🐚 K. she/her. indian. a pharmacy student. f1 and football fan – primarily a mclaren and barça supporter. kpop, kdrama, south asian media diehard.
currently watching: one piece, not suitable for work
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pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader, andrea kimi antonelli x gf!fem!reader
summary: kimi has everything oscar has ever wanted. and oscar knows kimi doesn’t deserve any of it. not the praise. not the wins. and especially not you. so when the envy becomes too much, oscar decides he’ll take it all from him. every single last thing that makes kimi happy. even if that means taking you.
warnings: fluff, LOTS of angst, jealousy, established relationship, very innocent and slightly dumb reader, technically infidelity, toxic childhood!bf!kimi, gaslighting, arguing, yelling, manipulation, possessiveness, kimi disrespects reader a lot, kinda cunning!oscar?, 18+ (minors dni), teasing, p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, public sex, voyeurism, handjob, poor humour // poorly proof read as usual
word count: 12.3k
a/n: based on this request! first piece of my 6000 follower celebration!!! letting you know you may be triggered at many points of this fic and that's okay! 😬
Oscar Piastri had never really let anyone get under his skin. Early in life, he had learned the art of calm and composure. Underreaction had always been the silent winner. No one ever got to him. Nothing really pissed him off. He treated people fairly. He always thought that if he went by the books, one day he'd reap the rewards.
But very quickly into his Formula One career; he had learned that was not the truth. And nor was he as calm as he once thought he was.
In the very same time frame Osar was supposed to be receiving praise and getting race wins, came Kimi Antonelli. The monster rookie. The new Verstappen who replaced the Sir Lewis Hamilton's seat.
It wasn't like Oscar hadn't heard of him. He had always heard of him down the line. The kid in the Mercedes' junior line up. A racing prodigy. A sweet guy with all the Italian charm. When he heard Kimi was racing in F2, skipping the previous level, he had even thought of extending his hand. Sure, you couldn't be friends with everyone on track. But it didn't hurt to try.
But Oscar was sorely mistaken.
The ego-boosting headlines and the compliments had gotten to Kimi. He walked, no—he strode with pride. Innocent brown eyes filled with a disgusting shade of smugness that no driver could fathom. His lips in a constant curved smirk. Complaints and complaints on the tip of his tongue when nothing went his way. The coy downplay of his achievements at such as young eage. How easily he manipulated Toto and Susie to get what he wanted.
It was different kind of art. A sick, satrical version of it. How easy the Italian charm had faded away.
And always by his side was you. Kimi's pride and joy. His girlfriend of three years, always wrapped around his arm.
You... You were the worst part of it all.
Oscar had seen you like everyone else had. You were simply gorgeous. Oscar could never forget how slowly his head had turned when you had first entered the paddock. The double take he had taken along with everyone else, watching your every move.
Everything about you seemed perfect.
Your sparkly wide eyes. Pretty painted lips. Soft, boisterous laugh. Perfectly styled hair. Perfume that made all in your trail dizzy. You talked with your heart rather than your mind. You were a good person. Pure. Whole. Anyone could see that from a mile away.
It was then when Oscar had locked eyes with Kimi, spotting that smirk on his stupid face and that evil glint in those brown eyes. A look of acknowlegement. Yes. It was you next to him. Not next to Oscar. Not next to anyone else.
Oscar would never forget that very moment where Kimi's head had leaned down just a little, lips gliding over your ear to whisper something that made you laugh while his hand creeped down your waist, to your lower back and right over your ass. Fingers slightly while as he groped you shamelessly. And not a second later, his lips were on yours, kissing you deeply and messily, tongue out without any hurry. Like there weren't any cameras on him.
He remembered your flushed cheeks while you kissed Kimi back. Eyes a little wide with disbelief but still you had kissed him anyways, smile apparent on your face. Small hands reaching for his sleeves to brace yourself.
Then there was that mix of disgust and anger that rushed through Oscar's body. He genuinely couldn't believe it. How could anyone dating you treat you like that in public? Like you were a plaything. A trophy.
And that's how it had gone on for months. That superiority Kimi welded with you by his side. Making you sit on his lap at dinners, hands travelling carelessly under the short skirts and dresses he had gotten you. Interrupting interviews just to go and kiss you on the camera. Letting those videos of you and him in the nightclub get posted where you danced together.
And while it seemed like things were all sunshines and rainbows for the both of you, Oscar could see the truth for what it was. Kimi had no respect for you. In fact, he was horrible to you.
Because behind Kimi's handsy fingers and clingy mouth were the arguments in the quiet parts of the paddock. The ones where he would make your pretty eyes cry and then pretended to kiss them better. Where he constantly made you question yourself and belittled you in front of others. Then he'd let your eyes light up with the fake promises of a future together. He didn't really let you talk to anyone either unless it made him look good.
And you had no idea. Simply believing him with your heart. The epitome of 'love makes you blind.'
You were like an innocent lamb in the dirty hands of Kimi's.
It had gotten worse this season.
The consistent wins and praise had made Kimi delirious. If he was careless before, he had not a single inch of it in him any longer. With the whispers of a Championship-winning car and a talent one people wouldn't see for years, he was driven by the foundation of immature confidence.
Perhaps that's why Oscar had heard what he had heard in China. Seen what he had seen.
It was Lando, Oscar, and George conversing between the Mercedes and McLaren garages. Talking about the cars and whatnot while the paddock had finally become quiet after the race. Some teams were still in their debriefs, some packing up. The sun threatening to settle, orange mixed lightly into the air.
The conversation was coming to a swift end, Lando and George citing how they needed to grab their things from their hotel before they all met for the private flight back to Monaco. The two of them had barely walked away before Oscar had heard it.
A deep mewl in the air.
Oscar blinked, brows furrowed as he turned towards the Mercedes' garage. He couldn't see anyone nearby. The place empty with a majority of the team still in another debrief. He would've taken a step back and joined Lando but then he had heard it again.
"Oh fuck!"
Call it curiosity. But Oscar's legs seemed to move on their own, defying the rules of non-personnel entering the garage while he quietly walked onto enemy territory. It didn't take him long to navigate, the ins and outs similar to any other garage. The sounds became louder and louder with every step he took. Yet he couldn't quite discern them.
But when he did, it made his feet stop and his blood freeze.
He stood outside of Kimi's driver's room. It not just any sound coming into the air. It's yours. Hands imprinting onto the blurred iced-glass door, your shadowed figure could barely be made out. Your moans travelled through the glass with bare deviation from the lewd, deep slaps of skin echoing around what felt like his skull.
"Louder, belle. Let them hear who makes you feel this good," Kimi grunted shamelessly. "God, you're so pathetic. This turned on when anyone can hear you. You make a good whore, don't you?"
His chuckle was deep and mocking. And yet, your trembling moans merged into the air.
Oscar could hear it. Your sharp pants. Desperate and needy. "More," you begged. "Deeper."
Oscar blinked, breathing in deeply while he took a shaky step back. Fuck, this was so wrong. He could barely think with your sweet sounds tainted by Kimi's disgusting insults. It felt like he was watching a crime being committed.
The struggle grounded him for a few moments. Not willing to move. But the idea of you reaching any sort of end with Kimi made a thin layer of bile crawl up Oscar's throat. So he moved before he could hear it, feet quick and light.
He was sweating by the time he reached the McLaren suite, mind haywired, breath erratic while he tried to block out those sounds. That was a mistake, right? Something he had come across on pure accident. Yes. That was it. Kimi wasn't so vain that he'd just put you out there for anyone to listen to. That was an accident.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
But by the time Oscar had reached the private jet, he had once again been proven wrong. He was there, backpack slung across his back and suitcase rolling next to him as he arrived to find Lando and George waiting near the stairs of the plane.
Oscar raised a brow. "What are you guys waiting for? Shouldn't you be onboard?" He queried.
"I..." Lando said wordlessly, awkwardly looking over at George who looked slightly paler than usual. Neither of them could bring it up. The mere idea too shameful.
"What?" Oscar pressed, sighing when no response was given. He moved forward, pushing past them to get up the stairs. By the time he was through the door, it had become evident as to why those two were waiting outside.
"Oh fuck. That's it," Kimi's voice flew from the bathroom down the aisle.
Oscar's fingers instantly tightened around his suitcase. His stomach churned with disgust as his brain familiarised itself with the situation once again. The sounds of you against one another was far less muted this time. Your whimpers curling around Oscar's ears.
He couldn't tell what was worse. The fact that the plane hadn't even gotten off the ground yet or the fact Oscar wasn't the only one subjected to this. His coworkers down below. The staff of the plane awkwardly trying to resume their job. All while Kimi was burning your dignity to the floor.
"You gonna cum for me, belle? Yeah?"
Oscar's breath quickened as Kimi's voice tightened.
"Tell me, baby. Who makes you feel this good?"
Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, annoyance simmering in his blood.
"You. You do, Kimi," you sobbed, gasp heavenly with every push forward harsher than before. "Kimi, Kimi—I'm going to—"
A smug moan fell from his lips. "I know, I know. Everyone's going to know how good I make you feel, belle."
Oscar regretted staying this time. He should've left the moment he had realised. He shouldn't have stayed to hear the sinful draw out of your voice nor the useless wavering grunt of Kimi's. Then he wouldn't of seen Kimi coming out of the bathroom, still shifting his pants on tighter, adjusting his zip with you following behind him, red in the face.
Kimi breathed with a drop of sweat worked up on his brow. "Hey, Oscar," he greeted, tugging at his shirt without a inch of shame in the world. He looked past him, spotting the emptiness in the jet. "Are Lando and George still waiting? I'll go them, yeah? Takeoff's soon."
Oscar's lips curled in disgust as Kimi walked past him, shoulder bustling into his before Kimi's hand, still covered in the musk of sex, patted him. His brown eyes flickered to yours, now seated with the imprints of Kimi all over you. Purple on your neck, hands on your bare thigh, poorly hidden beneath your skirt. You were tainted with Kimi. He swallowed, meeting your flustered gaze.
You gave him a timid wave. "Hi, Oscar."
Oscar's breath caught. He was sure that was the first time he had heard his name fall from your lips. He enjoyed the way it rolled of your tongue. It sounded much better than Kimi's. He gave you a hesitant nod of acnknowledgement. He couldn't peel his eyes away from the shame beneath your kind expression. He could feel the judgement pouring from the staff in the cabin. Remember the awkward look on Lando and George's faces. And it was all because of Kimi.
Oscar hated Kimi. He hated that Kimi had everything he ever wanted. An easy fight for a title. The potential to win more races than he ever had in his rookie years. And you. He had you.
Oscar was going to beat Kimi. One way or another, he was going to beat the stupid smug smirk off that Italian face. He would take everything that he had away from him. Even if that something was you.
It was a brief glimpse Oscar had gotten from you. But that was all he needed to stop in his tracks. The sight of you in tears, cheeks flushed, and hidden in behind some corner of the Mercedes' suite. No. That just wouldn't do.
You sniffled, tip of your nose red as Oscar placed down a cup of freshly steamed hot chocolate and sat across you. With a tight, thankful smile, you held the burning cup between your fingers.
"A-Are you sure its okay for me to be here?" You asked, eyeing the unfamiliar shades of papaya around you.
Oscar watched you quietly, nodding unconsciously. He blinked as your eyes drifted to his. The tips of ears reddened as he had been caught. He cleared his throat, nodding more definitely. "Of course, it is. I couldn't possibly have just left you like that."
You swallowed tightly, cheeks pouring with heat once again as you thought about how Oscar had found you just sobbing away. The concern in his eyes had been surprising. You had never seen anything like it before. A part of you wished you had. In a different pair of brown eyes.
Oscar pursed his lips at the silence brewing in the air. He sucked in a sharp breath, leaning forward. "I know it's not my place but... is it Kimi?"
You looked down at the mention of your boyfriend before smiling much to Oscar's surprise. "It was my fault really. I made a mistake. I just thought..."
He raised a brow. "You thought?"
You chuckled softly, blinking through your sore eyes. "It sounds crazy now that I think about it. I thought he was cheating," you laughed a little deeper, sighing as you shook your head in disbelief. "There was the girl and— well. He was right. I was overreacting. I just really thought..."
The ache in Oscar's chest was unwelcome as your voice grew small and strained. He blinked at your sudden smile yet again. "I was stupid, wasn't I?" You sighed, taking a sip of your hot chocolate.
"No, you weren't."
Your eyes flew to Oscar, wide. Your heart thudded in your chest, fear growing like diseased vines. What did he mean by that?
"It's not stupid to ask questions. That's the least you deserve. It's your right," Oscar murmured gently, fingers curling to move the loose tresses in front of your face but stuck at his side.
You pulled your brows together. That's not what Kimi told you. He always said questions weren't important. Useless, really. That only stupid people ask and answer. That's why he acted the way he did in interviews—disruptive and indifferent. But what you were hearing now...
You tilted your head, curiosity swarming through your brain. "Can I ask you questions then?"
A gentle smile sprawled onto Oscar's face as he leaned back in his seat. "You can ask me anything you want, sweetheart."
He watched you hum almost silently. Like you were thinking of all the new options you could explore. And for a split second, he saw it. That sliver of excitement swirling in your eyes. The expanse of your pupils. And it made his breath catch.
"Do you believe in aliens?"
Amusement coursed through his veins. There was something so mundane about the question. Out of all the things you could have asked... But he pushed down the quirk of his lips. "In a world of unexplained things, I think there's room for aliens."
Your brows pulled again, doe-eyes looking at him for a second. Maybe a second too long. Long enough for Oscar's heart to test new unhealthy rthyhms. "That's the most media trained answer you could've given. Nice job."
Oscar blinked at your response, brown eyes watching you stand as you looked at the digital clock that counted sixty minutes to the start of the first free practice. Sixty minutes that required you to be near Kimi. He breathed slowly upon your small smile beaming.
"Thank you for... well, just thank you," you mumbled, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly. You turned on your heel before pausing, head tilting back to the brown eyes still on you. "Question. Do my eyes look puffy?"
Oscar could've remained seated and told you from where he sat. But he stood, taking those few closer steps near you. The world seemed to slow as he leaned in, inspecting your face from a careful distance. Or the lack of. It was silent for a brief moment. "No," he decided.
You swallowed, releasing the breath you had unintentionally been holding. You smiled lightly. "Good. Kimi doesn't like it when they are," you chuckled. "Okay. Bye, Oscar."
Oscar pressed his lips together, biting down the distaste lingering on his tongue as he bidded you goodbye. His turmoil seemed to linger even when you were gone. Every time he thought he couldn't hate Kimi anymore, you gave him one more reason to do so.
The crowd roared as usual. A fundamental noise that your ears had become used to as you stood beneath the podium and metres away from the finishing cars. It was Silverstone. Classical and traditional. Every driver's dream race to win. And Kimi had done it.
You stood between the neverending Mercedes' team, dolled in Kimi's jacket waiting for for him as he did his final few victory laps around the circuit, basking in the cheers and exclaims pouring from the stadium. Yet, he wasn't the first driver you saw. It was Oscar, cladded in papaya, and the claimer of P2. You watched him down the line, greeting his team. And for a moment, you expected him to sweep right past you.
But someone at Mercedes knew him a little better, pulling him aside with a handshake. And then those brown eyes flickered to you and over the teal and black clinging to your shoulder with an emotion unfamiliar to you. But a smile graced his face nevertheless. Boyish as usual, you noticed.
You returned the gesture. "Congrats on second," you said loudly, hands curling over the barricade.
"Thank you," Oscar breathed, hand dishevelling his sweat-ridden brown locks, lines of his balaclava etched into his slightly reddened face. “If only I had one more lap," he sighed tiredly, reminiscing the hundredths between his and Kimi's finishing times.
You pressed your lips together, smile hanging awkwardly. "Next time. I'm sure of it," you nodded astutely, brows pulled with firm belief.
A chuckle fell from his lips. Cute. His head tipped in agreement. "Yeah. Next time," he mumbled. He took a quick breath in. "I was wond—"
Oscar's words were quelled as the supporting shouts grew louder with Kimi's pull into parc fermé. You both silently watched him remove his steering wheel, topping the his car with his fists in the air triumphantly. His small jump off was smooth after every recent win. You felt his head glide towards you while he inched closer to the weighing scale. Nothing decipherable about those eyes behind the helmet.
