#need landoscar to come home miss them so badly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leclerced · 28 days

Note

rehearsal crush + jelly = broken up

angst please ?

landoscar whose gf breaks up with them because she can’t handle the distance and they kinda are just like sick about it but oscar’s “if it’s meant to be it’ll be” attitude takes over lando too so they just don’t do anything about it and let her leave and it makes her even more upset that they didn’t TRY and fight for her

but happy ending

-🪼🪼🪼

jelly im so sorry ): if u wanna talk about it or rant, feel free to dm me 🫶🏻 im here for u if u need anything. i did Not Know how to end this im so sorry sjdkdmd im at work rn i hope this helps in some way ):

the only time it feels like she’s in a relationship is when they come to town between races. when they leave, she has to go back to real life and missing them. she hides it well, puts a smile on her face while she kisses them goodbye, then breaks down once they've walked out the door. there’s a weight on her chest that is only lifted when they’re around. they’ve never told her they feel the same, she thinks it’s because they still have each other so it’s not as bad. it makes her feel like she can’t tell them how badly she misses them, how crushing it is to see them go and know it’ll be a month until she sees them again.

she’s always been a physical person, she craves their touch more than anything. she misses the forehead kisses, having someone to hold hands with, a kiss and goodbye, i love you's when she's leaving for work. she wants to walk into a room and be able to crawl into her boyfriend's lap. to lay on oscar while she's binging her favorite shows. go on hikes with lando. it’s worse missing both of them. she misses waking up because oscar’s laying on top of her and lando’s asleep but still trying to pull her closer to him while oscar holds her in place underneath him, only to grumble and roll over so he’s on top of her too. she’d complain about the weight and the heat, but its so rare that she savors it. forces herself to stay awake as long as possible to relish in the feeling of them surrounding her. most of the time, she wakes up because she's cold and alone.

she feels pathetic when she gets jealous watching streams, she's envious of the press and drivers who see them every day. random people get to talk to her boyfriends more than she does. she's jealous of them every time they send her photos and videos together, whether it’s an innocent selfie or something meant to be watched alone and with headphones. she hates that it feels like she’s a girlfriend for one weekend a month and the rest of it, they’re boyfriends and she's someone they send a couple of texts to.

she starts thinking about breaking up when one of her friends gives her a hug and she breaks down because her shampoo smells like oscar’s and she wishes she could hug him. it's almost like hugging oscar, except she can't tuck her face into his neck and lean into him, his hands aren't pulling her closer, rubbing her back or petting her hair. there's no soft sigh as he rests his cheek on her head and no kiss on the top of her head when she pulls away. it feels like she's already been broken up with. like all the things she's missing, she's never going to experience again.

she tries to think about how it could work out. how they could see each other more. maybe they could all live together, and then there’d be less travel. if when they went home between races, she was home. she thinks about it, if she could pick up here life and move it. could she find another job in her field? what about her friends and family, here at home? would monaco feel like home when her boyfriends still aren't there most of the year? she'd lose what support system she has, have to build a new one. she would have to give up everything just to see them a few more times a year. she hasn't even been dating them for that long, not long enough to make plans for the future. they've been doing things a month at a time, planning dates where they can. she fell hard and fast, too fast now that she thinks about it. she shouldn't be contemplating flipping her life upside down just because of a boyfriend or two.

she doesn’t want to keep feeling like she’s drowning without them. she thinks she’ll get over them faster than she’ll be okay with missing them all the time. that in a few months, she could be over them and seeing someone new. someone who lives in her city, so she can see them regularly. have someone to text when she's lonely and have them come over and hold her. sure, it’s fun when they’re on break, and can spend all of their free time with her. when she can take off work to go on vacation with them. but it’s not so fun when she’s spending every night wishing they were back in bed with her, counting down the days until they would be. it takes her a week to draft the text in her notes. editing it every day, sending it to her closest friends to check.

i'm really sorry, but i can't do this anymore. the distance is too much, it doesn't feel like i'm in a relationship when you're always across the world on a different time zone. i can count the words we've spoken this week, and it's not even like, real talking. we had a few texts. good morning, good night, i love you. i need more than that. i shouldn't be doing this over text, i know, and i'm sorry for that, but there's no other way to do it. it's easier this way.

