On call
—-Warnings: poly relationship, CEO bf’s
—-Genre: lando Norris x reader x Oscar Piastri , CEO BF’s
—-Request: nope, maybe a part 2?
—- Masterlist
Summery: When a university networking event becomes overwhelming, she texts the only two people who never hesitate to come for her.
⸻
The event was supposed to be harmless.
That’s what she told herself while smoothing her dress in the mirror of the venue bathroom, breathing in slowly like Oscar had taught her. It wasn’t even their event—just a networking gala her department encouraged students to attend. Dress nice. Be polite. Shake hands. Smile.
She’d almost said no.
But Lando had kissed her forehead that morning and said, “You don’t have to stay long. Just go, show your face, then text us.”
So she did.
She always tried.
⸻
The room was too big.
Too loud.
Too shiny.
Everyone else looked confident in that stiff, practiced way—like they knew exactly where their hands were supposed to go, how loudly to laugh, how long to hold eye contact. She stood near a high table with a drink she didn’t really want, clutching her bag to her side.
She stuck out.
Not because she was underdressed—if anything, she looked too soft for the room. Hair neat. Nails done. Everything intentional in a way that didn’t match the sharp edges around her.
People noticed.
They always did.
“Oh—are you someone’s assistant?” a woman asked kindly, but not gently.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Intern?”
“No.”
The woman tilted her head. “Then…?”
She smiled politely. “Just a student.”
That earned a look—quick, curious, dismissive.
The whispers didn’t take long.
She looks expensive.
Why is she here?
Probably knows someone important.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
Lando: You good?
She stared at the screen for a moment before typing back.
it’s loud
Three dots appeared instantly.
Oscar: Want us to come get you?
Relief hit her chest so fast it almost hurt.
yes please
⸻
They arrived quietly.
No spectacle.
No scene.
She was standing near the exit by then, shoulders curled inward, bag clutched to her chest like armor. The moment she saw them through the glass—tailored coats, calm expressions, familiar silhouettes—her entire body loosened.
Oscar opened the door first.
“There you are,” he said softly, like she’d been lost instead of just overwhelmed.
Lando was already reaching for her bag. “You stayed longer than we said.”
She shrugged, voice small. “I tried.”
“That’s enough,” Lando said immediately.
They didn’t ask questions yet.
Oscar’s hand settled between her shoulder blades, guiding her outside and into the cool air. Lando held the door of the car open, waiting patiently until she was seated before closing it gently.
Only then did Oscar ask, “Did something happen?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Just felt… wrong.”
“That’s still something,” Oscar said calmly.
⸻
At home, the lights were low and the world was quiet again.
She slipped her shoes off and immediately padded into the living room, curling up on the couch like it was muscle memory. Oscar sat down first so she could tuck herself into his side, knees drawn up. Lando disappeared briefly and returned with a mug, setting it carefully into her hands.
“Drink,” he said gently.
She obeyed without thinking.
After a moment, she perked up slightly. “I took notes today.”
Oscar smiled. “You did?”
She nodded eagerly, already reaching for her bag. “I used the pen you gave me—the sparkly one.”
She pulled out her notebook like it was something sacred, flipping it open to show them neat handwriting, color-coded headings, tiny stars in the margins.
“I wrote really clearly,” she said, hopeful. “So I won’t forget.”
Oscar took it seriously, flipping through each page. “These are excellent,” he said honestly.
Lando leaned over his shoulder. “You even organized the sections.”
Her face lit up.
“They’re pretty,” she said softly. “I like looking at them.”
Oscar kissed the top of her head. “Then they did their job.”
⸻
Later, Lando spread a stack of printed reports across the coffee table—numbers, projections, things she didn’t fully understand but recognized as important.
“Sweetheart,” he said gently, “do you want to help us for a minute?”
She straightened immediately. “Yes.”
Oscar hid a smile.
Lando handed her a set of highlighters. “Same as always. Just the key points.”
She nodded seriously and slid down to the floor, sitting cross-legged by the table. She worked carefully, focused, occasionally pausing to double-check a section.
Oscar watched her with quiet fondness. “She’s better at this than half our team.”
“She listens,” Lando replied.
She glanced up. “Am I doing it right?”
Lando crouched beside her. “Perfect.”
That was all she needed.
⸻
By the time she finished, she was yawning.
Oscar gathered the papers, setting them aside neatly. “You did great.”
She leaned back against the couch, eyes heavy. “Can we stay in tonight?”
Lando smiled. “That was always the plan.”
She drifted off between them not long after, head resting against Oscar’s chest, fingers loosely holding onto the sleeve of Lando’s sweater.
They didn’t move.
They never rushed her.
Outside, the world could speculate all it wanted.
Inside, she was safe—
and cared for—
and exactly where she belonged.
⸻