Kimi didn't waste a second. Helmet and balacava off. Sponsor watch on. Marching towards the crowd of teal and black. Marching towards you. Aware of every lens following his every move. His stagnant gaze on you purposeful. Gait with a force so casual yet demanding.
Forceful enough for Oscar to take a step back as he watched Kimi's hand, the very one with the sponsor watch, fall to your face and bring his lips to yours. The grandstands and pools of fans around cheer as expected. The cameras zoom in hungrily, too blinded to see the quirk of Kimi's lips. Instead disguised as the loving boyfriend depicted across fanpages and headlines.
But Oscar could see it. He stood behind Kimi, jaw locked, teeth clenching so tightly the pain swells in his gums. He hadn't realised it until Sophie, his press officer, put her hand on his arm to attend the trackside interview, grounding him back to reality. He swallowed tightly, taking a slow breath in and out before turning on his heel, fingers curled tightly at his side.
With every step closer to the cameras and the waiting interviewer, Oscar couldn't shake the image of you two out of his head. This was the very same guy who had sent you crying just a few weeks ago, leaving Oscar to pick up the pieces. Who had the sheer audacity to make you feel like shit just for doubting him.
What a fucking asshole.
Monaco was not home for Oscar. It would never be. Nowhere near as comfortable and easy as Australia was. He preferred the scorching heats and casualness of the people around him. Not the sports cars or luxury yachts collecting dust on the Monégasque waters. This was well and truly just a perk of his job. Nothing more, nothing less.
But just when Oscar couldn't find anything happy about it, a walk outside to get his groceries left him finding you nearby, eyes glued to the clothing store nearby.
You blinked at the call of your name, tearing your eyes away to find a familiar mop of brown hair. The smile on your face was instant. You waved in a way that made his cheeks tighten. "What are you doing here?"
Oscar breathed in, looking around the streets he had become used to, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. "Uh, I was going to get some groceries. How about you? Not in Italy. Well, obviously," he chuckled awkwardly.
Christ... was he always such a loser?
You grinned, nodding in agreement. "Kimi finally moved in so I came to help. Now... I'm shopping," you said, lifting your arm with the few shopping bags you had collected so far.
He suppressed his frown at the mention of Kimi's name. "So I guess I'll be seeing you around more often?" He queried, brows raised with hope.
"Yeah. I mean maybe. This place is a lot," you laughed softly, eyes tracing over the endless cars, stores, and yachts. This was definitely not Bologna or even Milan. Monaco was a in a league of its own.
Oscar nodded. "It's overwhelming at first," he agreed, swallowing tightly as a new thought popped into his mind. "I mean, if you don't mind, I could be your guide when you're here. You can give me your number. Call me when you're around."
You mulled over his offer, surprise light but evident on your face. You never really gave your number to anyone. Especially not any of the drivers—Kimi's rule. But Oscar was just being nice. It would probably be good too. That way you didn't have to bother Kimi.
"Sure," you said, hand reaching out to grab your phone. "Give yourself a miss call."
Oscar's eyes lit up, faint smile on his face as he punched in his number into your phone, letting the call linger briefly. Satisfied, he saved his name into your phone. Oscar :)
"Perfect," you breathed, eyes crinkling with a thankful glint as you pocketed your phone. "I'll let you get back to it then. I still have a few more places I wanna see."
Oscar tried not to let his disappointment show. You just got here. "If you wanted some company... I'm happy to join," he shrugged, hoping that was as casual as it was in his head.
Your eyes widened slightly. "Really?"
"Yeah, sure. I know a few places too," he nodded, unable to understand your shock. As if Kimi never joined you—oh who was he kidding? Of course that asshole didn't join you. And if he did, it would be for him.
You grinned. "Lead the way."
You pursed your lips, eyeing the skirt you hovered over yourself as you stood in front of the store's long mirror. It was a sparkly little thing. Silver. Small. Sequined. Your eyes flickered to Oscar's reflection, finding him standing nearby some rack (as if he hadn't been quietly watching you). “Oscar, can I ask you a question?"
Oscar raised a brow, swiftly moving away from the rack he had been pretending to rummage through. "You know you don't have to ask that every time, right? You can just ask," he grinned, inching closer to you.
"Oh," you pursed your lips, blinking blankly as the heat in your cheeks grew. "Right. Sorry," you smiled lightly, looking back at yourself in the mirror. "What do you think of this?" You asked, gesturing to the sparkly skirt dangling over the hanger.
He swallowed. It was pretty thing really. Made him imagine things he didn't want to imagine. But as he had watched you, he couldn't help notice the light in your eyes missing. Or the frown of your lips. He shrugged. "You don't seem to like it very much."
You fell silent for a moment, eyes slightly wide while you blinked. How Oscar knew that... you had no idea. You sucked in a sharp breath, staring at the skirt in the mirror with a small pout. "Kimi likes these things."
There it was. The perpetrator behind everything miserable and unbalanced in your life. Of course, Kimi liked these things like this. Short and tight. It was a way to claim you in all those parties and night clubs. One hand always on your exposed leg or on the curve of your ass as he practically screamed, "Look at me."
Oscar bit his lip, pushing away the rousing annoyance in his chest. "What do you like?"
The question was simple. Yet it seemed to leave you stumped. Doe eyes a bit dazed. Lips parted. Like you had never really given that much of a thought. And that only worsened the ache in his chest.
You tilted your head, directing your gaze behind Oscar. "I think that's pretty," you murmured, eyeing the semi-long white sundress nearby.
Oscar turned his head. With no sly comment or look of distaste you usually recieved, he stepped towards it, grabbing the hanger with ease before bringing it back to you. "Then wear it."
You pursed your lips, unsurely flickering over the dress. "But—"
"Just try it. You won't know if you don't try," Oscar said, firm yet gentle as he took your previous shopping bags slung on your arm and moved them to his. He pushed forward the dress again. "Go on."
He watched you swallow awkwardly, gingerly picking the dress out of his hand before drifting towards the fitting rooms. He followed after you, stopping when you suddenly turned back to face him.
"Will you wait for me?"
Oscar blinked. He hated how foreign the idea sounded to you. That you actually had to question it because your piece of shit boyfriend couldn't spare one second that wasn't for him.
He smiled warmly, not missing a beat to respond. "I'll be right here. Don't worry."
You nodded thankfully as he took a few steps back, taking a seat while he waited. And with every second the passed, Oscar couldn't help but think of it. The few times Kimi would come with you. Probably when the fans were out or along with the paps. How he'd probably walk around, not paying attention to you. Picking out clothes that he liked. Standing there, convincing you that you liked it as much as he did.
The clothes were just one example. Oscar was almost a hundred percent sure it was Kimi who had gotten you to publicise your socials to get more coverage. Every second post being a photo of you together where you looked happy and Kimi looked like presumptous asshole he was.
Had Oscar spent an unhealthy amount of time looking at your account? Yes. Maybe. But he couldn't help it. It was almost intuitional. The more he found to despise about Kimi, the more he seemed to sink deeper into the world that was you.
"Oscar?"
Oscar blinked, head lifting up as though he had been called by a siren. He found you peeking out of the curtain with a fretful smile. He raised his brows curiously. "Yeah?"
"Do you think you can help me with the strings? Or find someone who can? I can't really do them by myself," you chuckled awkwardly, cheeks slightly flushing.
He was standing on his feet when you called his name. Walking as you asked. Without as much of a fight or resistance you usually experienced, he had said yes.
You breathed in, feeling the narrow confinements of the fitting room become even smaller as Oscar entered. You pursed your lips, eyes darting between anything and Oscar in the mirror. "Just... those ones," you murmured, hovering over the two long strings sitting at your lower back.
Oscar held his breath in his lungs, fingers stretching and curling around the two attached pieces. He told himself he shouldn't look up as he looped each string. Because if he did, he was scared to see what he'd find. But he did.
He wasn't sure what fucked up his brain chemistry more. The heat radiating between your bodies from something a simple as a little knot. Or the brush his fingers over the fabric of your dress. Or perhaps the bob of your throat as you caught his eye. Like he made you nervous. And that thought alone made him warm all over.
He fastened the last knot, watching your breath hitch. "There," he said, voice gruff and strained while he committed the sinful cling of the fabric to your body to his memory.
He kept quiet, observing your eyes drift over yourself in the mirror. He saw it. That missing light. The small look of approval in the quirk of your lips. "Buy it," he simply said. "If you don't, I will."
Your lips parted with nothing quite to say as Oscar excused himself from the room, finally taking a breath of fresh air. His lungs burned as if he had denied the right to breathe with you, happy to let you suffocate him.
"Jesus Christ," Oscar muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He was so fucked.
You swallowed tightly as Kimi threw his phone in front of you, left open with a picture of you and Oscar talking outside the store yesterday. He stood in front of you, arms folded with an incredulous smile on his face. "I called you here to help me," he said chuckled, shaking his head. "I mean... I can't believe you thought I was cheating. How hypocritical can you get?"
You blinked, scatter of red creeping up your neck and cheeks instantly. "I... we were just talking, Kimi. I bumped into him on accident."
The scoff from his lips made your eyes sting. Not an ounce of trust rested in him as much as it did in you.
"Accident?" He questioned, raising his brows with amusement. "Nothing accidental about that prick. Don't think I haven't noticed him being around you more often. I mean come on, ___. Are you his girlfriend or mine?"
You frowned. "Of course, I'm your girlfriend, Kimi," you instantly said, not missing a beat to respond. "Why would you even ask that?"
Kimi tilted his head. "You're asking me that? Then don't do things that make me question you, belle," he grunted, jaw tight. He sucked in a breath when he spotted the thin shine over your eyes. He almost rolled his own. Of course. You couldn't go a conversation without crying.
"Why are you being so mean?" You murmured, eyes brimming with tears, tip of your nose beginning to flush.
After a moment a sigh fell from Kimi's lips. He stepped forward, hands holding you at either side of your arms. He leaned forward, meeting your gaze, brown eyes suddenly gentle. "I don't want to be. You just make it difficult, belle. You know I love you so much, yeah? Don't cry. I hate seeing you cry."
You blinked, feeling Kimi's lips gided over your eyelids briefly. For a moment you felt like your soul had separated from your body. Like you were watching yourself from another plane. You breathed in, sniffling quietly to yourself as he pulled away, thumb grazing your cheek.
"You understand, hmm?" He hummed, tucking your hair behind your ear.
You smiled tightly, giving him a nod. "I understand, Kimi. I won't do it again," you promised, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. "Ti amo."
Oscar hated clubs. There was nothing more uncomfortable for him as an introvert. The loud music, flashing lights, sweaty bodies, and an unhealthy amount of alcohol. All features of a nightmare he's had time and time again.
But he was here. Under the strobe lights, music vibrating throught the floor he stood on while his eyes searched through the dancing crowd. He was here because you were here. A small detail you had slipped into your texts with him recently. A night out with the drivers and their partners.
Lando spotted him first, surprise evident on his face as he came closer. He eyed the blue jeans and black polo shirt his teammate wore and chuckled. "Well this is out of the norm. I wonder why."
Lando wasn't as daft as some made him out to be. Of course, things were a lot easier when his usually composed and calm teammate was riled up by the simple mention of you. Oscar had made the mistake many other drivers had once made. Everyone had seen you once Kimi moved up racing categories. No one was going to deny it. You were a gorgeous girl with a pure heart. But you were young. And that was always risky territory. That fact you were Kimi's... it rubbed everyone the wrong way. Where as everyone saw you for what you were, Kimi saw you as the shiny trophy to put his on his arm.
But no one had tried to go against him. The effort against someone so cocky and arrgoant was tumultuous. Formula One was already bad enough as it was. The last thing any driver wanted was an extra target on his back when they raced.
But it seemed Oscar had willingly taken it up. And it ws going well. By sheer luck or pure talent, he had finally thwarted the neverending Mercedes domination and Kimi's winning reign. With a few race wins up his sleeve, Oscar loomed over the championship leader with a confidence Kimi would almost find familiar.
"Shut up," Oscar rolled his eyes at Lando, returning his gaze back to the crowd. There was no question as to who he was searching for. And he found you where he had expected. On Kimi's lap. His chin nestled into your shoulder, hand over your thigh while he talked to Ollie like you weren't there. And there you were again, dressed in the clothes that your fingers threatened to tug down.
Oscar watched silently as your lips dipped towards Kimi's ear, whispering something that made him nod and made him loosen his grip on you. His own feet moved across the club before he knew it. But he wasn't so obvious, blending with the crowd as you seemed to near the bathroom. At least from Kimi's angle. But from his, he could spot the right turn towards the stairs immediately.
The strobe lights turned red as Oscar walked up the stairs. The atmosphere up there, though still loud, seemed different. Slower and slurred. Crowded yet less chaotic. And in the mix of it all he found you. Sitting in an empty booth, head in your hands, resting on the table.
"You okay?"
You lifted your head at the voice, ears perked instinctively. You breathed a little more calmly when you realised who it was. "Oscar," you greeted with a small smile though you didn't hide your surprise. You watched him slide into the booth, sitting across you. "What are you doing here? This doesn't really seem like your scene."
Oscar rested his arms on the table. "Doesn't seem like yours either," he simply retorted. He grinned at your pursed lips and briefly stoic face. Like he had caught you in a lie.
You sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back into the booth. "It's not," you admitted with a sheepish nod. The sheer amount of eyes and people made you want to throw up. "But—"
"But Kimi likes it... right?" Oscar bitterly finished, brows raised.
You smiled lightly, nodding once again as your eyes drifted across the dancing crowd, swaying a bit more softer to the electric beat. "I came up here to breathe a little," you mumbled. "It's better than down there. He would've found me outside."
It was silent for a moment. Just Oscar watching quietly and you basking in something that didn't have Kimi's name scrawled all over it.
"Can I ask you a question?"
You blinked, peeling your gaze away from the scene and back to Oscar. You furrowed your brows. That was usually your line. But hearing it come from his mouth was humouring. You smiled lightly, gesturing for him to continue.
"Do you like to dance?" Oscar asked. It was a bold ask. One that made him regret it almost instantly. Lodge his breath in his throat as he waited.
You folded your arms, pondering over his question. "At home. Usually by myself. Kimi doesn't really enjoy it anymore," you sighed sadly, corners of your mouth frowning. You had tried asking once or twice. But the outcome was always the same. He was too busy or too weirded out.
Your eyes fell to the outsretched hand in front of you and then to the standing Oscar. You raised a brow.
"Let's dance then," he breathed.
You swallowed tightly, thinking back to the night just weeks ago where you and Kimi had argued about Oscar. About the promise you had made. You rubbed your lips together, looking at him fretfully as your stomach churned. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
Oscar tilted his head at you. "Stop thinking about Kimi and think for yourself. If you want to dance, then dance."
You should've kept your hand to yourself. You should've gone back downstairs. Whether it was those brown eyes staring back at you or the determination in Oscar's voice, you couldn't decide. But you gave him your hand and let him guide you to the floor.
It was a tight fit with the occassional bump of a shoulder or body nearby. Your eyes locked under the flashing red lights as you stood in front of each other. The music you could feel through your heels. For a moment, you do nothing. Just stare at each other.
"Do you even know how to dance?" You asked with a small but teasing smile, eyeing his frigid posture. He was like a frozen block of ice. Unable to move. Cautious of the surrounding movements. The awkward tipped grin on his face told you everything. And it made you laugh. Earnestly and genuinely.
Oscar bit the inside of his cheek, preventing him from smiling too hard when he felt the brush of your head fall against your chest. He watched as you lifted yourself up, amusement littered all over your face. Your hair dishevelled, tresses flying in different directions. Eyes sparkling under the lights. Smile beaming at him. And he could've sworn his heart stopped.
"They say to just feel the music. Move your body," you advised, brows scrunched like you were trying to remember.
He raised a brow. "They?" He repeated with a grin. "Who's 'they?'"
