when he first arrived or how he treated Ravi during the blackout and after Chimney left? People change, characters grow, etc etc.

Please stop trying to make it out like it's the morally superior thing to dislike him.

a sneaky peeky

hey, y'all! so since my harley quinn inspired fic i've been talking about is turning out to be a lot longer than i originally planned (i hit 12k today) and it won't be out a little longer, i thought i'd give you a sneak peek!! this is the opening of the fic, and i hope you all enjoy!! (also, the reader does not look like harley quinn/margot robbie. i just really love birds of prey as well as margot with all of my heart.)

“Stupid fucking bad guys,” Bucky muttered to himself as he leaned against the wall of the elevator. He was heading down to what Sam had so fondly dubbed the Alcatraz of Avengers Tower, watching the floor numbers flash above the door as he got closer and closer. The level he was called to was way below the lobby of the Tower, way below the streets of New York City. The few floors that the prison occupied were rendered indestructible, surrounded with concrete, steel, and vibranium for good measure. The only way to get to it was to go all the way up to the Avengers Command floor and then take a separate (secret) elevator down.

It was possibly the most secure place in New York, and the most confidential. There’d been a plethora of villains kept there that the Avengers had stopped before the public had even gotten the slightest hint about their existence.

It was better that way, he supposed. And it wasn’t like the villains didn’t get a trial.

Just… a secret one.

Bucky rubbed the sleep from his eyes, fighting back a yawn. The distressed wakeup call from FRIDAY had been less than welcome. It was the first time in four days that he hadn’t woken up from a night terror. Plus, he didn’t really fancy heading to a team meeting in his pajamas.

“Can’t they wait to do their… their villain shit when it’s not two in the morning?” He asked the AI.

“Apparently not, Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY said, her voice warm.

If an AI’s voice could be warm.

When the doors finally opened on the second to last floor, way down in the basement of the Tower, he was greeted by the sight of the rest of the Avengers standing in front of the singular cell on this floor, all in various states of disarray somewhat similar to his, except for Natasha who looked pristine in her uniform. With the wall that they formed, he couldn’t even see who the occupant was. In the years he’d spent with them, he’d never seen the team so quiet before, but they were all completely entranced with whoever or whatever they were watching.

“What’s the kid doing here?” Bucky asked when he spotted Peter standing somewhat in front of Natasha. His mask was off, but he was still wearing his Spider-Man suit. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

He forgot that the two of them were on patrol that night, with Natasha training the kid in martial arts. They must’ve been the ones who called for the rest of them.

To his credit, the boy had gotten a lot better at recognizing that Bucky’s ribbing was playful and not meant to be taken seriously, especially his comments about him still being a kid. After all, he was in college now, even if he hadn’t moved out of his Aunt May’s place. He was wringing his mask repeatedly as his eyes darted over to the hundred year old man. “Y-You won’t be joking when you see this, M-Mr. Bucky.”

“I told you, kid. It’s just Bu…” He trailed off as he finally wormed his way to stand in between Peter and Natasha.

A girl—no, a woman—was lying on the cold tile floor of the cell.

the story of us - masterlist

series summary - Charles Leclerc is going through possibly the roughest period in his life after his girlfriend Alex, breaks up with him. That is, until, Max Verstappen introduces him to his younger sister - Y/N. Who after a traumatic childhood, finds herself in disaster relationship after disaster relationship - The worst of which leaves her with her beautiful baby, Romy.

Chapter 1 - after a traumatic childhood, y/n verstappen leaves an abusive relationship with a 6 month old baby in tow, with her brother trying to discreetly matchmake her with a certain Monegasque.

Chapter 2 - Charles and Verstappen!Reader meet for the first time as adults with a little plus one. 

More coming soon!

Want to join the taglist? Fill out the form here!

Chrysanthemums // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Reader finds herself fleeing her home, friends and family in Austin, Texas for safety in Los Angeles. Yearning for false safety the nightmare follows her move across the country but with the help of new faces can she survive a devastating situation?

Warnings: Swearing, violence, stalking, blood, injuries, car accident, lots of angst and some fluff (it’s there I promise)

Words: 7.3k 

A/N: I’m back from dead thanks to @merceret​ and the new season of 911. This is a darker tone than I normally so please read the warnings before deciding to continue.