she tried adding more, explaining why, the hurt she feels. how she's thrown up from missing them, cried herself to sleep, she couldn't put it into words without feeling like she was trying to hurt them. she reads it back to herself and imagines oscar or lando sending her the same text and nearly throws up. deletes all the rough bits so they won't imagine her keeling over the toilet every morning, crying to her friends, crying alone in bed clutching a hoodie lando left behind. it feels unemotional after that. she can't even type out the words, to say i'm breaking up with you. to say goodbye.

lando sees the text first. he always reaches for his phone first thing in the morning, their groupchat is almost always still open when he unlocks it. he always sends a sweet message for their girl to wake up to or see the next time she checks her phone, if she's up already. this time, there's a text waiting. his hands start shaking instantly, he forgets how to breathe, everything hurts in a way he didn't know it could.

she sent it in the groupchat, an hour after their goodnight, i love you's. he shakes oscar awake after reading it two or three times, not believing the words are real until he's closed the app and reopened it only to see it's still there. he doesn't know what to do, what to think, what to say. it's been hours since she sent the text. it feels too late to respond, like it's done. oscar's confused and disoriented, he's never woken up like this before. lando's shaking him and crying and blubbering at him when he starts regaining consciousness. he thinks someone died. he can't understand lando's gasping, "she- fuck, oscar- i don't know what to do- oscar- what do we do?" he's acting like oscar should already know what he's talking about.

he sits up and grabs lando's cheeks in his hands, "breathe. calm down. what are you going on about?" a phone is pressed into his chest, a corner of it hits his sternum and he winces as he drops a hand to take it. it's lando's, unlocked with their group chat open. he reads the text with a blank face before collapsing back on the bed. bad dream. this is a nightmare. this isn't real. he pinches himself again and again. squeezes his eyes shut and reopens them, holds the phone in front of his face and the text is still there. he can't bring himself to check his own phone and read it there. it remains unread, unready to face the realization.

lando chokes out a sob next to him and collapses on top of him, "'s too late, osc. it's too late. we can't do anything- she's so far away. osc, i-i can't- i don't know what to do- please oscar." he clenches his jaw, tells himself he can't break down, lando needs him to be strong. he drops the phone, rather, throws it to a far corner of the bed, and wraps both arms around lando. "it'll be okay, i promise. if it's meant to be, it'll be." lando whines at his words, says something into his chest that oscar can't make out. he just squeezes lando tighter and pushes down the urge to scream, to break something. to book a flight and fly across the world and beg her not to do this.

it's already done. the text is too articulated. she planned this out. it wasn't one bad night. it was a string of bad nights, that she never told them about. they can't help her if she won't tell them something is wrong, if they don't know she needs help. he doesn't know if he believes his own words. he thinks it's meant to be, but he doesn't know how. he thinks about the stupid saying, if you love something, let it go. if it comes back to you, it's yours forever. if it doesn't, it was never meant to be. it keeps him from texting back and begging for her. she'll come back when she's ready. maybe if he doesn't respond, she'll take it back.

she expects them to fight for her. realistically, she knows she waited until they went to sleep, but still. maybe they couldn't fall asleep, they'd see it and talk her down instantly. she expects them to wake up and text back, begging her not to do this. offer to visit more, to fly her out more. to do anything to close the distance. she lets herself delude herself into thinking maybe they aren't responding because they took the first flight out to see her. the entire day, she waits for her phone to beep at her or to hear a knock on her door, but there's nothing.

she makes the mistake of checking a live broadcast the next day, media day. they look fine. no bags under their eyes, no tear splotchy cheeks. it could be makeup, but they laugh and joke with each other and other drivers. she tells herself it’s the right decision. they aren't even upset about it. they're just going about their days. part of her she wishes she could take it back. she wishes she didn't know this is how they felt, that she really was just a quick fuck between races. they couldn't even be bothered to respond and say, hey! it was fun while it lasted. she doesn't let herself watch anymore after that and deletes every app so she won't have to see the mclaren content her algorithms are so used to pumping her feed with.

in the days after, she feels lied to. like all of these months was nothing, every night they flew in to see her was just because they wanted something else to fuck. her friends tell her it's not true, that they're probably just being respectful and giving her space. one of them says if she'd gotten that text, she wouldn't have replied either. she knows she wouldn't either when she rereads it to herself. she wants to ask, why didn't any of you tell me not to send it? why were they all so supportive of me blowing up my relationship?