You pursed your lips, shrugging. "Club people. You learn a thing or two when you just sit there."
Oscar snorted. There was something unexplainably enjoyable when you became a little more loose-lipped without Kimi nearby. He cleared his throat. "So... you just move your body? That what you said?"
You nodded, beginning to move your hands. "I think if you imagine yourself like a fish it works better," you wiggled your brows, trailing your hands across your body to the beat thundering around you.
For a brief second, Oscar laughed. But the picture of a fish dancing died in his head quicker as the rhythm filtered through his ears and his eyes fell to you. The world instantly lingered in his head. Siren. That's what you reminded him of. Every twist and turn of your body making the movement of your hair seem like some art.
He wasn't sure when he himself had begun moving. The bob of his chin. The shuffle of his feet. But he couldn't call it dancing. It was more the appreciation of you in front of him. Admiring how lost you were for just a moment in time.
He couldn't believe it.
How could Kimi deny this? Deny you?
To not dance with you was a sin in itself. The mere idea of missing this bright smile of yours... his fear grew stronger.
The gap between you and Oscar had substantially gotten smaller. Like it was the natural order of things. Heat radiated from every angle possible, the air thick with sweat and something you couldn't quite pinpoint.
You hadn't realised how close you were till you felt the glide of Oscar's hand against the curve of your waist. Your gasp was soft and barely audible. But you could feel the small electric sparks running down your body. You flitted your eyes to Oscar hesitantly and it almost made you take a step back.
He was looking at you already.
Darkened brown eyes strained with red underneath the lights. His large hand pulled you a little closer, letting you see the traces of his moles and freckles. Feel the heat of his skin against yours. The press of his fingers. The scatter of his breath. Any closer it would be his pacing heartbeat.
Oscar looked... good.
More than good. Hot. He looked hot.
You breathed in as he turned your body, leaving your back pressed against his chest. His arm curled around your waist. You pulled your lip between your teeth when you felt his lower half press into you. Not forceful or insistent. Just there. Teasing. And for some godforsaken reason, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.
You swallowed hard, feeling his breath skim past your ear. His lips rested close by.
"The dress... Kimi's choice?"
Your thighs pressed together at his tight voice. As though he was struggling. You didn't understand the extent of the heat unfurling in your stomach. You had never felt this way. Not even with Kimi.
You cleared your throat, nodding against him. "Hate it?" You asked, breath shaky when you felt the tip of his nose graze the column your neck. You could've sworn your knees melted when you felt his smile lines ghost your cheek, lips brushing against the curve of your ear.
Your eyes widened slightly as you faced him once again. His hand never left you, snug and comfortably around your waist. Your body burned as he rested his head against yours, brown eyes holding your gaze so carefully. So heavily.
"I was taught that if I don't have anything respectful to say, I shouldn't say it at all," Oscar breathed tightly, jaw half clenched.
It was no ordinary beat your heart followed. With large gaps and ample opportunity to miss as you tried to decipher what he was saying. But before you could, it was Oscar who stepped away.
You struggled to catch your breath, staring back at him with your doe-eyes and your stomach churning.
Oscar blinked, brown eyes raking over you for one last time that night. Because if he stayed here a second longer, he'd do something he couldn't. He smiled at you, tight yet warm. "You're a good dance teacher, ___."
You hadn't talked to Oscar since the club. You couldn't quite bring yourself to. Neither did Kimi really let you, keeping you by his side at all times.
You were confused. You still didn't have a full grasp on what had happened. One moment you were dancing and then the other you were... God, you had no idea. You could just feel him. Hear him. See him. For a moment, everything was just Oscar.
But things had dampened down since then. You ocassionally saw Oscar here and there. You'd look. But you never quite did much more than that. Especially as Kimi fought with Oscar on track. Both contenders for a championship. Both their first. It was like a cat and mouse game. If Kimi won once, it was Oscar's turn the next.
And today, Kimi had taken back that victory chainmail, standing on the podium with a smirk so wide, you almost hadn't recognised him. Nor the extra clingy behaviour as he came off of it, kissing you, hand on your waist, and showering you with sweet little comments.
But you supposed this was why.
To have you all pressed up in the men's bathroom with rushed urgency after his media duties and debriefing. Shorts and boxers slung low around his legs. You propped up against the sink, skirt bunched up. His head tucked into your shoulder, groans and grunts muffled. Hips moving into you with desperation and pleasure.
It seemed Kimi had it all planned out.
Except for one little thing.
The door cracked open.
You weren't sure what it was. Whether he had genuinely forgotten or he thought no one was actually going to walk by. And well, if they did, it was only his ass that was going to be seen.
But you couldn't have counted for the possibility of Oscar passing by and stopping, frozen in his tracks.
Your heart almost stopped right there and then. Your eyes stuck with the brown orbs staring right back at you. Your lips parted. Perhaps with the intention to stop Kimi. But you didn't. You didn't understand why you didn't.
You hadn't been wet for the past ten minutes but now the slick was beginning to pile up. The squelch of Kimi's cock driving into you, lewd and obscene.
"Oh fuck," Kimi swore into your skin. "You're getting so wet for me, belle," he panted, grunting as his teeth nibbled into your shoulder. "So fucking wet."
You could see the bob of Oscar's throat. Like a deer in headlights. He didn't move either. Instead the press of his teeth against his lip made you moan against Kimi's ear. The first sound you had made since you had gotten in here.
You focused on the betraying pull of Oscar's brows at the sweet sounds pouring from your mouth. How his fingers curled so tightly against his side. You wondered what he could see. how much of you he could see. The thought only made you clench tighter around Kimi's cock.
"Cazzo," Kimi hissed, hands digging into your hips. "Doesn't that feel so good, baby? Yeah? I'm making you feel so good," he groaned, pushing deeper into you. The sound of your skin against one another now escaped the bathroom with ease.
You choked on the air, hand falling to Kimi's brown curls while you eyed the flush of Oscar's skin. How dark his eyes were. How they fell to where you and Kimi met, enchanted. And for a moment, your breath matched his. Every heave of your chest... it was like he was guiding you just metres away.
You could barely comprehend the heat in your core. All you knew was it was messy. Juices running down your thighs. So wet a ring of white formed around Kimi's cock as he pushed in and out of you. The soft sounds tumbling from your throat uncontrollably as you watched Oscar's tongue swipe his bottom lip.
Oscar should have moved. Like he had done all the other times he had heard the both of you. But he could see it in your eyes. With every praise Kimi gave himself or you... the only thing turning you on right now was him.
His shorts, unexplainably tight around his more than obvious large bulge, only worsened as he watched your hand move between your and Kimi's bodies. Your eyes never moved off of him. His own lips quirking when your fingers pressed against your desperately sore bundle of nerves.
Because Kimi couldn't get you off.
Oscar could have laughed if it wasn't for the situation he was in. Or for the fact he could see this new pleasure so clearly on your face. Your brows furrowed tightly, teeth sinking into your lip, cheeks red, eyes dazed... he could tell. You were close.
Kimi seemed to be too. Speeding his hips up against yours. Still in his own little fantasy where he was the one making you feel so good. He came quick, stuttering against you with his lust-driven grunts. He was decent though, still moving for you.
Oscar had to give it to him. If Kimi hadn't continued and left you there to fend for yourself, it would've been him taking out his own cock and making sure you saw stars.
It was wrong. God, it was so wrong. You knew it. Oscar knew it. But you had never felt like this. So... good. Still the mix of shame and pleasure coursed through you simultaneously, hand gripping Kimi's brown curls while your fingers pressed and rubbed your clit breathlessly. This was it.
"That's it. Cum for me, belle."
But it wasn't it Kimi you were listening to. At least not directly.
Your hazed eyes capturing the small, encouraging nods of Oscar's head. His uneven silent breaths. And you can see his lips mouth the words.
Cum.
Cum.
Cum for me.
Oscar wanted to fall to his knees as he watched the peak of ecstasy hit you. You were seeing white. He could almost fucking feel it with how tight your body locked up, your lips parted in pure awe. But especially as you ensured your eyes were on him for every goddamn second.
Holy fuck.
Oscar had to step away. Any moment now it would be Kimi turning around. And this... whatever it was, would be over.
The walk to his driver's room was faster than anything he had ever done. He did his bare duties; strained smiles and nods. A brush past the few team members packing up. His door was locked in an instant, back pressed against the wall, and his hand under his waistband.
It was a wonder Oscar hadn't cum right there and then as he looked down at his cock, hung with urgency. His red tip leaked profusely, throbbing with a need he had never succumbed to before.
He had been careful in the past few months. Not to get wrapped up with your name on his lips and his hand on his cock. Because that journey would never go down well for him. But that night in the club... his hand on your waist and your ass against him... it had ruined him. He had gone home, jerking off like it was the first time he had ever felt someone this close to him.
But this... this was different. Oscar's brain was rushing. No. Overflowing with what he had just seen. And he couldn't get it out of his head. The way your breath caught when he had walked by. The honey-like sounds falling from your lips. The obscenely wet sounds coming from your cunt. And the most damning fact of all—you had kept going after you had seen him.
Oscar bit down into wrist, face contorted with pleasure, moans muffled as he fisted himself. His eyes and hips rolled with as much desperation as you had just shown. It was almost mimickable how wet he sounded, shaft and tip just doused in his neverending pre-cum.
He couldn't decide what set him off. The orgasmic bliss on your face or the knowing that it was him. Him that made you cum. Maybe not physically. But it was not Kimi and his idiocy. Your fingers and his presence... that was what had done it.
Oscar's body convulsed, hips stuttering as the pleasure climbed over him rapidly. His teeth clamped harder into his skin, spurts of hot cum coming out in long strings. Leaving his hands and shorts stained with the mess you had created.
Removing his wrist from his mouth, he breathed silently and hard, staring at the idle components of his driver's room.
Jesus. He might have been fucked before. But there was no going back after today.
You couldn't count how many times you had been like this recently. And by this, you meant curled up somewhere and in tears.
You had been a mess since Kimi's race. What you had done... that was so wrong on so many levels. There was no beating around the bush. You had cheated. One way or another.
And it was humiliating. Because that was probably the best you had ever felt in your life. But not because of your actual boyfriend, Kimi. But because of Oscar.
You had skipped as much races as you could without Kimi getting suspicious. You couldn't look at him without feeling ashamed. Nor could you look at Oscar. He had sent you texts. Too many of them. So you had blocked him and deleted his number.
But you couldn't get out of this one. You could see the questions brewing in Kimi's head when he had asked you if you were coming. And you had run out of excuses.
You thought it would be fine. That you could get through this weekend without any tears or any fights. But much to your disappointment, you were wrong.
Kimi's fixation with winning had turned into agitation now that Oscar was taking even bigger chunks of points out of his lead. He wasn't happy with the car's performance during practice. He had given the team hell after it. And when that wasn't enough, you were the next available target.
You had lost count of the type of things he had said to you in front of the team. How you weren't supportive enough. That you never stuck through with him like he did with you. How it was your fault that his car, which you had no connection to whatsoever, was bad. That you had somehow bewitched Oscar into being good.
The message was clear: it was your fault.
Humiliation didn't even cover it. Mortified was more like it. The awkward gazes of the team. The tears ramping up in your eyes. Your flushed cheeks. You hated it. And you hated it even more because it was your fault.
So you sat on the dry concrete in Belgium, between the awkward space of two team suites, head tucked into your knees as wave after wave of anger and embarrassment hit you. Your tears had partially died down, caught on your trousers and shirt.
Your jaw clenched as you glared at the concrete, chewing your lip anxiously. Why did you have to go screw this all up? You should have listened to Kimi. You should have never accepted that dance because then you would've never found Oscar like this. So good. So ugh... you wanted to scream at yourself.
"Hey, hey," a familiar voice echoed into the air, making the hairs on your body stand up. “What’s happened?"
You lifted your head slowly, reddened eyes meeting the concerned brown pair staring right back at you. It was Oscar, of course. Bent down, knees embedded onto the concrete and hands on the sides of your own knees. Your chest ached at the sight of him and yet the anger seemed to roar in your head when you thought about what you had done. You sighed almost annoyed, tilting your head back against the wall.
"Nothing. Just forget about it," you wiped your tear-stained cheeks with the back of your hand.
Oscar's brows mended together at your reaction. As if it was a crack in the perfect glass world you had been living in. "___, you know you don't have to be embarrassed around me—"
"This is embarrassing," you gritted out, hurt eyes drifting to him. "It's always embarrassing that you always finds me like this. Crying like some pathetic waste of space."
"No. That's not true," Oscar murmured, head shaking as he tucked your hair behind your ears. "Kimi should be the one that's embarrassed. Making you cry like this," he said, jaw twitching. He could only imagine what he had said to you. Piece of shit.
You chuckled dryly. "I'm a horrible girlfriend, Oscar. What I did that day... that's unforgiveable.,'" you whispered, eyes tearing up yet again. "I deserve this. It all makes sense now. The paddock was never boring. People don't talk to me because they know how bad I am."
Oscar almost wanted to laugh in disbelief. How bad you were? All you had done was dance a little and feel the best you had ever felt in your life. All you had done was live a little and here you were denouncing Kimi's actions like he had done no wrong.
"Sweetheart, people don't talk to you because of you. They don't talk to you because of Kimi. No one wants to tell you but I will," he swallowed the lump in his throat, chest sore at the sight of your reddened eyes.
You sniffled, confusion visible on your face. "What?"
"That Kimi doesn't deserve you."
Your brows furrowed, affronted in an instant. The memories seemed to hit you one after another. He was your first for everything. First kiss. First time. First boyfriend. First love. He was perfect, wasn't he? "That's not true. Kimi's—"
"An asshole," Oscar cut in firmly. "Someone who loves you doesn't hurt you. Someone who loves you doesn't make fake promises. Or put limits on how you act. Who you can see."
You shook your head. No. Your Kimi wasn't like that. "He's just protective—"
Oscar's hands moved to grab your face, holding your gaze so fiercely, for a moment you forgot to breathe. "___, someone who loves you doesn't make you question yourself."
You fell silent, not bothering to wipe the fresh tears spilling from your eyes. Your brows quivered and your stomach churning. Your heart echoed in your ears while your brain flashed between your altered memories.
It was like watching some sort of stained glass shatter right in front of your eyes. Your perfect Kimi no longer perfect.
"He wasn't like that at the start. I swear," you whispered, looking back at Oscar, lip trembling.
Oscar sucked in a sharp breath at the crack in your voice. Fuck. He sighed quietly, arms wrapping around you and bringing you to his chest, lips pressed to the side of your head. "I know, sweetheart. I know."
"Can you stop brainwashing my girlfriend?"
Oscar looked away from his trainer, conversation coming to a screeching halt. His eyes travelled around the room, ensuring it was still cladded in papaya. He smiled at Kimi. "Are you even allowed to be in here?" He raised a brow, folding his arms, leaning back in his seat.
Kimi tongued the inside of his cheek. He was sure he had never met anyone as obnoxious as Oscar Piastri. "Did you hear me? Stay away from my girlfriend. Or else," he glowered, jaw tight, turning on his foot.
"Or else what?" Oscar goaded, making the Italian stop dead in his tracks and his trainer sigh. He stood up from his chair, eyeing the figure in front of him with disgust. "Kimi, piece of advice. You should probably try treat your girlfriend better."
It was like something in Kimi had snapped. Turning around with such force, the air had bended as he stalked up to Oscar, his breath in his face. "Don't fucking tell me how to treat my own girl," he spat, chest heaving.
Oscar's mouth quirked. "You treat her like shit and come here acting like you don't," he chuckled, shaking his head, brown eyes hard with annoyance. "You don't deserve her. You don't deserve anything you have."
Kimi blinked, scrutinising the man in front of him before letting out a scoff. "I get what this is."
Oscar raised his brows, bored and tired. "Do you now?" He asked dryly, not so easily entertained by Kimi's smirk.
"You're jealous," Kimi deducted, smirk widening with every passing second as he thought back to the past year. His debut compared to Oscar's. "I'm so young and yet I have everything you were ever promised. The team. The car. The wins."