TO BE TAGGED, SEND AN INBOX/ASK, PLEASE! I CAN’T GUARANTEE I’LL SEE YOU COMMENT

Masterlist

It could be seen as ironic how the one place you felt the safest had become tarnished so swiftly and suddenly. Years of experience barely held your sanity together as you stared down the barrel of a gun so much like yours. You could count on one hand how many times you’d been on this end of a gun, and you hated it just as much.

“Please put the gun down.” You schooled your expression from showing the fear that would further feed the person’s power. Your hands continued to be raised at your side, keeping your eyes on the armed assailant.

You’d fallen asleep on the couch after waking up sick. At first, you thought the noise that had roused you was part of your dream. It hadn’t been. It was the person behind the flowers and the odd feeling of being watched.

You should have taken Judd’s offer, but you didn’t want to put Grace in danger. You also didn’t want to take time off work to travel back to Austin. Not after you thought this chapter of your life was closed. You’d even considered being able to stop attending the support group for victims of stalking and violence.

Keep reading

Masterlist

Subject of Interest — fans love carlos’ girlfriend and her unhinged comments and photography hobby

Adore, Amour, Inamorato — charles’ new girlfriend receives a lot of hate for her seemingly joblessness

Melting Hearts — Ferrari hires a chocolatier to cater for their anniversary celebrations! The chocolate isn’t the only thing to melt

Scream Queen — charles loves his girlfriend so much — and he makes it everyone else’s problem

Share the Spotlight - an unofficial fan account gets a little unhinged until it doesn’t…

Unsolved — when charles admits to listening to unsolved, Ferrari take it upon themselves to play matchmaker

Winner’s Circle — max, charles, and y/n are the stars of redbull, ferrari, and aston martin (and their relationship is the star of the internet)

Finally — lando’s girlfriend finally graduates from college and comes along on for this amazing season

Glazed and Confused — when lando fails to make a simple mug, fans direct him towards your YouTube channel

Unexpected Roommate — when moving in with his girlfriend, lando gets confronted with the new side of her pet

Friendly Banquet — logan gets chosen to host the end of the year dinner and that means the grid meets his partner

Picture Perfect — logan’s girl travels with him as his personal photographer

Pole Position — after a(nother) bad race, logan does as anyone in Vegas does — drinks himself into a couple of bottles, meets the newest stripper in the club, and marries her? …wait what??

The Story of Us — logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Three Hearts Left — fans (and friends) are shocked when they find max is married and to who

White Dog Cafe — while daniel forgets plans made with max, max has a meet-cute

Winner’s Circle — max, charles, and y/n are the stars of redbull, ferrari, and aston martin (and their relationship is the star of the internet)

A Perfect Storm — meet dr. alice “barbie” sargaent, professional storm chaser

Aftermath of a Storm — people are shocked to learn about alice and oscar

Week of Romance

Chronological Masterlist

A Beautiful Mess | 3

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 3049

You can read part 1 here and part 2 here.

Right now, I'm shameless Screamin' my lungs out for ya Not afraid to face it I need you more than I want to

The first thing you registered as you woke up was the pounding in your head, like someone was smashing a drum inside your skull. The second was the blinding light hitting your face. You never slept with the curtains open.

"Ugh, my head." You groaned, pressing a hand to your head.

Blinking against the brightness, you forced your eyes open, only to realise, very quickly, that you were not in your bedroom. Your heart stopped and your eyes widened.

You looked around the unknown bedroom. The other side of the bed was unmade and there were clothes scattered on the floor. A pair of pants. A shirt. A man's shirt.

The bedroom door was open, and the distant sound of running water caught your attention.

"Oh my god. No, no, no." You lifted the covers. You were wearing your underwear and that was all you had on. "Noooo!" You groaned, dropping your head into your hands.

What did I do? You questioned yourself. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to piece together the night before. You remembered drinking. Dancing. Meeting a guy at the bar. Eric, right? Had you slept with Eric?

The sound of a door opening, made you open your eyes. You looked up, but you wished you hadn't.

Appearing at the doorway, drying his damp curls with a white towel, was none other than Lando Norris.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He had another towel slung low around his hips, water droplets still clinging to his skin, his toned chest on full display. It could only be a nightmare. Right? Right?

Lando smirked, breaking the silence. "Look who finally decided to wake up. Thought you were dead for a second." You stared, completely frozen. "What? Cat got your tongue?" That snapped you out of your trance.