after a few weeks of thinking like that, she breaks and looks at the championship rankings, looks at their scores for the last races. she feels a pang in her stomach when they're not having a great season, sometimes finishing in the points but not getting into the top five in any race since. she gets curious, wonders if it's the car or the driver. makes the mistake of watching post race interviews and hearing them talk about how the car was doing great but they couldn't get the full potential out of it. lando's beating himself up too much about it, oscar's giving him sad looks constantly. maybe it is bothering them and they're just showing it differently. she bans herself from checking again. it's none of her business. they're not her boyfriends anymore.

she comes to realize she didn't mind the distance. she misses the few texts they shared, misses watching races and cheering on her boys. the short phone calls after where she congratulates them. waiting around until they made it back to their hotel even if it meant she would only get a few hours of sleep before work. she misses them coming in once a month to see her.

she feels stupid for not telling them how she felt sooner. she wishes she'd worded the text differently, that she'd told them how she felt and they listened and helped. she thinks about reaching out, to apologize, to say she wasn't thinking right, ask for another chance. she doesn't deserve one.

summer break rolls around and though she's still sad about it, she's not crying anymore. she's given up any idea of ever seeing them again and resigns herself to telling her grandkids about the time she dated two racecar drivers. she's just cleaned and rearranged her entire apartment to make herself feel something. the living room is flipped around, she bought a new tv stand and some new pictures to hang. got some funky lamps for mood lighting. she redoes her bedroom too, gets a new bedroom set at an antique sale and pays the seller's sons to move it because she doesn't have a truck. they even help carry out her old furniture and set up the new. even the dining room is redone, a friend got a new dining table and she swapped her friend's old one out for her own. it didn't fit anything else in her apartment and she'd had it since college, it was time to go.

she's almost feeling good. it's a little weird walking into her apartment and feeling like she walked into the wrong one, but in a good way. it feels like a fresh start in a way. she doesn't walk in and imagine lando and oscar on her sofa because the tv is in the place they used to sit. they've never been in her "new" bedroom, never sat on the new mattress she ordered. never showered under her new showerhead. she hid all of their gifts and the things they'd left behind in a box in her guest room closet, so the reminders of them are gone.

they're gone, until she wakes up to banging on her door in the middle of the night. she thinks someone is breaking in at first, when the banging stops suddenly. the silence is deafening, she's waiting to hear someone trying to open it, pick the lock or break a window to get in. instead, her phone buzzes on her night stand. she picks it up and feels her stomach drop.

oscar: i'm sorry it's late. i hope you haven't moved, because i've been banging on your door for five minutes.

why is he here? is lando here too? where is he? why isn't he here? what's happening? what do i do? a million questions run through her head at once and she freezes up. she thinks about pretending to be asleep. that she moved, that the knocking didn't wake her and she never saw the text. maybe she changed her number and moved. she could pretend. it would be easier, probably.

she thinks about it for too long, then realizes oscar's probably left. the text was sent six minutes ago. the thought sends her into a panic. she can't lose him again. she slips in her rush to get out of bed, curses herself for not buying a new rug to match her new bedding yet when her socks hit slippery hard wood floors and she slips, barely catching herself on the bed. she scrambles out of her bedroom, down the hall, barly skidding to a stop before she fumbles for the deadbolt and swings the door open.

he's still there. hands stuffed in his pocket, hair mussed from travel, probably. she can see his adams apple bob when he swallows and they both freeze, like they're on stage and both forgot their lines. she can smell his cologne and it makes her dizzy. it's like walking by a display in a store and knowing you smelled that smell on your third grade field trip to the local science museum. it's been so long that it feels foreign but you can place it exactly. they both stand there, staring, like they can't believe they're really seeing each other.

he opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. he lets out a sigh, "can i come in?"

she blinks, twice, before stepping aside and nodding. she watches his face as he steps inside and looks around. he takes his time taking everything in, his eyes scanning through the archway into the living room. she left her lamps on, so the room is lit by hot pink in one corner, lime green in the next, and blue in the next. it lights his face up in a pretty way, like the lights at the track do, or in a club. she's not sure what to do, so she offers a drink to give herself something to do. "cocoa?" the word feels weird in her mouth. it's only two syllables but her tongue feels thick and even that is hard. he doesn't look at her or say anything, just gives a nod. his hair flutters and she longs to run her hands through it. he does it, pushing the hair off his forehead. it makes her want to do it even more.