Oscar, the master of composure, remained stoic. Not a budge on his face to give him the true inkling—that he was right. That this was how it had started. But that wasn't going to be how it ended. "If that's all you can think about after treating her the way you do... you are exactly who I think you are," he muttered with distaste heavy on his tongue. "She's not yours, Kimi. She's her own person."
Kimi stood in front of him, unimpressed as his lips parted to retaliate. But Oscar leaned in, lowering his voice to a more inaudible frequency. "And even if she was yours, no honourable man would leave his girl to get off by herself," he murmured with a gentle smile, basking in the drop of Kimi's smirk.
Oscar patted Kimi's shoulder with feigned condolences, heading towards the exit of the McLaren suite. Leaving Kimi to stand by himself, pale in the face and sick to his stomach.
Kimi had crashed. it was horrible. Pieces of the car flying everywhere. The gasp of the crowd. The bang of his fist against the snapped halo. The replay was all you could think of as you finally made your way to the medical bay, eyes glossed with tears, stomach churning, and heart pacing erratically. You hadn't taken a breath until you opened the door, finding him sitting on the couch, icepack to his hand .
You sucked in a shaky breath, feet rushing before you could even think your hands flew to his face, frantically examining his entire body for something that maybe the doctor or nurse had missed. "Oh Kimi," you choked, tears spilling. "A-Are you okay? D-Do you want me to call anyone?"
A piece of your heart broke as Kimi slapped your hand away with his bandaged fist, icepack falling to the floor. He glared at you, disgust swarming in his eyes. "Don't do that. Don't pretend you care."
You kept your hand close to your chest, brows furrowed. "Kimi... what are you talking about? Of course, I care. I—"
"I crashed because of you."
You froze at his words. "W-What?"
He stood from the couch. He jammed his finger into your chest. "This is your fault," he gritted out, lip trembling with pure anger. " Oscar this. Oscar that. Oscar, Oscar, Oscar," he spat out.
"Kimi—"
"You might as well come out with it. Luring Oscar to mess with my championship. How could you do this to me? When I've been here for you since the very start?" Kimi exasperated, own eyes pricking with tears.
You swallowed the bile creeping up your throat as the tears seeped into your cheeks. You looked at him, repulsed and with your brows mended. Your skin ached where his finger landed, invisible bruises already forming. "You're really questioning my loyalty? Once. Only once did I ever question you. After all those signs... the looks to those other girls. I ignored it because I thought you really loved me. And I questioned you once and you ridiculed me. And you really think I did something as elaborate as tricking Oscar?"
"Who knows?" He heaved dryly. "You've changed, ___. Years ago, you would've stuck by me," Kimi hissed.
You chuckled despite the tears falling one after another. "I have been. Every single goddamn day. You’re the one who's changed, Kimi! I don't see the guy who stayed up all night outside my house to wish me happy birthday. Or protected me from the photographers. No. Now... with you it’s... it’s clubs. And parties. Cameras following our every move. You degrade me in front of your co-workers. Disrespect me in front of millions. You show me off like I'm some trophy and put me to the side when you don't need me."
"Right..." Kimi laughed bitterly, shaking his head with utter disbelief. "Oscar doesn't do that then?"
Your face burned with anger, lip twitching. How dare he...
"Well at least he doesn't make me cry!" You exclaimed with an exhausted sob, shoulders heavy and burdened. "That's all you ever do, Kimi. You make me cry, then you love me. You criticise me, then you love me. I do what you want and it's still never enough for you. I will never be enough."
And suddenly, you were young kids all over again. Facing each other outside of school under the blues skies and warm winds of Bologna. Your smile so bright for him, he promised never to make it go away. Eyes so full of light, he never wanted to see a single tear.
Kimi blinked, lips parting for a response but nothing ever came out. Just the croak of realisation as he stood in front of you, finally taking in your reddened eyes, tear stained cheeks, and flushed skin.
It was like a slap to the face.
That was his doing.
He had made you cry.
He had hurt you.
What had he done?
You wiped your cheeks hastily as he stepped forward, hand hesitantly reaching out. Your throat burned, raw and sore from yelling. "I'm done, Kimi. Don't call me. Or my parents. Don't come by my house," you sniffled, lip quivering with disgust. “I don't ever want to talk to you again."
Oscar had recognised your downbeat face in a heartbeat as you sat in the McLaren motorhome, in his room, waiting with a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. A familiar sight. But something was different. He could tell.
No longer could he see the awkward, nervous demeanour Kimi had elicited from you. Instead a frame of exhausted freedom in your sunken eyes. Tip of your nose red and cheeks flushed from crying.
Oscar could tell this would be the last time he'd ever let you cry.
He breathed in quietly, removing his cap as he took a seat next to you. For a brief moment, he didn't say anything. A minute of silence for what was gone. For all your efforts that had been disrespected in every manner.
"We don't have to talk about it," Oscar mumbled, grabbing your hand, frowning at your cold skin. Warming your hand gently, he took in another breath. "Or do anything. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."
You moved your eyes from the coffee table drearily to Oscar, your hand, and then back to him. "Can I ask you question?"
Oscar swallowed, nodding with a perfect ease. "Of course," he said softly.
"Would you ever make me cry?"
Not one second wasted to think when he already knew the answer. "Never," he breathed, moving to tuck your dishevelled hair behind your ear. "There is no world or universe where I could even fathom it."
You pursed your lips, searching his eyes, trying to understand the weight of his words. Waiting for a split second to see if you could find the lies you had ignored in Kimi. But you found none. Just his warm gaze and the feel of his hand on your cheek, resting.
The corners of Oscar's lips teetered. "Was that a good media trained answer?"
You couldn't help but laugh a little, chest just a bit lighter now. You nodded your head. "Nice job," you murmured teasingly, nudging him with your elbow.
Oscar smiled, boyish and gentle as his thumb grazed your cheek back and forth before tracing over the small crinkles near your eyes, raised from your own smile. His chest ached slightly. Happiness looked far better on you.
You watched Oscar's eyes dip, falling to your lips for a brief moment. A silent struggle he decided to shake away. You sucked in a quiet breath, gentle fingers raising to brush over his lips, making him freeze. Meeting those brown eyes, a new shade you had come to enjoy, you tilted your head up and leaned in, pressing your mouth to his briefly.
Oscar's breath caught and his pulse jumped as you pulled away a smidge, shy smile faint on your face. Without a second thought, he brought you right back to him, lips pressed against yours with a barely contained urgency. His nose knocked against yours, head tilting while he parted your mouth with a simple ease.
The air in your lungs seemed to burn, caught and stuck while your brain turned into mush. It had been a while since someone had kissed you like they had meant it. Not for any camera or audience. A moment just yours. Your breath to steal.
You shifted against him, feeling his hand move to your waist in an attempt to bring you closer. The soft noise from your throat made the both of you shudder. The thud against the couch was gentle as you fell on top of him, never quite parting. as though the taste of each other was all consuming.
Oscar begrudgingly pulled away, breath shaky as he rested his head against yours. He swallowed, trying to compose himself. A gentle laugh fell from his swollen lips, brown eyes flickering to you and your flushed cheeks. "I was supposed to take this slow," he sighed.
Your body shook lightly with an amused laughter. "You have all the time in the world to try," you teased. "I'm giving you my heart, Piastri. Don't screw it up."
Oscar softly blinked, smile slowly stretching onto his face. "I promise," he breathed, pressing a long kiss to the top of your cheek.
Radio silence. That all Kimi had heard from you. He had ignored your warnings. Called and called. Text after text to try and rectify his wrongs. But you had quickly blocked his number. And it wasn't the only gruelling problem in his life.
Kimi didn't know what was going on but he was losing. He was losing bad. Every race... it was like he was taking a thrashing. And each one from them coming from Oscar. From wins and podiums... he was stuck at the bottom of top ten towards the end of a season. His big point lead now heavily eaten into. His confidence on thin ice.
And it was all Oscar's fault.
It was driving Kimi crazy. Leaving him in tears. because nothing quelled his anger. No workout. No crash. Nothing. He was even beginning to hallucinate. Hoping to turn around in the paddock and see you nearby. Hearing echoes of your voice in the air. Anything to keep him sane.
But you weren't here. Because he had fucked up. because Oscar Piastri had decided to get in the way.
Here Kimi was. After all of it. Entering the paddock miserably for the third to last race of the season. One of the championship deciders. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep on the plane. Long hours spent in silence and with his brain.
He needed to head towards the Mercedes' suite for a morning brief. Pick up any instructions from the communiations team, maybe train a little before he went off to complete his media duties for the day.
His smile was tight and dull for the nearby cameras, hand hanging onto the bag slung over his shoulder. He walked with no extra pep or ego in his step. No cocky cadence that he once exhibited. Only with a sliver of hope that he could win. Even by a single point. Because suddenly the season he had been dying to start was the same one he was dying to be over.
Kimi's brows furrowed at the surprised looks of the photographers and people nearby. Their eyes travelling to the scene behind him, wide and cautious. He paused in his steps, body slowly turning to satiate his curiosity. But what he saw made his heart freeze and his blood run cold.
He blinked once. Twice. And another two more times.
But the sight never changed.
Kimi wasn't hallucinating. It was you.
For a second, Kimi's heart soared. A genuine smile threatening to spring onto his face. But as his eyes dropped down to your hand intertwined with another, he followed the arm to the familiar face of Oscar's and whatever happiness he had felt for a brief second had been smashed to smithereens.
He watched silently. Forced to do so, if anything. Watched as Oscar did the opposite of everything he ever did. Guiding you through the hoard of photographers and fans, keeping you close by as you both meet with Lando nearby. Watched as Oscar noticed your untied shoe and bent down to tie them without a second thought. Coming back up to give you a gentle kiss on your cheek as you enthusiastically engaged with his teammate.
Respectful and gentle with you. Fufilling all the promises Kimi had once made.
You looked unexplainably happy. Talking to someone that wasn't him. Someone that was no longer afraid to reciprocate any conversation with you.
For the first time in a while, Kimi could see the very same light in your eyes and your bright smile under these blue skies. None of which were for him. And it was like a stab to the heart.
But nothing worse than the smooth swivel of Oscar’s head, brown eyes meeting his as he smiled at him. Not a grin. Or smirk. A smile. Innocent and kind on the outside was the gesture. But the lingering stare emphasised it all.
It was official.
His wins.
His podiums.
His reputation.
His happiness.
His first love.
Oscar Piastri had stolen everything Kimi once had.
Hii, i love your writing, was wondering if you would write a max verstappen fic with a desi fem reader?
thank you so much!!
i've been debating it for my next max series. a lot of people been asking me for one too. i realise i haven't posted the masterlist for yet but think next-ceo-in-line!max and forbidden love (its not the poor-rich trope i promise). i'll put a little poll to help get an idea of what you guys are you looking for (dw i won't be offended if you don't.)
A/N: now i'm going to hold your hand when i say this... trust the process.
🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist | 🦋 heart of chambers
You could've gone to anyone to quell the bustling market of thoughts in your mind. Catherine. Jenson. Your aunt. Hattie.
But for some reason, all you could think of was this very place. Even in its sweltering heat, seemingly endless tourist period, and the sightly pricey last-minute ticket, Barcelona called your name with the familiarity Monaco lacked.
These doors hadn't changed the last you had seen them. Nor the windows or cladding. Nothing new had been added nor had anything been removed. The annual flowers in the small garden patch nearby were finally beginning to blossom. The grass had been cut.
No familiar face greeted you at first. At least not any human one. You smiled at the rapid barks of Nilo, paws tapping against the glass panes excitedly before he leaped down from the windowsill and rushed through the pet door installed a few summers back.
A chuckle fell from your lips as you bent down, hand patting his soft head. "Hey, Nilo."
A bark returned as a response while the front door clicked open and Pedri blinked at the sight of your face in front his very door, Fer and his parents catching glimpse of you from the living room. "___," he softly said. "What are you... what are you doing here?"
You smiled tightly, peering up at him. "I think I need some help."
"He kissed you in the middle of the sea?" Fer gaped, lounging on the couch with his eyes wide as you recounted the recent events. He blew some air into his cheeks, quick approving whistle falling from his lips. "Talk about romantic, huh?"
Pedri turned his head to his brother, face blank. "Dude, how is that all you got from the story?" He grumbled, looking back at you and Nilo curled up together across him. He smiled quietly.
Fer rolled his eyes. His brother was fun when he was jealous. He breathed in, trying to mend together the pieces you had given him. "So... Oscar spent a lot of time with you during the break. Mustered the courage to kiss you… I’m struggling to see the problem here. The guy clearly likes you."
Pedri nodded begrudgingly while he leaned over, chin in hand as he spotted the flush on your cheeks from a mile away. This was not what he was expecting when you said you needed help. After ushering his parents to do something else once you caught up with them... he'd been lying if he wasn't feeling a little hopeful.
You swallowed tightly, struggling to keep those flashbacks out of your head. "That's not true. There are many problems. He's my co-worker for one. And my best friend, so that's like double weird. And... And..."
"And you can't believe he actually likes you," Pedri deducted after you struggled to come up with another reason. He folded his arms, leaning back into the couch. "Because you loved him first."
You bit your lip as the silence poured in. He had hit the nail on the head. Looking down at Nilo, you sighed. "It's one thing to spend so many years pining over him like an idiot. Another when you tried to stop. And now... he comes in and ruins everything."
Fer mended his brows, attempting to make sense of this new information. "Doesn't explain why you can't believe it. You liked him. He likes you now. What’s the difference?"
You shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps this was a conversation you should've had with Hattie or your aunt. But those were people too close to you as they were to Oscar. You needed to get away. Even for a little bit. But the thing about people like Fer and Pedri who were mostly indifferent to Oscar was that they were unintentionally pushing your limits.
Case in point being Fer.
"I know Oscar more than he knows himself," you breathed out after a few minutes. "Not just because I'm his friend. But because I spent so many years wanting to know him like that. Because I loved him. But I don't think he knows me like that," you whispered as the doubt began to creep into your mind.
Maybe it had been fun and games that day in the paddock or in the kitchen. Reaffirming just how much you knew each other. But you were quite sure that whatever he felt, if he did feel anything at all, was nothing to the years you had spent loving him. Like a weighing scale, it was all unbalanced.
You blinked. "And he just broke up with his girlfriend a few months ago, you know. I'm just not sure if he's in the right mindset and—"
Fer leaned up from the couch, brows mended incredulously. "You think you're a rebound?"
Pedri sat straight at those words, looking over at you with a sudden soft yet stern exterior. He breathed in at your silence, confirming his beliefs. "You can't be serious. ___, you're not a rebound. You're never a rebound."
"I just don't get it," you grumbled, frustrated entirely. "How is it that I can't move on after all these years from him and he just... can? That was his first love. How could he possibly love someone like me after her?"
Pedri blinked slowly. In the few years of knowing, he knew you to be quite strong-minded. And while no one was susceptible to it, insecurity was never really one of your weaknesses. But in this moment, he could see it. That mental comparison in your head.
Were you pathetic for still feeling so deeply for Oscar after all these years? And if someone's first love was indeed as pathetic as you thought it to be, then Oscar could only like you because he was lacking the stability his own had once brought him. Because waiting all these years, watching him fall for someone that wasn't you when you had been there all along, made you wonder what that moment in the water really even meant.
A frown formed on Pedri's face. It was one thing doubting yourself. But seeing your confidence knocked down altogether...
Pushing himself off the couch, he sat crouched in front of you, eyes peering up as you had just done not so long ago. His hand shifted to your knee, comforting and reassuring. "___, I promise you, you aren't someone people don't fall in love with. So whatever you're thinking in that pretty little head of yours... stop."
You sighed, giving him a resigned look. "Pedri—"
"I'm telling the truth. There is a lot to love about you," Pedri murmured, smile soft and tight. Almost regretful.
You pursed your lips at the sight. "Hey, come on—"
"You can't fight a heart," Pedri cut in, standing back up onto his feet. "So don't bother trying."
"I'm sorry, you did what?" Lando queried, almost losing balance of the dumbbell in his hands, widely eyeing his teammate through the mirror.