You jumped out of bed, immediately regretting it when a wave of nausea hit you. "What the hell am I doing here?"

Lando's smirk deepened. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, enjoying your state too much.

"You don't remember?" He asked you, looking you up and down.

You followed his gaze and realised you were basically naked. Yanking the bed covers up to your chest, you shot him a glare.

"Don't need to cover up." He chuckled. "I already saw everything last night." A shiver running down your spine.

"I was drunk!"

"So was I."

Your grip on the sheets tightened. "What happened?" You asked him, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Lando dragged his tongue over his teeth, eyes glinting with amusement. "Come on, you're not that naive."

Your heart nearly stopped. "No."

"Yes."

"No, wa-- Oh my god!" To your absolute horror, Lando dropped the towel that was around his hips. You turned around and squeezed your eyes shut. "What the fuck are you doing, Norris?"

Lando laughed, completely unbothered. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

"I HAVEN'T!"

"You sure? Because that's not what you were screaming last night."

"Shut up!" You turned back around, cautiously peeking through your fingers, but thankfully, he was already wearing pants. Your mind was a chaotic mess. This couldn't have happened. Even drunk, you would never sleep with Lando. "If you tell anyone about this, I swear I will kill you."

Lando chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. No need to tell anyone, I'm pretty sure the whole building heard you last night. Hell, probably all of Monaco."

Your jaw dropped. "You're disgusting."

"A disgusting man you slept with." You grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at his face. He caught it effortlessly, smirking. Spotting your dress and purse draped over an armchair, you made a beeline for them, grabbing them quickly. "Not staying for breakfast?" Lando teased.

"Go fuck yourself." Tightening the sheet around your body, you stormed out of the bedroom.

"Hey! That's my sheet!" He shouted, standing up from the bed. You didn't stop. "Y/n?" Before he could say anything else, you slammed it shut behind you, making the frames on the wall tremble.

He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. Messing with you was way too much fun.

Lando lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head. The room was dimly lit by the city lights outside, casting soft shadows across the walls. The only sound was your slow, steady breathing beside him.

He had told himself he'd leave once you were asleep. That had been the plan. Carry you to bed, stay until you dozed off, and then head to the other room. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to move.

Maybe it was the way you looked so peaceful, completely different from the stubborn woman who drove him insane daily. Or maybe it was the way your face changed every few minutes, like you were dreaming about something.

Lando let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his face. Just as he was debating finally getting up, you stirred beside him.

You shifting under the covers, eyes barely open, still very much drunk. Then, without warning, you reached for the hem of your dress and started pulling it over your head.

Lando shot upright. "What the hell are you doing?"

You huffed in frustration, your dress halfway off. "It's hot."

"So?"

With absolutely zero hesitation, you stripped the dress off completely, tossing it somewhere on the floor. Now, you were left in nothing but your underwear in his bed, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Lando swore under his breath, dragging a hand through his curls. This cannot be happening.

"Jesus, Y/n." He averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. "You can't just--" He sighed. "For fuck's sake." Muttering to himself, he grabbed one of his t-shirts from the closet and turned back toward you. "Put this on!" He said, holding it out.

You made a sleepy noise, barely cracking one eye open. "No."

"Yes."

You groaned and lazily swatted his hand away, turning over so your back was to him. "Too hot." You mumbled.

Lando sat there, t-shirt still in his hand, staring at you. "Unbelievable." He muttered under his breath. Then and idea hit him.

Oh, she was going to lose her mind.

You stumbled into your apartment, slamming the door shut behind you, your breath uneven and your cheeks burning from the humiliation.

Sleeping with Lando Norris was the last thing that should have happened. He was a womanizer, a nightmare and a insufferable idiot.

You groaned loudly, collapsing onto the couch and burying your face in a cushion. "Why did this happen?" You mumbled against the fabric before letting out a muffled scream of frustration. "I hate him. I hate him. I hate him."

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that when you opened them, the last twelve hours would magically rewrite themselves. But the image of him, half-naked, smirking, teasing, was burned into your mind like a bad tattoo.

Kill me now. You thought to yourself.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself up and pulled your phone from your purse. Six missed calls. Eleven messages. You called the first person on the list, already heading to the bathroom. You needed a shower. A long, scalding shower to wash away the disaster that was last night.