she side steps him and is grateful when she doesn't hear his footsteps follow her into the kitchen. would you blame her if she took as long as possible to make the drinks? she could do it faster. she's mastered the art of making hot chocolate every way possible. she has the powder mix for when she's lazy, and knows how to make it taste just as rich as the real thing. she also has expensive chocolate that will take longer to melt down than a powder will take to stir into milk. it's been her guilty pleasure since she broke things off, it feels chopping it up to give to oscar. it helped her though, so maybe it'll help now.

she wonders what he's doing, if he's still standing there or if he moved. if he sat on the couch in it's new spot, or if he's looking at the new wall hangings. if he can hear her chopping on the cutting board, setting things on the stove, getting the mugs out. she wonders if he's grateful for the time to think, too. she needs it considering she didn't know he was showing up. she didn't have time to prepare, but that's better, she would have overthought everything. she runs her fingers through her hair a few times to comb out any tangles and splashes some water on her face to clear her head a bit.

she's going to make the best hot chocolate he's ever had. she's going to put more effort into this mug of hot chocolate than any other. she believes melting the chocolate before adding it to the milk makes it better, so she sets up a double boiler on one burner and milk on another to melt the chocolate while the milk warms. once the chocolate is silky smooth and the milk is at an even 180 degrees, she mixes them. she takes her time whisking it together, occasionally swiping a finger across the whisk to taste it.

she's just biding her time. she chose what she's pretty sure is oscar's favorite mug, an orange one with a kangaroo inside. she bought it at a thrift store long before they met. when you finish your drink, there's a sculpted kangaroo sitting inside, like a little surprise. she likes serving people drinks in it and seeing their confusion, thinking something is in their drink before she says it's part of the mug. they finish their drink and coo at what's inside. oscar's reaction was her favorite; he asked where she got it and said he had to have one. she had no clue where it was from and offered it to him on the spot, and he sheepishly shook his head, "no, just use it when 'm here."

she hid it at the back of the cabinet, every morning she'd reach for it out of habit then get sad when she remembered oscar liked it. hiding it meant she didn't reach for it and get sad. tonight, she had to push all her other mugs out of the way and check it for dust so oscar could use it. at one point, she wished he'd taken it so she wouldn't have to see the reminder. now, she's glad she still has it so she has some common ground to latch onto.

she finds him in the living room, tucked into end corner of the couch, right next to the pink light. "sorry it took so long, i used the good chocolate." she mutters as she offers him the mug and sits in the middle of the couch, a safe distance away. she sets her own mug down on the table, a light blue one with a duck on the outside. she wants to crawl into his lap, say she's sorry, she's so happy to see him. that's not her place anymore, and she doesn't know why he's here. maybe he just wants their hoodies back.

he stares at the mug, wraps both his hands around it and she wishes he'd set it down and tuck his hands under her shirt to warm them like she used to. she can't read his expression when he counters, "i would have taken swiss miss." she doesn't know how to take that. is he saying she shouldn't have put in the effort, or he would be happy with anything she gives him?

she quirks a smile, "i thought you deserved the good stuff."

he hums, and lifts the mug up, "will i burn my mouth if i try to drink this now?" she blinks. he trusts her not to hurt him.

"i wouldn't. i just took it off the burner, i bet you'd see steam if the marshmallows weren't blocking it." his lips turn up in the smallest smile for just a moment and he sets it down next to hers. she keeps her eyes on the mugs as he sits back and suddenly shifts the conversation, "i'm sorry for just showing up. i was going to text but i was scared you would tell me not to."

she tries not to make a face but she winces. "you have nothing to apologize for, you haven't done anything wrong. and for what it's worth, i'm glad you showed up." she hopes it’s the right thing to say. she isn’t sure why she’s here and she doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

there's a soft touch on her arm and she almost flinches before she remember it's just oscar. his voice is soft just as soft as his touch, "you haven't either." his hand curls around her bicep and he tugs lightly. she immediately scoots closer and he pulls her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “we should have reached out, should have shown up sooner. there's not-" he lets out a sigh, she feels him shift her and he squeezes her softly. “the distance, it's hard. we've been doing this a long time, we're used to not seeing our family more than one week a year. you haven't had that, never done this before. you don't know how to deal with it, but if you don't tell us you're struggling, we can't help."