Oscar gave him a small, feeble glare. "I kissed ___," he muttered through clenched teeth, turning his neck against the strained resistance band, force creeping up tightly.
"And to think all I asked for was a dip in the ocean," Lando sighed, shaking his head with disbelief. Soon enough, the corners of his mouth quirked up with approval and admiration. "Mate, you are on your game right now."
"Yeah, I wouldn't quite say that," Oscar said, sighing as Kim released the band. "Wehaven'ttalkedsincethen."
Lando turned his head at the barely audible words of his teammate, resting his dumbbell back on the rack. "Sorry. What was that?" He asked, raising his brow.
Oscar pressed his lips together, awkwardly rubbing his arms, curling his fingers. "Uh... we haven't really talke—"
"Haven't really what?"
"T-Talked," Oscar repeated. "We haven't really talked since then."
"Oscar, you idiot," Lando sighed heavily, hands immediately covering his face in disappointment. "You didn't, I don't know, call her? Text her?"
Oscar tried not to wince at the grimace on Lando and his trainer's face. He cleared his throat, taking a step forward to discreetly speak. He breathed in. "So about that. Funny thing. After I kissed her... she kind of told me I was her first love, and she couldn’t really do it again. So, you know, I thought she'd like some space."
Lando's eyes widened, blinking blankly at him. "Fucking hell," he murmured after some time. His brows mended slightly. "How are you not freaking out?"
Oscar swallowed. He was. He totally was.
It had been around three days since then. And he hadn’t heard a single thing from you. He didn’t think you were avoiding him. He thought you needed time to process it. And hell, he needed it as much as you did.
The words had been repeating over and over in his head.
"Then I'll fall in love with you... again."
"And you won't... again."
He couldn't forget the way you said it or how you looked as you did. The desperation on your face. The plea teeming from your lips. Your eyes glossed. And yet there was something he still couldn’t quite decipher. These struggle in those very eyes.
It wasn't like you had pushed him away. Not exactly anyways. You had reciprocated it for that minute. He hadn't imagined your lips moving against his. For a moment in time, you had wanted it at much as he did.
But that didn't change anything. This new fundamental truth had shaken his very core. You had been in love with him from the very start. And he had never known.
He had been thinking about it before he went to sleep. Revisiting all the memories he had with you, trying to pinpoint where your feelings might have changed. And some of those memories had indeed changed. Your reactions during boarding school. Your cautious approaches with Lily, supportive but not too invested either. Hattie's lingering looks between the both of you.
And suddenly, those two years apart had made sense. Yes, you had sacrificed a lot of relationships and memories during that period. But all that distancing and time away... it was because of him. Even how Hattie had made a sudden effort to stop mentioning you quite as much.
Truth be told, it terrified him. How deep this ran.
How could he have not known? Would things have changed if he had? Would he have liked you as much as he did now? Perhaps. Perhaps not. He’d never know.
"And you won't... again."
No. This time things were different. This time your feelings were aligned.
He wanted this to work, and he wanted it to be with you.
Hattie stared at your name in her contacts; lip pulled between her teeth as she debated. She had heard what had happened from Oscar, of course. But what terrified her the most was the silence on your end. Not one text or call.
Usually with things like this, it was you who reached out first. You panicking over the phone as you had done for years.
Hattie had always been in a tough position when it came to the situation. For a majority of it, although she was Oscar's sister, she was your best friend. In a time where he knew nothing and hadn’t batted an eye to you in the way you wanted. But now things had changed. Oscar knew. Oscar's feelings had changed.
And now she was caught between being a sister and best friend. The fine line.
A sigh fell from her lips as she pressed your name, letting the ring ruminate in her room. By the fifth ring, she wondered whether you would pick up. She figured you were as far away from Oscar as possible. Knowing you, you weren't even in Monaco. And her brother found waiting around your apartment too invasive.
"Hey, Hats."
Hattie blinked, thumb gliding to switch to a video call instantly, propping her phone against her bed post. "Hey," she greeted after a moment, trying to sus the unfamiliar background you. "How are you? You don't seem to be... home."
You breathed in, nodding slowly. "Yeah, um, I'm not. Not even in Monaco actually," you chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck. “Just doing a quick mental reset before the Netherlands."
"That's good," Hattie murmured with a small smile. She could spot the tension in your body from miles away. "Is everything... alright?" She started.
You paused for a moment before nodding quickly. "Yup. Perfect."
A frown threatened to etch onto Hattie's face. She swallowed, mulling over a choice of words that wouldn’t make you hang up the phone. But of course, there weren't many options. "Are you sure? Oscar called me recently and—"
You sighed deeply, hand rubbing your face tiredly. "Look that was just a mistake—"
"A mistake?" Hattie repeated, brows raised. This was her you were talking to. "My lovely, this is all you’ve ever wanted and you're saying it's a mistake. Oscar freaking likes you and—"
"That's not true. He doesn't," you retorted quickly. “He just isn't in the right mindset after Lily. Whatever he feels... it'll go away."
Hattie fell silent at your words, brown eyes almost piercing you through the screen while she dissected your defence. She spoke carefully and calm, eerily similar to her brother. "You think my brother is using you as a rebound? The Oscar?" She asked, almost offended. She swallowed, clearing her mind at the mere thought. She could tell you were scared. Wary.
She breathed in softly. "You know him. He would never do that. Not to anyone and especially not to you," she murmured.
You blinked. You knew that deep down. Rebound and Oscar didn't go well together.
"I just don't get why," you heaved after a moment, relaying what you had learnt so recently after being pushed by Fer and Pedri. "Why not then. Why now? What makes me so different now? I went through all of that and I almost moved on. And the only reason I can think of is this. I'm here after she is. Easy access or something."
The frown Hattie had been trying to suppress made its way clearly onto her face. Your torment was evident. And she wasn't quite sure if she could be the one to solve it. This was up to Oscar.
She sighed a second later. "That's just how the heart is and you know it. You can't control it or turn it off. You can't choose who to like. Just like how you have no control over Oscar. Sure, these have been long years for you. Yes, you suffered and you cried. But a person in love is always the winner. The fact you feel as happy as you to do when it comes to him... isn't that what matters the most? Letting yourself be happy?"
You gave her a small, empty stare through the screen. But happiness wasn't just Oscar. Happiness was also the dreams you had been trying to achieve. For you. For the women around you. And inextricably tied to it was Oscar.
If you let your guard down and let yourself fall as you had done before, all you had now could disappear. With the click of a finger. The headlines would talk and the fans would whisper about how you were exactly what they feared you were.
A woman who couldn't get anything done without the help of a man.
That of course you'd date your co-worker because what else was a girl to do?
You had heard of co-worker relationships in the paddock. All initially secret. Hushed under the fear of HR and backlash. Quiet in the fear of a woman losing the job she had worked so hard for all because she had done something as mundane as living a little. All while a man would retain his authority, his position, and his power.
You couldn't do that. Not when you were so close. Not when you were living your dreams. Nor when you had no idea how to manipulate that level of scrutiny to your advantage, let alone forfeit your passion. You hadn't even signed for another year yet. Effectively, you were seatless while Oscar still had his. With no cushioning or safety net, your hands were tied.
"Say that again," Oscar barely asked his sister as he laid in his bed, recounting the discussion you had had with her. You had talked to her which made him feel a little better. You were fine at least. But you weren't here. You weren't ten minutes away. And that made him feel worse.
A deep sigh came from Hattie's end. "I've already said it like ten times. Saying it once more isn’t going to make it any eas—"
"Hattie."
She grumbled under her breath. She had already broken girl code in the name of being an honourable sister. But her brother seemed to be rubbing it in her face without even realising. “She thinks she's rebound, okay? That you haven’t processed Lily and you just like her because she's the one that's around."
Oscar sat up, affronted, chest filled with a sick nausea all of a sudden. "I would never do that," he stated firmly.
"I know that. And she does too. I just..." Hattie sighed, pinching the nose of her bridge. "How easy do you think it is for her? She watched you be with Lily for years. Anything she would’ve done, you probably wouldn't have cared like that. So when you pop out of nowhere, freshly single... what else is she supposed to think?"
Oscar frowned, guilt creeping up silently. "But it's not fake. O-Or... a one-off," he whispered the word with strong distaste. "Sure, it's random and the timing is awful, but I can't help it. She's the one person that makes me happy right now. And it’s not because of Lily. Things were miserable far before our breakup. I just... for the first time in a while, it feels like I can breathe a little. Be me unapologetically. No cameras, no media. Like if I talked to her about anything, she'd understand. And I want to be that for her."
Hattie smiled softly at her phone. Her brother had always been quite mature. Maybe forced to if one argued it well enough. But now she was sure, he had definitely grown. She hummed quietly, looking over at her clock. She'd been awake for far too long now. "Look I don't know if she'll be back in Monaco soon or not. But you'll have to see her for the race next week, yeah? Maybe forget the 'show' part of things and instead tell her what you told me. Or better yet, call her."
Oscar blinked tiredly and nodded from his side. "Yeah, okay," he yawned his agreement. "Thanks, Hats. Goodnight."
Hattie chuckled gently. "Goodnight."
The incessant buzzing from your phone had gone on for a minute. The second one in an hour.
"Are you going to answer that or just stare at it?" Pedri queried, taking a seat next to you as he put a cup of lemonade down in front of you.
"Probably stare at it," you mumbled, lulling your head to the side with a pout, elicting a small chuckle from him. The name sprawled across your screen made your stomach churn. Because it only took one glimpse and suddenly you were back in Monaco. In the cold water. And he was right there. Close. Too close. Leaning down and...
You sighed sharply, reaching to grab your drink, the cold lemonade soothing your fingertips. Barcelona was hotter than you remembered. The training you had been doing here was lighter than what you had done in Monaco. But the heat had made it far worse.
You cleared your throat, turning to Pedri. "Can I ask you a question?"
"If it's about Nilo having a sibling then my answer is still on the fence."
You rolled your eyes, smiling. "Pedri," you said, giving him a pointed look.
He grinned quietly, leaning back on the couch, arms folded as they usually were. "Okay, okay. I’m all ears. What is it?"
"Why did you like me?"
Pedri blinked like he had misheard you. As though he had suddenly lost his hearing. "What?" He queried, brows mended.
You shifted in your seat, turning to face him head on. "When we were together... what made you go... 'Yeah, her,' you know?"
A moment of silence drifted in the air. He knew why you were asking. To reaffirm the disbelief you had been drowning yourself in. He swallowed tightly, moving himself, knee brushing yours before he settled down. "I'll answer your question. But first... why did you like me?"
You made a face. "What? What kind of stupid question is that? Why wouldn't I have liked you? You’re sweet and kind. You work hard. You have dreams like I do. You're a little bit stupid. And well, I was kind of in it for Nilo. Not to mention, you have a pretty good-looking face," you teased with a whisper.
He chuckled, head almost bowing down in your lap as his chest rumbled with amusement. A sigh fell from his lips while he looked up, shaking his head at you. "So what makes you think you I didn't see those things too? Your heart is good. You make me laugh. You always treat my parents like yours. And yes, Nilo does love you more than I do. But that's just that. You just did and I just do."
You bit your lip at the evident present tense. "I'm sorry," you murmured regretfully.
Pedri smiled gently, giving you a small shrug. "I'm not. Best two years of my life. I'm sure I'll get over it someday. But until then, I'm happy."
You mended your brows as Hattie's words came to mind. But a person in love is always the winner. You didn't understand what she meant at the time. But in this moment, you understood it.
Love, much like anything in the world, was whatever you let it be. If it was grief, it'd be grief you felt. Jealousy... if it were miserable and strenuous like the long years you had put into it... then it would be exactly like that.
But if you let love be love, regardless of the reciprocal feeling, then you'd be the one who’d enjoy it.
Of course, that was in a perfect world, where you weren't face with your dreams on the line.
Bzz! Bzz!
Both you and Pedri turned your heads to the coffee table where your phone lit up with the familiar name. You swallowed, staring at it as you had done before. You didn't think you could answer it right now. Maybe you'd just let it run again. He could leave a voice message or—
"Hello? You have reached ___'s phone—"
"Pedri!" You whisper-yelled, eyes wide, hand reaching out to grab your phone with futile efforts as his arms pushed you away.
"She is currently not available right now. Can I take a message?"
You stilled, horrified eyes watching Pedri's face while your ears perked at the sound of Oscar's voice.
"Uh, sure... can you tell her to call me back? It's important."
Pedri turned to you, raising his brow. "Important," he mouthed with a cheeky grin. More amused with the blank look on your face, he breathed in. "Of course. Oscar, right? I'll be sure to tell her when she gets back. Uh-uh. Bye."
You stared at your phone as Pedri put it back on the coffee table. Tongue in cheek, you turned back to him with a twitching eye. "Pedri..." You started calmly, "why the fuck would you do that?!"
Pedri's hands shot out once the couch pillows came hurling at him. "I—ow! Okay, okay!" He shouted, catching the last pillow in the air. He breathed hard, receiving your glare loud and clear. "You wanted to fix your problem, right? What’s worse than jealousy?"
You almost pouted, falling back into the couch with disbelief.
A PR-headache. That's what was worse.
"Catherine, I need you to defend me this weekend," you breathed, looking out at the Zandvoort track edging closer towards you.
"Sure." Catherine nodded absentmindedly in the car before she looked up from her laptop. "Wait, what? What happened? What did you do?"
You frowned, turning your head to her from the window. "Why are you assuming I did something?"
Catherine pointed a brow. "Well... did you?"
You pursed your lips. You hadn't told her about anything yet. You probably should have. But you didn’t want to make a mountain out of a mole hill. The more attention you gave this, the more of something it became. It was nothing. And it’d remain nothing.
"Just... keep me away from the McLarens. I don’t want to see any papaya this weekend if I can avoid it," you mumbled, leaning on the car door, feeling the vibrations of the road underneath you.
Catherine nodded slowly, biting down any comment coming to mind. "Duly noted."
Everywhere. The damn papaya was every-fucking-where.
You had first turned to have a small conversation outside the Mercedes' hospitality suite. Just a quick catch up with everyone on how their breaks had gone. But then, from the corner of your eye, you had seen them. Oscar and Lando in a conversation, walking towards their own suite, which was right past yours.
The moment you had made any sort of eye contact; it was a race to the front door. The humiliation had come pouring in almost instantly. Of what? That you weren't quite sure of. Of how you had reacted? Or of the fact it was Pedri who had picked up your phone.
You hadn't called him back. Obviously. You weren’t crazy enough to do so. You hadn't even formulated a text plan because every time you did, you found an excuse to delete it.
And from that very moment, Oscar had been everywhere. It was purposeful, you were sure. The slightly raised arm as he tried to approach you, attempting to catch you. It was like he was hot on your feet. You could barely lose him.
What part of 'defend' did Catherine not understand?
Qualifying had been the worst of it.
"Its Q3 and the headlines are as they have been all weekend! Car 8 versus the McLarens! Each a free practice topper. But it's Piastri and ___ who have been fighting for P1. Three minutes left and one more chance. The Mercedes is on provisional pole. Can Oscar Piastri take down the domineering Silver Arrow?"
Perhaps you had been of your game. With everything going on, you weren't as locked in as you usually were. Maybe the tyres. You had already done two Q3 laps on the softs. Perhaps there wasn't any more in them. Or perhaps he really had taken one hundredth of a second off you. Because no matter what you did, your last attempt had been your worst.
No significant improvement. Flirting with the curb. And a moment where you had gone wide.
"Piastri does it! Oscar Piastri takes pole in Zandvoort, and the Silver Arrow splits the McLaren dream team! With home driver Max Verstappen in P4, tomorrow's race start will be nothing short of interesting."
You swallowed as you wrung your car around the track, bringing back to the designated signs.
"Well that was—" Bono started on your radio line.
"Catastrophic?" You queried, grimacing at the sight of the papaya cars parked up ahead of you. You were going to have to get out of this car at some point.
The static clambered in your ears. "I was going to say it 'wasn't too bad' but..." He trailed off. "You'll get him tomorrow."
You hummed idly, lining your car with the P2 sign. The unbuckle of the seatbelts and removal your steering wheel had become some sort of art—smooth and easy as you got out of the car. You sighed, drifting towards the weighing scale before removing your helmet and balaclava, wind cooling on your burning skin.