"Where the hell have you been? We've been trying to call you all night!" She practically shouted into the phone, the second she picked up.

You winced. "Sorry, I drank too much and... passed out." You rubbed your forehead, catching sight of your reflection in the mirror. Mascara smudged under your eyes. Hair an absolute mess. "I need to ask you--"

"Passed out where? And why did you leave with Norris?" Your friend interrupted.

You froze. Your brain scrambled to piece together her words. You remembered being outside with Eric and Lando. But just the two of them.

"Wait-- you guys let me leave with Lando?" Your voice rose, panic creeping in. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"Y/n, we didn't know you left with him!"

You frowned. "But—how do you—?"

"There are photos and videos of you leaving with him." She said bluntly. "In his car. They're everywhere." A cold shiver ran down your spine. You felt your legs go weak as you gripped the bathroom counter for support. "I thought you were hitting it off with that other guy." Your friend continued. "How the hell did you end up with Lando?"

You ran a hand through your tangled hair, your mind racing. "I-- I don't know." You admitted, panic settling in. "I don't remember! But we—" You stopped yourself just in time, biting your lip. No way in hell were you telling anyone about what may or may not have happened last night. "I'm never drinking again. This was a terrible idea."

Monday had rolled around again, far sooner than you would've liked. You hadn't seen Lando since you stormed out of his apartment wrapped in his bedsheet, and you had no intention of crossing paths with him anytime soon.

But somehow, his fans had found your Instagram account and the follow requests had been insane.

You'd seen the photos and the videos. And, yeah, it looked bad. Really bad. His hand around your waist, your head resting against his chest. The way he leaned in close, like he actually cared. Anyone looking at those pictures would think there was something more than just hatred between you two.

And then there was that picture. That one that made you blush like a tomato.

Your head rested against his chest, looking up at him, while he brushed a stray piece of hair from your face. He had this soft look, like you were the only person in the world.

You could easily pass off as a pair of lovebirds, but that was far from the truth.

"Miss Y/n?" A small voice interrupted your thoughts.

You blinked and looked down to see Clare, one of the little girls from your class, staring up at you with big and curious eyes.

"Yes, Clare?" You asked, forcing a smile as the rest of the kids ran out for playtime.

She motioned for you to come closer, so you bent down.

"You and your boyfriend look cute together!" She whispered in your ear. Your breath hitched. "My mommy showed me the pictures. She said he looks at you like my daddy looks at her."

The innocent compliment made your cheeks burn and for a split second, your heart fluttered, before the reality of it all came crashing back. Before you could respond, Clare giggled and ran off to join her friends, leaving you absolutely stunned.

Lando leaned back in his chair, headset on, fingers flying across the keyboard as he played. The glow of the screen illuminated his focused expression.

"Mate, you're actually terrible." Max groaned as Lando missed another shot in the game.

"Shut up!" Lando shot back, laughing.

There was a brief silence as they played, until Max broke it with a teasing voice.

"So… you and Y/n, huh?"

Lando's fingers froze for half a second before he recovered. "What?"

Max chuckled. "Oh, don't play dumb. I saw the pictures. The whole world saw the pictures."

Lando sighed, already knowing where the conversation was going. "There's nothing going on and you know it."

"Uh-huh." Max said, clearly enjoying himself. "You looked pretty cozy. Hand in her hair, staring at her like she was the last slice of pizza…"

"I was just helping her." Lando muttered, trying to focus on the game. "She was drunk. I wasn't going to let her walk home. I'm not a piece of shit."

"And the part where you like her?"

Lando's character nearly got shot in the game. "I don't!"

Max laughed. "Yeah, yeah, sure. You hate her. That's why you haven't stopped talking about her since that night, right?"

"You're the one that brought her up." Lando groaned. "And if I talk about her because it's because she's annoying!"

Max hummed. "Right, but remind me again, why did you stay in bed with her until she fell asleep?"

Lando gritted his teeth. "Because she was drunk, and I didn’t want her to choke on her own vomit. I'm already regretting telling you that."

Max snorted. "Sure, sure. And the fact that you haven't been with anyone else since that night has nothing to do with her, right?"

"Shut up and play the game."

"I'll shut up when you admit you like her."

"That's never gonna happen."

"Okay, then. Guess I'll just keep sending you those cute photos the fans keep posting."

"Maxxxx!"