he squeezes her shoulder and she leans into him, "i know. i just- it didn't feel like it would do any good. not like i could text you and you'd be here in an hour."

he shakes his head in the corner of her eye and grumbles, "no, but we would have found time to call you, found a way to come see you sooner. hell, if you could get off work we'd fly you out. fuck, that's not even the problem. why didn't you feel like you could tell us how you were feeling?"

there's a burning sensation that signals tears are coming, and her throat is tightening. she pushes the tears back and forces the words out, "i was scared, that i was the only one feeling like this. you have each other, why would you miss me? i don't have anyone."

oscar lets out a weak sound and pulls her closer, not close enough for her. she wants to be pressed against him in every way. "i'm sorry we made you feel that way. we have each other, yeah, but half the time, all we do is talk about you. missing you. i made lando buy the same shampoo so he’d smell like you. practically had to wash my drool out of his hair every morning.” as if for emphasis, he presses his cheek to her head and sniffs. “could pick you out from a blind test.”

she can't help the breathy laugh that escapes her, "really? you missed me that much? why didn't you tell me?"

oscar nods, "i didn't know you needed to hear it. i thought we were fine. i don't know if there were signs we missed or maybe, you kept it to yourself. it's not an excuse, but we're used to missing people, we can't change that, so we look forward to the next time we see you. sometimes, we're so busy, we don't have time to think about how much it hurts.”

she huffs, "i had too much time to think about how much it hurts."

oscar squeezes her to his side again, then huffs, "take a hint would you? get closer."

her heart thuds in her chest, "closer?"

he laughs a little, the air hits her cheek. "yes, closer. been trying to hold you, but you won't move."

immediately, she throws herself onto his lap, wedging a leg between his and the arm of her sofa so she can straddle him. it feels so good just to have someone close, and oscar feels like coming home. his cologne is the same, she can tell it’s been hours since he applied it, likely just before shoving it in his suitcase, but it lingers on him. he smells a bit like the airport, too, and she wonders how long it took him to get here. where he flew from, when he booked the ticket. it doesn’t really matter.

he’s filled out more through the season, his body is hard under her and she can’t tell if he’s tense or if it’s just hard muscle from lots of training. “i’m really sorry you were hurting. do you think, we could try this again? could you tell us, before it gets too much?”

she curls a hand around his bicep and sighs, "yes, god, i missed you so much. i'm really sorry, i should have said something. i- i would have taken it back, if you had said something, neither of you reached out. i didn't think you wanted me to.”

she can feel the rumbling in his chest against hers when he replies, it tingles her cheek where it’s pressed against his throat. "we didn't think you wanted us to. it felt planned out, i figured you wanted space. i thought you’d come to us when you were ready. lando tried to- i stopped him.” her heart almost shatters. she squeezes her eyes shut and forces back the tears. she can’t cry on him right now. “i was scared too, didn’t want him to find out he was blocked or something. i couldn’t- i didn’t know what to do. i didn’t want him to get hurt again.”

"space is the last thing i wanted." she whispers against his neck. at the mention of him hurting, her stomach twists into tight knots. she'd assumed they were fine. "is lando okay? why isn't he here?"

oscar stiffens under for, just for a moment, before relaxing, "yeah, he'll be okay, if we're gonna be okay. he’s in a hotel, didn't think you'd want to see him. didn't want to face the rejection."

a whimper slips out, "i didn't mean to make him feel like that. all i want is to see him. i should have said something sooner, before it was too much. i'm sorry."

oscar rubs her back softly, and, “we’re sorry too. we’ll do better this time, find more time to see you. reach out more. you gotta do the same, though. and let us know when you need us to be there for you.”

she nods against him, “i promise, i will. can you-“

“we’ll do the same. i’ll text you when i make lando wash his hair with your shampoo, and when i wake up because he’s talking in his sleep and he’s dreaming about you. make lando text you too. he’ll probably complain that i sleep on him when he smells like you and he prefers being the big spoon.”

she lets out a breath of air, almost a laugh but not quite, “i was gonna say, can you call lando? thank you for that though, it means a lot.”

oscar presses his face into her hair, mumbling, “you could call him, y’know? he’d probably love that.”

#ask #🪼 anon #tbh would have done more but i dont have time 😭#sorrrryyy baby #ln4/op81 #hope this is ok #havent fully proof read it n i skipped around a lot so sry for typos or anything confusing i didn’t rly edit

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