Your heart paced at the papaya in the corner of your eye but soothed when you spotted the glimpse of tanner skin. "Nice lap," you commented, turning to Lando as you grabbed a bottle of water.
Lando chuckled softly. "Should say that to you. Driving a shitbox and yet you're P2. I heard a rumour you could get an Aston to P3. Wanna bet?"
You narrowed your eyes despite the smile on your face. "No more bets with you. I think your bets get me into trouble," you sighed, taking a greedy gulp of water while you watched Oscar get interviewed in your peripheral. You blinked as those brown eyes glided to you.
Lando pressed his smile down when you began coughing. "I bet they do," he commented.
You glared, wiping your mouth before you grabbed the Mercedes-embellished cap and shoved it onto your head. The tap on your shoulder marked you to get ready for the microphone while you stepped past Lando and begrudgingly inched towards Oscar.
Your eyes shook, darting place to place as the cheers began to settle and Oscar turned towards you, gaze unwavering while he pushed the microphone towards you. You smiled so tightly you thought your lips would fall off, lungs curling around a sharp breath as your fingers brushed one another in your endeavour to get it from him.
With your chest racing, you cleared your throat and stepped to the interviewer, focusing on the words being said rather than the brown eyes watching you from afar.
"I thought Sophie said to stop being so obvious," Lando said, standing next to his teammate and recalling the instructions he had been given on media day.
"I am," Oscar mumbled, readjusting his cap.
Lando raised a brow, turning his head to him. "You've been walking around like a puppy. And you’re literally standing here with heart eyes,” he sighed, shaking his head.
Oscar gave him a small glare before reverting his eyes back to you. He had already tried to talk to you beforehand. But the desperation had kicked in after Pedri had picked up your phone.
What the hell were you doing at Pedri's? Had he really misread things this badly?
"And lastly, what is it going to take to get past Oscar tomorrow? He's been quick all weekend."
You breathed in, pondering. That was the question you had been wondering for a while now. "A little bit of guts and a good pitstop?" You raised your brows, faint grin on your face as the small laughter erupted.
"The perfect recipe, right? Well, good luck for tomorrow. Thank you, ___."
You smiled, giving back the microphone while your head tilted, eyes searching for Catherine or anyone you could recognise while you began walking. Never in your life had you thought you’d actually wish to go to all your mandatory interviews. But here you were.
You swallowed tightly as the familiar shade of papaya caught up to you at last, manoeuvring the swarms of people just as well as you.
"You can't ignore me forever," Oscar murmured, walking side by side next to you.
You pursed your lips, eyes flickering over the crowd as Catherine finally appeared on the other side of you. You gave her a blank look, sucking in a sharp breath before barely turning your head to him. "I'm not ignoring you."
Oscar chuckled to himself. "Really? Because you can't even look me in the eye and the only time I can seem to catch you is in a moment like this," he retorted, perfectly well-reasoned and that irritated you. Of course he was.
He sighed at your silence as you both neared the conference room. "Look, I just... I'm confused, okay? N-Not about this. Us. I'm perfectly clear about how I feel. But we need to talk about that night. This. About Pedri."
You winced at the mention of his name, feet stopping in the corridor. You turned with another deep breath in. "Then I'll make it easier for you, Osc. Forget about it and I will too. And we'll still be good friends, I promise."
Oscar furrowed his brows. "Wait, what? What are you talking about?" He asked incredulously, oblivious to the poorly covered grimaces on Lando and Catherine's faces. "This isn't something I can just forget. W-Why are you making this so difficult for yourself?"
You bit your lip, eyeing the curious onlooks walking by. You looked back at Oscar with a sigh. "There is too much for me to lose, Oscar," you whispered, voice strained. "I waited for so long. Nothing happened. And that's okay. But when I used that time to get here and finally get to be something... you can't expect me to throw that away in a few seconds."
Oscar blinked, feeling the shift in the breeze as you walked past him silently. Stumped for a moment, it wasn't till Lando put a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, mate. Let's just get through the weekend."
Zandvoort had been catastrophic for McLaren. Or at least for Lando. An engine oil leak that had forced him to retire on lap sixty-five, letting his own fight in the championship take a blow. Additionally, Max had also been struggling in the Red Bull, and you had never quite made it past Oscar as intended.
The silver lining?
You had gotten to share a podium with Isack.
For a moment, you were able to breathe. Forget whatever problems you had been trying to solve or not solve for the past week or so. Because if you looked back at the pictures taken that day, you found the little versions of you and Isack staring right back. The ones that desperately wished to be in Formula One. And here you were, living your dreams.
It made Oscar think about your words as he looked at the two of you, both practically half in tears while you jumped with joy. This is what you had meant. What you had fought for to be here. To stand in front of a crowd and enjoy the same dreams you had with the people you had grown up with. At the same level. With no questions as to why you were there.
Truth be told, it had totally slipped his mind. The pressures you were facing. He was so caught up in his feelings that he hadn't stopped for a second and thought about what you would lose.
You were right. The headlines were already strange enough. They would have a field day ripping you apart. And he would probably get away scot-free. No damage done. His name intact as well as his reputation.
But why did they have to know? He meant what he had said. Romance wasn't dead if you could keep it just yours.
Besides, how could he forget? How could he just walk around and pretend that every fibre of him wasn’t calling to you? Like he wasn't thinking about you constantly or fighting the urge to openly hold your hand?
And it was in that split second; it dawned on him.
This was exactly how you had felt for all those years.
Monza looked the same as it usually did. Mostly covered in red, chanting Ferrari's name. You had been more consistent than last week. Topping free practice over and over again. You were sure people had tuned out by Q3 where you had crossed the line with the fastest time.
Always the collective sigh for Ferrari. You hoped one day that would change for them. But today was not that day.
After a long day, you had cooped yourself in your hotel room, trying to prepare for tomorrow. But the good news you had been waiting for had finally come, keeping you awake.
You gasped, almost instantly pouting at your screen. "There they are. My lucky charms," you whispered in awe, eyeing the two newborns. They were two sweet little girls. Healthy and oh so perfect.
Your aunt chuckled softly next to her husband while Nicole agreed behind the phone. "They just wanted to be here for your win, you know," she teased, exhaustion clear on her face.
"Whoa, stepping the gun there," you narrowed your eyes, grin still apparent. You sighed, settling in your chair, looking at your aunt with a little concern. "Are you feeling okay? Everything's fine? That must've been hard," you frowned.
Your aunt smiled gently. "I'm fine. They were a bit of pain," she grumbled, making you laugh quietly. She breathed deeply out, looking down at her children. "Worth it though," she murmured, squeezing Dylan's hand.
You watched softly, unexplainably happy. After she had sacrificed so much for you, this is what she deserved. A family that was hers. That didn’t make her work as tirelessly when she was unprepared to do so. And knew you, from the bottom of your heart, those two was in the safest hands ever to exist.
You blinked as one of them yawned quietly, making you smile. "I think this one's getting bored of you," Nicole teased behind the camera. "They're asking for Uncle Osc too."
You blinked, pursing your lips. "Can't we just add him to the call?" You sighed dramatically, not willing to move. Surprisingly, Oscar had kept a cautious distance from you within the past week, only talking when it was necessary. Though his gaze said something else entirely.
"___, go to Oscar," your aunt narrowed her eyes, catching your reluctance in an instance. Both her and Nicole had clearly been informed by Hattie, not playing by your rules so easily
You curled your lip, muttering something incoherent under your breath as you pushed yourself off your chair and unlocked your hotel door. "I'll call back," you waved at the camera, tucking your phone into your pocket, grabbing your keycard, and shoving your feet into your shoes.
You headed towards the elevator, punching the down button, leaving you waiting, foot tapping away on the floor. Of course, when everything was working out for you, now you were putting yourself in the position to meet him instead.
It didn't matter though, right? You said you'd be good friends with him. Nothing could possibly in a small meeting like this.
You blinked at the open elevator doors, taking a step forward and pushing the button for the floor below you. The journey short, you peeked your head into the familiar corridor once you arrived. He was down at the end. You forced yourself out of the elevator, inching slowly to the haunting door.
You eyed the number, pursing your lips with even more reluctance. But the thought of going back up and calling back with no Oscar terrified you even more. So you swallowed whatever pride you had left and knocked. The few seconds you waited felt like hours.
Your breath caught at the twist of the lock, expectant gaze loitering as Oscar opened the door. The surprise was evident in those brown eyes and yet your cheeks were flushing. you flashed the reminder in your head. Friends. Friends. Friends.
"___," Oscar breathed, smile soft.
You returned the gesture timidly, giving him an awkward brief wave. "Hey," you greeted, losing your ability to think. Wait. Why were you here again? Oh... right. "Uh, my nieces, a few hours old, are apparently already picking favourites. So... here I am."
He mended his brows before looking at your phone dangling in front of his face. The crease between his brows quickly eased in recognition. "Right, of course. Um, yeah. Come in," he nodded, stepping back to let you in.
You smiled tightly, removing your shoes as you unlocked your phone, calling Nicole back. Eyeing his room, you opted for the small coffee table and sofa in the corner, placing your phone against the complimentary vase and box of sweets Oscar had unbothered to open.
Oscar closed his door, not quite believing you were here in his hotel room, dressed in your pyjamas before race day. The daunting realisation he had in Zandvoort had made him want to try and live even a week of how you had felt. So he tried the whole maintained distance. Cautious and pining from afar. Of course, the blaring difference was that you weren't dating anyone. But Pedri's phone call was as close as it got.
What had he learnt?
It fucking sucked.
For every little thing, he had to think twice. About how it would be perceived. To hold back. To smile in secret. Fawn behind the cameras. To stand back when fans and so called 'journalists' were so obviously flirting with you.
He absolutely profoundly hated it.
"Oscar?"
He blinked at the call of his name, watching you point to your phone. Right. He cleared his throat, moving to take a seat next to you. Knees and arms brushing as he leaned in with a growing smile.
"Oh congratulations," he said, eyes melting over the two girls in frame. "They're beautiful."
You pressed your smile down. Oscar always sounded a little funny when he did these things. He never quite had that small little gasp that everyone else did. But the way he said things after... earnest and warm. You could always tell he meant it.
"Oh!" Nicole gasped as the very same twin beamed at the camera. "She totally loves Uncle Osc. Don't you!"
You frowned, leaning in next to him, showing little care to how close you were to him. "Hey, that's not fair. What about me?"
Nicole rolled her eyes. "One for Osc. One for you. Hattie and the rest will have to share," she heaved theatrically.
Oscar chuckled while you snorted. "What are their names?" He queried with curiosity making you realised you hadn't a clue either.
Your aunt smiled, looking between Nicole and Dylan. "I was wondering when you'd ask," she teased tiredly. "You wanna show them?"
"Of course," Dylan said, taking the phone from Nicole, shifting the camera over to the temporary nameboards. "Here they are."
You and Oscar leaned in together, narrowing your eyes at the small handwriting. Oscar, ever the faster reader, whipped his head to you, a gentle surprise washed over his face while you blinked once. Twice. And once more.
You rubbed your eyes in disbelief, hands beginning to shake a little as yout heart dropped in your chest. "Is that..." You trailed off, swallowing nervously. "You gave them my name as their middle name?" You whispered, looking over at Oscar to confirm.
He smiled, hand reaching to grab yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You bit your lip, turning back to the phone. "That's... That's really sweet," you murmured, voice strained, eyes stinging. “Thank you."
Your aunt reached gestured for the phone, watery smile on her face as she looked at you. "You are as much as my daughter as they are, yeah? I haven’t replaced you. Sister... aunt... whatever you wanna be. You're equally as mine."
You breathed in sharply, eyes no longer just stinging, vision blurred. You nodded rigidly, blowing some air into your face while you fanned your eyes. "God, it's so hot in here," you said, choked.
The eye roll from your aunt was on cue. "You two need sleep, yeah? Big day tomorrow. Now play nice. I don't want any drama out there."
You chuckled, sniffling. "Yeah. You get some sleep too. Tell me when you get home, okay? A-And call me. Even if you think it's really late," you mumbled, eyes still furiously watering.
"Okay, okay. Goodnight, honey. You too, Osc," your aunt smiled, waving at the camera with the twins and Dylan in frame.
Nicole grabbed the phone with that gentle, mothering smile she always had. "I'll keep you guys updated, hmm? Now go to bed, sweeties. Good luck for tomorrow."
You both waved goodbye as Oscar leaned in, cutting the call. He turned to you, brown eyes drifting to your hands and then to your face. He frowned at the rolls of silent tears dripping down your cheeks. "Hey, hey," he whispered, other hand reaching out to hold your face. "What's wrong?"
You shook your head, swallowing hard. "I just... that was really nice of her. She didn't have to do that. I don't deserve that after being such a big burden on her," you whispered, shaky eyes on your phone, still imagining the faint traces of everyone on the screen just seconds ago.
Oscar sucked in a sharp breath; chest weighed with an aching uneasiness. His hands both moved to curl around your body, bringing you closer while his chin rested over your head. "That's not true. You heard her," he softly said, hand rubbing your back soothingly. "You're always her's. Not a burden. Never a burden. You hear me?"
"Yeah," you nodded, voice muffled against his chest. You wiped your damp cheeks, sniffling once again. You began shifting up, head lifting. You rubbed your temples, exhaustion still seeping through your body after today. "Probably should get some sleep."
"Sleep here."
You blinked, looking at him pointedly. "You and I both know that's not a good idea."
Oscar tilted his head. "Do we?" He queried, standing up from the sofa. He stretched his hand out towards you. "It's just sleeping."
You pressed your lips together, sore eyes peering at him. You could've easily stood up and walked out. One elevator ride up was all there was between you and your own bed. It would've been safer to listen to your brain.
But in moments like these, your heart, fraudulent as ever, acted out of its own will.
"Okay."
Oscar breathed in at the feel of your hand gliding into his palm, pulling you up swiftly, leaving barely any room between the both of you. For a moment he stared. It was warm and soft. And after deciding it was long enough, wordlessly he brought you along to his bed.
He left you for a brief second, turning off the lights. And through the rays of moonlight from his window, he could see your shadowed figure move and shift under his duvet. His steps were cautious, still navigating this unfamiliar room as he found himself on the opposite side of the bed.
You could feel the mattress dip next to you while you laid on your back, staring at the ceiling quietly, fingers fidgeting with an oddly calm nervousness. Even inches away, you could feel the heat radiate from his body. You could see him turn on his side from the corner of your eye. You copied him, tucking your hand against your cheek.
You smiled gently at the hints of moonlight fawning over Oscar's face. "Goodnight, Osc," you whispered.
six thousand followers!! entirely beyond what i thought i would ever achieve on here! i'm so happy so many people have discovered my work and that we can share a passion over sports and writing! errors and all, thank you for putting up with me, my breaks, and slow updates. all your reblogs and comments are super motivating and appreciated ♡︎
agenda:
⠂⠄⠄⠂☆ steal my girl - op81 and ka12 s|a|f
kimi has everything oscar has ever wanted. and oscar knows kimi doesn’t deserve any of it. not the praise. not the wins. and especially not you. so when the envy becomes too much, oscar decides he’ll take it all from him. every single last thing that makes kimi happy. even if that means taking you.
⠂⠄⠄⠂☆ keep you high pt 2 - '25 rookies f|s
work and pleasure… they say to never mix it. but those fan-gifted chocolates changed your lives. and with summer break coming, the boys get a little creative with a beach getaway.
⠂⠄⠄⠂☆ young and beautiful - ka12 f
"you're too young for her." that's what everyone had told him when he laid eyes on mercedes' newest recruit. but a man that yearns is a man that earns.
⠂⠄⠄⠂☆ desi girl - al41 f
another cousin, another wedding. that was arvid's current lifestyle. racing and goddamn weddings. the only difference about this one was that this one had you.
⠂⠄⠄⠂☆ mr sandman - mv3 f|s
returning home from a race, max comes back to find you in bed. asleep, naked, and moaning. you've talked about it before. tonight, he plans to make those pretty little dreams of yours come true.