You were exhausted. Work had drained every last bit of energy from you, and to make things worse, dinner with your parents had been nothing short of an interrogation.

"So, who is this Lando?"

"Are you dating him?"

"You two look very close in those photos!"

Your mother had shown you the pictures as if you hadn't already seen them a thousand times. Your father, usually indifferent to your personal life, had even said: "He's a race car driver, right? Those guys are trouble."

No matter how many times you insisted that nothing was going on, they wouldn't let up. By the time you finally left, your head was pounding.

All you wanted was to get home, take a shower, and sleep for the next ten hours.

As you pulled into the underground garage of your building, your eyes immediately locked onto your parking spot and the sight of Lando's McLaren sitting right in it. Again.

Your blood boiled instantly. "That prick! He does it on porpuse." You smacked the steering wheel in frustration.

You sat there for a moment, until an idea formed in your mind. With a smirk, you pulled up right behind his car, blocking him in.

Getting out, you slammed the door shut, crossed your arms, and admired your handiwork. Let's see him try to pull out now.

Before you could take three steps, you heard footsteps. Lando appeared, dressed in all black, keys in hand, clearly about to go out. The moment he saw your car blocking his, his expression changed.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He snapped, walking toward you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think my parking spot was yours?"

Lando exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls. "I was only going to grab my phone. I left it upstairs. Relax."

You let out a dry laugh. "Relax?" You gestured to his car. "How about you stop acting like you own the damn building?"

His jaw clenched. "Y/n, move your car. I'm in a hurry."

You tilted your head. "Why should I? Pick another one. It's not like you only own one car."

His frustration was evident, just as much as yours. "I swear it's the last time I park in your spot."

"I don't believe you."

"Move!"

"I don't want to."

Lando stepped closer, close enough that you could smell his cologne, his eyes locked onto yours. "You're impossible."

"And you're an idiot. Stop thinking you're above everybody."

"For a kindergarten teacher, you sure are a nightmare."

"For an F1 driver, you sure are slow."

Lando opened his mouth and let out a sarcastic chuckle. And then, before you could process what was happening, his hands were on your face, and his lips crashed against yours.

You gasped, your body instinctively responding as his mouth moved against yours, rough and urgent. His hands cupped your face, pressing you back against your car as if he was trying to prove something.

And for a second, you let him. Because despite everything, it felt good. Too good.

But then, reality hit you like a truck. You shoved him away hard, breathing heavily. And before you could stop yourself, your hand flew up, slapping him across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the garage. Lando's head snapped to the side, his jaw tightening.

"You asshole." You spat, your heart pounding.

Lando exhaled sharply, his tongue running over his bottom lip. He didn’t say a word. He just stared at you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, without another word, you turned on your heel, stormed to your car, and pulled out of the garage, leaving him standing there.

You drove out of the garage like a maniac, the tires screeching against the pavement. Reckless. Impulsive. Exactly how Lando drove.

And then, out of nowhere, tears started spilling down your cheeks.

You didn't remember the last time you had cried, but now the sobs came fast and uncontrollable, a lump forming in your throat so tight it felt like you couldn't breathe. Your vision blurred, and your hands trembled against the wheel.

With shaking fingers, you pulled over and leaned your forehead against the steering wheel, trying to suppress the pain that had crept up without warning.

You couldn't believe. All of this for a selfish prick like Lando?

Lando had canceled his plans. He had barely made it through the elevator doors before frustration consumed him, his feet carrying him straight to his apartment. The moment he stepped inside, he let out a sharp exhale and dropped his keys onto the counter, running a hand through his curls.

His whole body was buzzing with anger, confusion and something else. Something he didn't want to name.

He didn't know why he had kissed you. No. That was a lie.

He knew. Deep down, he fucking knew. He had wanted to kiss you since the first day he saw you, since the moment he moved into the building. But now that feeling he had buried and denied, had come crashing back to life because of that stupid accidental kiss at the school.

Lando groaned, gripping his face as he collapsed onto the couch. "Fuckkk!!!" His voice echoed through the empty apartment. He tilted his head back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. "You don't like her, Lando!" He muttered to himself. "It's just a stupid… crush. Sexual tension. That's all it is." His jaw clenched. "She's never going to like you like that. She hates you."

But, don't you hate her back? A voice whispered at the back of his mind.

Lando swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. And for the first time, he admitted the truth. "I don't!"

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