⠂⠄⠄⠂☆ sweet like candy - ob87 f|s
roommates and a little something more has left you frustrated when you can't take matters into your own hands. so you do the worst you can think of: interrupt ollie during his sim session.
a/n: so six fics for six thousands followers!! they won't be out all at once but i promise they'll be done EVENTUALLY! will it be in order? idk. i have commitment issues w/ writing // these are technically requests but with that being said... unfree student me wouldn't have even considered but i'm semi-free rn and the timing aligns :3
SUMMARY: with the upcoming races cancelled, alex finds ample time to become a sudden staple in your life.
WARNINGS: teasing, little angst, mention of an emergency birth, poor humour, desi culture (food and fighting), honestly a very triggering mother, alex and reader being domestic, 18+ smut (minors dni), p in v, eating out, fingering, unprotected sex, blowjob, car sex, semi-public sex // not proofread
A/N: another chapter!!! "finally," i hear you scream!
🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist | 🥂 anyone but you
Things after China had taken quite a drastic turn once the cancellation announcement of the races in Saudi Arabia and Bahrain were released. Alex no longer was in constant meetings or jets. No longer training as efficiently in this sudden spring break of sorts.
No. Instead, he was in you.
For every second he could get his hands on you. Not incessant by any means. It was like gravity. A natural law of the world that left him gravitating towards you. You had lost count of how many times you had seen each other in the past few days alone. And where you had committed your sinful acts.
Your car had seen it all in the middle of the night right after work.
"Oh fuck! Alex," you moaned, teeth tearing into the fabric over his shoulder while your fingers curled tightly around the grab handle of your car as he slammed into you, pants half slung down, urgency in every stride.
The windows were fogged despite the near spring weather, heat pouring from your bodies uncontrollably. The back seat was cramped for the both of you, particularly Alex considering how big he was. But nothing seemed to stop you two. Parked almost nowhere, you knew a passerby would know exactly what was happening.
Everything seemed to cling to you. Your scrubs. Your dishevelled hair. Him.
Alex's mouth quirked at your implied praise. "That's it, sweetheart," he grunted, coil in his stomach tightening at every clench of your dripping cunt around hm. His thumb worked smoothly against your prodding bundle of nerves; hand covered in your slick.
The singe of your teeth into his skin made his cock jump. God, you felt so good. So fucking wet. And it was all because of him. You felt good because of him, and it drove him crazy.
"Not tired are you now, pretty girl? Making you feel all better," Alex hummed with huffed breaths, brings his lips to your mouth while his fingers dug into your waist, skin spilling from those confines.
"No," you agreed with a deep mewl, eyes clenching at the filthy squelch slamming in and out of you. No. You were so fucking awake now. You were positive those stars in the night sky weren’t just any normal stars.
A chuckle fell from his lips. "You wanna cum, sweetheart?" He coaxed, heart unfurling in his lower stomach. He burned at your strained moan. "Yeah? Go on. It's not the only one you're getting tonight."
Those runs of his were awful. After staying over, because you did that now, it was him you came back home to, sweating after he had taken a run around your area. And something about that tight fitting muscle shirt and the beads of sweat glistening down on his brown skin made your toes curl.
Alex's hand wrapped your silky tresses with bare restraint, knees weak and practically cowering as he stood against your fridge, long cock stuffed in your mouth, head tilted towards the ceiling in disbelief.
You had barely given him any time to pull those shorts of his down; lips wrapped around him in seconds. Your throat, accustomed to him, welcomed every inch, moans sending vibrations down his shaft.
"Shit," Alex groaned, heart skipping as he found your glassy eyes staring back at him. The coldness of your fridge door now warm against his backside. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, eyes fluttering. Oh God... you were killing him.
Choking on a breath, he gasped, "If I needed motivation for running—ngh—fuck, I've got it now."
You hummed your approval, taking him deeper and deeper till he was flushed to your mouth, trimmed hairs barely scratching you.
An uneven noise fell from his lips while Alex fought not to collapse so soon. The pleasure seemed to build quickly. He couldn't help it. With your warm mouth and tight throat and the smell of jasmine swirling around him... he was gone for.
The most heinous places of all was your very own café. The one sacred place you had. A safe haven from the chaos and mess of the hospital now tainted with your muffled moans, Alex's large hand around your mouth, and his own teeth sinking down into your shoulders to keep quiet.
It was unsanitary. God, it was so unsanitary. The café bathroom was barely a level up from a public bathroom. Yet here you were. Pressed up against the sink, cold ceramic digging into your stomach, fingers gripping the corners of countertop tightly as Alex took you from the back.
You couldn't muster the courage to even look at the damn mirror in front of you, using all your efforts to keep your moans quiet as possible. But fuck, it was difficult with every knock of his tip against the deepest parts of you, dragging almost all the way out before driving back in, right to the hilt.
Your eyes clenched tightly, body cowering over the sink in disbelief as the sheer pleasure coursing through you. And his fingers pressing into your cheeks while he covered your mouth made it no better. Other hand gripping your waist like you'd disappear if he didn't.
Alex was in no better position. Marking you with the indents of his teeth to cover every grunt and curse threatening to burst out of him. It was terrible. Hot breaths escaping and fawning over your shoulder, smell of jasmine burning into his nose flushed near your neck. The controlled grind of his hips, careful to not make any more noise than necessary.
Your struggle drove him insane. The whiny, muffled moans strangled in your throat when he sped up. The irresistible pull of your cunt around him while time loomed over the both of you as a threat.
This was sickening, he was sure of it.
But fuck, it felt so good.
It wasn't like you were particularly innocent either. Taking every opportunity you got to tease him. A supposed coffee outside turned into your hand inching a little too closely to his inner thigh. The purposeful choices of clothing that left him practically drooling at the table. Or now, where you had so coyly walked around your apartment without any panties under the claim it was laundry day.
It was.
You writhed under Alex's hover, head digging into your couch harshly as his fingers pushed into your cunt mercilessly, long digits coaxing all the rights spots like he had memorised them. Every smooth rub and curl making your hand tighten around his forearm. God, you were so close.
This was your third of the morning.
"If you wanted me to help you, all you had to do was ask, sweetheart," Alex rasped, blown pupils thriving at the wet squelch of you soaking his hand. The smell of sex had become dizzying in your apartment.
"Don't need to walk around naked as an excuse."
You wanted to refute those outrageous claims. But you couldn't quite seem to. Your breath hitched at the rub of his fingers on the spongy part of you, body beginning to lock up. "A-Alex," you choked out, brows mending when you looked at him.
A faint smirk tugged onto his lips. "Again?" He teased though he knew the tight clench around his fingers all too well. The chuckle from his throat was smooth like velvet. "Come on then. Cum for me, sweetheart."
Your mouth fell open as the pleasure hit you once again, striking you in a way you never could quite wrap your head around. There was no toy... no other fingers that made you feel like this. As if you were on the brink of heaven.
Alex had become selfish. Not letting you rest for too long before he collapsed over you, attaching his mouth directly onto your dripping cunt with a savouring moan. The sound rippled over you, sensitivity high while your legs quavered around his head, undeciding on whether to keep him tethered or to push him away.
But your mind seemed to know. Hand travelling to those dark locks to keep him place.
"Fuck," you moaned, hips jerking with every dart of his tongue and suckle of his mouth against your puffy folds. The sweat had lined your body in thin sheets, air warm and cold at the same time. You could barely think now.
"Taste so fucking good," Alex grunted, slurps obscene and lewd as the last one while his fingers sunk into your bare thighs, holding you still. Addiction wasn't the word to describe you. You were like oxygen. Needed for his survival.
Your breath stuttered, whimpers and mewls choked with every knock of his nose against your clit and the prod of his tongue in your hole. Your hips moved on their own, lurching up for more and more, greedier than ever.
You had no control.
Alex's cock throbbed at the tightening of your thighs around his head, scalp burning at the grip of your fingers in his hair. He practically nodded into your cunt. "Cum," he said, voice muffled. A command coated in the sweetness of encouragement. "Wanna taste you, pretty girl."
"Jesus, fuck," you cursed, white taking over your visions as your hips lifted up, seeking the maximum sliver of euphoria to hit you. Your body convulsed against his mouth, nerves all over the place while his tongue curled around your clit.
Unstable. You were so unstable. But he held you, hands never quite letting go from your thighs while he drank every last drop of you, not wasting a mere inch.
You gasped for air, lungs demanding for it all as Alex's head came up from your legs, face shining in your slick. Your hazed eyes fell to him, tiredness creeping onto your face.
Evidently, he was not feeling it, grin wide on his face while he swiped your arousal with his fingers, licking them clean. He leaned back down, meeting your eyes. "Don't start tempting me around here," he murmured, still grinning before planting a kiss on your lips.
You swallowed tightly, heart skipping as you rested your head back down on the couch. Watching him through your peripheral, he resumed his normal routine—breakfast from the limited groceries you had both feasted on. Your stomach churned at the sight. You sighed quietly, rubbing your face with your hand.
Christ.
"And that my dearest friends is how you do a hole-in-five," George announced with a proud smile settling onto his face. He gave you three a dramatic bow, metal club clumsily clanging against the grass as he did so.
"More like a hole-in-fifteen," Carmen snorted under breath, turning over to you with her arms folded. She gave you a pointed look. "Not that he’d ever admit it."
You pursed your lips, still trying to decipher the situation you were currently in. A random Thursday. The one day you had off this week. And you were here. On endless acres of green grass with the probably the most boring sport known to mankind. Well, at least you thought so.
Apparently, George and Alex didn't quite think so.
Your eyes drifted towards Carmen, narrowing the amused look on her face. Hmm...
"What?" Carmen queried, tilting her head at you, quickly picking up on the dubious expression sprawled over your face. You were thinking a little too much for her liking.
You mimicked her folded arms. "You think I don't know what you're doing?"
"Playing golf?" She answered slowly, mending her brows.
"Cute becomes dumb in an instant, Carmen," you retorted, turning as Alex lined himself up against his club. "This is double-date behaviour," you deducted with a miserable grumble.
You should've seen the signs. It had been like this for the past week or so. With George also in England, the meetings had been incessant. Board games with the four of you. A visit to the art gallery up the road from their house. Lunch at your café during your break because apparently seeing them almost every other second wasn’t enough.
"This isn't double-date behaviour," Carmen lied. Goddammit. She should've known you'd see through it. It was George's idea after all. If it was her masterpiece, she wouldn't have gotten caught. "This is just four friends hanging out."
"Good," you replied after a beat, though you tell she was entirely fibbing. "Because that's what this is. Just because we're... whatever-ing, doesn't mean you have to make it a thing out of it."
Carmen tongued her cheek, biting back from pointing out the obvious. Mornings, breakfast, and a spare key together was definitely, at the very least, something if not a thing of itself. "Duly noted," she smoothly said, keeping her grin at bay as Alex came back walking towards you, golf ball in hand and his club in another.
You raised a brow at the eager-eyed expression he gave. You could put two-and-two together easily. "Yeah... not happening."
Alex's shoulders slumped, sigh dramatic as ever. "Oh come on," he groaned. "You'll enjoy it. I promise."
You breathed in before pursing your lips. "Alex, I mean this with the kindness of my heart and no offence to George, but this is an old white man’s timepass."
George blinked, arm resting on the rod of his club. "I'm not even that old yet—"
"And I agree," Alex nodded, smile sweet and encouraging regardless. "But... it's really fun. Unless you're like... afraid you'll lose or something."
Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, eye twitching at the smug smirk plastered right across his face. Oh what you would've given to slap it right off. A begrudging sigh escaped your throat. Jutting your hand out, you gave him a bland look. "Give me the damn stuff."
The smirk on his face deepened as he inched closer, putting the club and ball towards your chest before his hand smoothly slid to the small of your back, guiding you closer to the tee planted firmly nearby. You sighed with annoyance, bending down to rest the ball on the tee, unaware of the sharp breath Alex sucked in.
Damn skort left him with little to imagine.
Clearing his throat, his hand fell to your forearm. "Okay, so move your legs a little, hmm? You’re gonna swing—"
"I know damn well you're not mansplaining golf to me," you muttered, darting your eyes over your shoulder, peering up at him with a stern look despite the burn of his fingertips into your arm.
Alex blinked. "I... You need to know how to play though. I—"
"Alex, sweetheart. I'm goddamn doctor," you stated, smile tight and sickly sweet. "Golf is child's play. It's physics. Nothing more. Nothing less."
Alex's narrowed his eyes on you. Cute and maddening. He sighed, turning you back to the front. "Flex your knees. Bend your hips like this," he quietly murmured, moving his hand around your waist in ways that felt anything but innocent.
You clenched your jaw. "I know how to move—"
"And keep your fingers like this."
"Alex—"
"Club this way and... swing!"
The silence was deafening. Birds' squawking filled the air instead. You barely got a word out, watching the club tuck deeply into the dirt, raising it along with the grass into the air as your ball pathetically rolled only a metre or two away from you.
You eyed the stagnant ball before turning to Alex, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "Alex Albon. A connoisseur of golf. Thank you for that, Alex. Really. It was beautiful."
Alex practically looked affronted; mouth gaping, eyes widening. "Me? You're the one who wouldn’t take my help!"
"Well, I wouldn't have needed it! If it wasn’t for your stupid hands—"
The gasp in the air was beyond dramatic.
"Stupid? That was not what you were saying this—"
"Alex!"
George tilted his head, watching the scene in front of him unfold with his wife. He mended his brows, leaning down to Carmen. "Maybe you should put your hundred into some savings. Get some interest on it."
Carmen glared at her husband, whacking his arm with irritation though she would almost be obliged to agree. Almost.
Mornings, breakfast, a spare key, and a little bit of arguing.
The perfect recipe for nothing to be a something.
You sighed, eyes still heavy with exhaustion from work. The night shift had put out all the works this time. Understaffed with some of the worst cases you could imagine. Even worse. No Sam to make you sane through it all.
You stared at the ghost town in your fridge. A quarter jug of milk left. Three slices of bread. A single carrot. And a door full of only condiments.
"Seriously," you grumbled, leaning on the door with a frown. A grocery run wasn't even enough. You’d need bulk buy it all at this rate. With another deep sigh, you grabbed the milk jug and closed the fridge. Tea it was.
Your ears perked at the sound of your door opening; your spare key lodged in Alex's hand as he entered your apartment.
Alex grinned quietly, taking his headphones out of his ears. "You're back," he said, noticing the dreary smile stretching onto your face as you inched towards the kitchen. His eyes followed you while he unlaced his shoes, keeping them on your newly invested shoe shelf (you didn't usually have many shoes at the front but these days a certain someone made them endless).
"Wait, wait," Alex quickly interjected, spotting you place the milk jug down on the kitchen counter.
You raised a brow, turning back to him, finding him already stepping closer. "What?"
"Teach me how to make It."
You blinked. taken aback. Maybe you needed to go to bed already. "Huh?" You dumbly said.
Alex chuckled softly. "You're tired. I'm not. You make your tea a specific way. Teach me how," he reasoned with a satisfied breath.
You pursed your lips at the mere idea. Arguably, there was something far more intimate and vulnerable in teaching Alex one of the few things that brought you peace in the world. It was your thing. Your handmade solution to the problems in life.
On the other hand... getting him to do it for you did sound appealing.
You sucked in a sharp breath, hand flying to your hip. "It would be more beneficial to send you to get more food for my fridge. You have the appetite of a lion," you remarked blankly, blaming him entirely for your empty fridge.
He rolled his eyes, unbothered to make any attempt to deny it. He let out a small sigh. “We’ll go later. Now come on," he nudged you gently with his elbow, slotting himself next to you, brown eyes raking over your kitchen counter. "Show me how."
You pursed your lips, too tired to argue or make up another excuse. "Fine," you agreed, reaching over to grab the small pot nearby, stabilising it over your stove as you begun to instruct him.
"So..." Alex said after a few minutes, watching the water full of cinnamon sticks, ginger, and cardamom simmer, steeping in the flavour. He turned to you, leaning against the counter, arms folded. "How was your day?"
Your eyes darted between the stove and him. So that's where you were now. 'Honey-I'm-home' type questions.
You swallowed, mind churning through your recollection of today's events. "Chaotic," you started, wincing as the memories you shoved away began to hit you once again. "I should've known it would be when I walked in. It was so quiet. Then we had a nurse shortage—that was expected. Then I had no Sam for my sanity, followed by our asshole surgeon who thinks he’s top shit for existing, ordering me around like I was a speck of dirt," you grimaced.
Alex frowned. "I'm sorry. That sounds awful."
You snorted at his concern, shaking your head as you eyed the stove. "That's normal stuff. Unfortunately," you muttered bitterly before blinking. "Though there was one good thing about today."
"Oh?" He raised a brow, body turning towards you with interest, ears perked. He could spot the smile already easing onto your face, making him mirror the same image. "What was it?"
"We had an emergency C-section," you whispered, half with excitement and the other with awe. "I mean don't get me wrong. Circumstantially, it was awful. But we had two whole new lives. The mother and the kid," you breathed, laughing softly. "I don't think I took a breath until we finished. Poor baby wasn't crying. Freaked us all out. But when he did... that collective breath we all took... it was beautiful really."
Alex's gentle smile deepened. That was beautiful. And the way you talked about it, even more so.
"Add tea leaves and reduce the heat," you reminded, spotting the rich burgundy colour seeping through the water.
Blinking, he followed your instructions, acutely aware of your peering gaze. He stirred the mixture briefly, resting the spoon on its side as he turned back to you. He pressed his lips together. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Go on," you hummed idly.
"Why the ED?"
You paused, looking over at him from the stove. "What?" You queried like you hadn't heard him correctly.
"Why did you choose emergency medicine? Not... I don't know... neurosurgery or orthopaedics like Sam?" Alex asked, intently watching you.
You almost frowned at the sight. He looked at you so... deeply. Like he actually cared about what you were going to say. Clearing your throat, you looked away, eyeing the odd bits in your kitchen while you spoke. "I don't really have the nice answer you're looking for, Alex. It didn't call to me, nor do I have a sappy story."
"I don't mind hearing the worst of it."
You darted your eyes to the side, still capturing his gaze through your peripheral. You breathed in tightly, shrugging. "It keeps me busy. Away from them."
He mended his brows. "From... your parents?"
You nodded after some time, looking over at the simmering water. "I figured... if I was always busy then I wouldn't have to see them all the time," you murmured, tinges of shame flushing your cheeks. You bit your lip at the deafening silence. You had never admitted it out loud. Not even on Matching Day, where your parents looked at you confused.
"Probably should add the milk and sugar," you mumbled, watching him do just that wordlessly. You swallowed tightly as the need to explain overwhelmed you like an overflowing container. “It’s tough, you know? I'm everything they want me to be and it's never enough. I know they’ve sacrificed everything for me but it's like my life isn’t mine. And my mother never lets me forget it. It's exhausting. I mean every day, it's the same old thing. My goddamn future. But... I'm horrible daughter so I guess it doesn't matter."
The frown on Alex's face was immediate. There was no dry look on your face. No inch of humour. As though you had internalised all of what you had experienced and truly believed it. All he could see was the tired pain drowning you out.
You blinked at the feel of Alex's hand cupping your cheek, other hand tucking a loose tress behind your ear. Your chest stumbled at the warm brown eyes looking back at you. "Well, I for one, am glad you're in the present. You are perfect just the way you are. You've worked hard and you’re surviving. You are right where you're meant to be. Don't let anyone ever take that away from you."
Although you didn't show it, your heart clenched miserably. Always on the brink, tiptoeing the line of destruction and reconstruction. And it was like he had reached out, all on his own accord, and offered a piece of his for you to take.
"Thank you," you merely whispered, not quite trusting the thickness in your voice.
Alex smiled tightly, nodding slowly. "Anytime," he murmured, leaning in to kiss the side of your head.
You breathed in, calm and composed as you could be. Like every nerve of yours hadn't been tampered or altered. "Now turn off the stove. Don’t go burning my tea, Alex. I barely have enough milk as it is," you teased, giving him a small nudge despite the lingering ghost of his kiss on your head.
He chuckled softly, stepping back from you, eyes travelling to your fridge before he looked back at you. "Let's hit the stores after this, yeah?"
You pursed your lips in thought. "Can I sleep on the way? And on the way back?"
He rolled his eyes, corners of his mouth quirking up. "Never."
"I can help you, you know," you said to Alex, dazed eyes falling down to the mounds of heavy bags full of enough food to last you a month. But Alex... a week or two tops.
Alex smiled effortlessly as you both waited for the elevator door to open. "Funny how these hands can do a lot more than make you scream for more," he hummed, dancing his fingers around the bag straps, grin now widely stretched onto his face.
You blinked, face dropping despite the flush in your cheeks. You sucked in a sharp breath of annoyance, fingers clutching the railing tightly as the sickening motion finally came to an end.
"On second thought, I think you can open the door on your own," you retorted dryly, folding your arms as you stepped out of the elevator swiftly, hips moving with purpose.
He swallowed tightly, brown eyes falling to the action. "O-Okay, I'm not Scarlet Witch," he deadpanned, eyes slightly widened with hurry as he followed after you. "I take it back! Just open the—oomf!"
Alex blinked, ingrained reflexes working overtime when you suddenly stopped in middle of the corridor. With furrowed brows, he peered over you curiously. "What are you—" He cut his own words off, looking at the figure standing outside your door.
Your mother.
You pressed your lips together tightly, hands falling to the side. "Ma," you greeted curtly, inadvertently telling Alex you hadn't resolved anything with your mother since the last time you had seen her.
You still hadn't apologised for storming out of the house, not that you had to, but it had solidified whatever horrid image of you she had managed to draw up. Of course, she hadn't apologised either. You were pretty sure neither of you knew how to. And if you had gotten your stubbornness from anywhere, it was definitely from the source.
You didn't want to fold first. At least not so easily.
But looking at the bag of food in her hand, you wondered if this was her way of doing so.
"Mrs ____."
You blinked at the sound of Alex's voice, reminding you how you had gotten into the situation in the first place. Alex. Your lovely neighbour. The neighbour you wanted your mother to stay away from as far away as possible.
You breathed in, turning on your feet to meet Alex with a pinched smile. "Thank you for your help, Alex. I think I've got it from here," you muttered, prying the bags out of his reluctant hands. You gave him a small glare, nudging him to let go.
Alex begrudgingly obliged, unhappiness clear on his face. "Right," he nodded slowly, taking a slow step back.
"Don't be rude, beta," your mother's sharp voice drifted into the air, directed at you like a knife. She smiled behind you at Alex. "Come in."
You sucked in a tight breath, eyeing the corridor floor with much more interest. "I'm sure he's busy," you retorted, forcing yourself to turn around, lifting your gaze to meet your mother's.
Alex silently watched the both of you, torn between his options. It was clear you didn't want him anywhere near your mother, for whatever reason. But it was your mother asking him. "I... I don’t mind."
Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. You were going to kill him.
"Go take a shower and come back for some proper food," your mother ordered, tucking away the containers she had brought into your fridge, lined up with your newly bought groceries.
Your lips parted in disbelief, eyeing her back with the annoyance that had been simmering for weeks now. Fuck, this was humiliating. You stepped forward, something not so nice right on the tip of your tongue before you felt Alex's hand fall to the small of your back.
His head dipped down, voice barely above a whisper. "Just go. I got it."
You turned your head to him, giving him a resigned look. But he remained determined. "Go," he mouthed.
He watched you sigh almost audibly, turning on your foot to head to your bedroom to get a pair of spare clothes. He sucked in a sharp breath, shoulders slightly relieved at the temporary avoidance of disaster. He turned back to your mother, eyes flickering to the counter of groceries. Inching closer, he grabbed the two jugs of milk, making his way towards the fridge.
"She bought a lot of food," your mother commented after a quiet minute, organising her dishes. "Enough for two people," she chuckled.
Alex almost choked on his spit, composing a polite smile onto his face. "I think she said she'll prepare stuff for the rest of the month," he commented idly, grabbing the vegetables for the drawers near the bottom.
"Hmm," she hummed quietly, moving to sort the items for the pantry. "How are you, Alex? How is the building treating you?"
He swallowed, closing the fridge after a minute or two. "Uh, good. Yeah, good," he nodded, tongue clinging to his teeth as he searched for more words. "Fourth floor treats me well. Peace and quiet. It's nice... from all the noise, you know?"
Your mother tipped her head in agreement, brows mending as she turned from the groceries. Her head tilted. "I thought you lived on the fifth floor?"
Alex blinked. What?
Was this not... shit—the fourth floor was your floor.
Fuck.
He chuckled awkwardly. "Did I say forth? I meant fifth. Sorry. All these days without racing… I can’t function," he muttered, scratching the back of his head, sweat picking up on his skin.
He knew he was the one who told you to go and shower but fuck, he hoped you'd be finished soon. He going to crumble under your mother's pressure without even knowing it.
"They cancelled it, right? The news said something about it," she mumbled, eyeing the pad krapao sauce mix she had pulled out of the bag. You and Thai food? Strange.
Alex pulled his lip between his teeth, soul beginning to leave his body. He was going to make it for you, goddammit. He blinked at your mother's raised brow, reminding him of her question. He nodded quickly. "Yeah... uh, they cancelled two races. Unfortunate but it was a good decision."
"When do you go back?" She asked, slotting the packet into your shelf of spices and sauces.
"May. I'm still training, of course," he said, grabbing some of the empty reusable bags to fold. "I'm just here for... my family. Training and family. How interesting right?" He sarcastically said, overcompensating for the stressed nerves in his brain.
"Very interesting," your mother murmured in response, watching him put your empty bags into the fourth drawer, full of all the other ones.
Your eyes flitted over your dining table awkwardly, brain still trying to decipher the presence of your mother and Alex in one room. Could’ve been your father here but no. It just had to be your mother.
"Alex, have you ever had avial?" Your mother queried, sharp eyes moving to you, gesturing you to serve him the dish she had made yesterday.
You held in your eye roll, standing from your chair, getting a few spoonfuls of the vegetable stew for him onto his dish, adding some rice soon after.
"Uh, no," he mumbled, giving you a small smile. "Smells amazing though. Is that coconut?"
Your mother smiled, impressed. "You have good sense of smell," she praised, hand lifting once you served her some as well, indicating she had enough on her plate. She breathed in, looking back at Alex. "It's like a vegetable stew. I know you Brits like stew. This one is healthier."
You almost made a face as you sat down. It was coconut. A child could smell that from miles away. Someone like Alex didn't need his ego getting any bigger.
"Well, it looks amazing."
"Thank you," your mother commented. Her lips parted, eyes falling to his plate. "Did you want to get him a spoon? We normally eat with our hands, you see."
You blinked, automatically standing but Alex's hand reached out, keeping you seated in your chair. You swallowed at the action, moving your arm away from him quickly, not letting him linger any second longer.
"I'm okay. Hands are fine," he smiled, brown eyes drifting from you and your arm, bringing himself closer to the table.
The conversation fell into place easier than you liked. Every sentence light like it was casual. And you hadn't said a word. You couldn't bring yourself to. For every second that passed, you replayed that night in your head.
The words that had been said because of the person next to you. The harsh allegations that had been hurled at you from the person across you. And here they were. Having a conversation. Your mother acting like you hadn't fundamentally crossed Alex off any possible future, entertaining him with intentions unknown to you.
"___," you mother's voice erupted into the air after some time had passed. Her eyes glossed over your mostly empty plate, representing how little you had been saying. "How was work?"
You pursed your lips, rounding the grains of avial-laden rice with your hand. "Fine," you murmured vaguely, bringing the mouthful up towards yourself, opting not to tell her the version you had given Alex just hours ago.
Alex held in his wince, brown eyes cautiously looking over you. Not as though you were a ticking time bomb. But with the same ache in his chest. You were more fundamentally upset than angry even if you didn't know it. Somewhere, under this toughened persona, was the very woman who had willingly (though reluctantly) your problems on the phone that night and just a few hours ago.
He watched your mother's mouth open, some sort of loose insult on the tip of her tongue, aimed and loaded. Some comment on how you shouldn’t speak like this when guests were around. Or just another "Don't be rude," ready to be quipped.
"It must've been a long day," he quickly cut in with a tight smile, meeting your slightly surprised gaze peering back at him. He smiled deeper. "Work can be like that, hmm?"
You breathed in at his small nudge to your arm, swallowing your mouthful slowly. Nodding casually, you reached over for some water, momentarily meeting your mother's gaze. Although light, it was careful the way it always was. Telling you to get your act together. To stop being so childish.
Surrender.
You did nothing of the sort, taking a sip of water before you leaned back in your chair. The sit back goaded her, forcing her to remember what exactly had brought you to this very position.
"Thank God she has a great neighbour though!" Alex joked, his attempt at lightening the mood. "Even offered to help her with her groceries. What are you ever going to do without me?" He sighed dramatically, turning his head to you.
You rolled your eyes, stubborn in preventing the quirk of your lips as you pushed your chair back. Grabbing your cleared plate, you headed towards the kitchen's sink, aware of the look of disapproval on your mother's face. Allowing your small grin to stretch onto your face, you shook your head.
Idiot.
"I know and I'll bring them," Alex huffed, phone jammed between his ear and shoulder as he handed you the plate he had just washed. "If I forget them then we can just get them when I reach. They're balloons, Zoe," he sighed.
You pursed your lips, preventing the smile from sprawling on your face, drying the water away. Your mother had returned back home which was great news for you. You didn't exchange anything on the drive back. Pure silence for a chance of apologising. But neither one of you had committed to it.
When you had come back to the apartment, Alex hadn’t said a word about it. He didn't press it. Although you were sure he wanted to. He just held up a tea towel and said, "I'll give you drying duty because I feel generous."
And now you were partially overhearing a conversation with him and his sister. Well... lecture was more like it.
"Do you have such little faith in me?" Alex exasperated, hands paused over the last dish with a frown, soap suds dripping into the sink. "Yes, I will pay you back the one pound," he deadpanned, eyes rolling. "Okay. Bye. Good night."
A sigh flew past his lips, giving you a thankful smile as you took the phone from him and rested it aside while he resumed cleaning the dish.
"What was that?" You queried, putting your dry plate away.
He shook his head, still amused by the call. "That," he started, rinsing the dish, "was the sound of true siblinghood. Damn brats think I'm so old I can’t even bring water balloons tomorrow," he muttered, handing you the now-clean plate.
You blinked, raising a brow as you brought the tea towel up. "Oh... you're going tomorrow?"
Alex dried his hands on a nearby towel, head nodding. "Yeah. For Songkran remember?"
You pursed your lips. Now that you thought about it, he had mentioned it. At some point. Between one position and another. You weren't sure. Things had become blurry before you had even known it.
Alex was sure you had no idea about the small frown on your face as you dried your plate in deep thought. It was yet another one of those things that made him want to fall to his knees. The mere idea of you even being a little bit sad he was leaving was a win.
But the more he thought about it, the more he thought about leaving you alone in your apartment with your mind not quite in the right place. After your mother's visit, he wasn't sure he liked leaving you by yourself, even though he knew you were more than capable of it. So the words came flying out of his mouth.
"Do you want to come with me?"
You paused, resting the plate back in its proper place, turning your head to him. "Huh?"
He swallowed, cursing the sudden clamminess of his fingers. "To celebrate with my family. I mean, you don't have to, I was just offering and like I totally get if you don't want to and—"
"Sure."
"—it's not like a big de—wait what?" Alex blinked. "Really?"
You narrowed your eyes, heat pouring into your cheeks. "You're the one who asked. Unless you don’t want me to then—"
"No! Please come. I would love for you to come," he coughed slightly, brain jumbled at your acceptance, heart pacing at the thought of you and his family in one place. He cleared his throat, breathing in before giving you a composed smile. "We would love for you to join us."
You pursed your lips, nodding slowly while the flush in your cheeks only deepened at the sight of his face. "Great," you mumbled awkwardly, struggling to hook the tea towel back into its place. "I look forward to it."
did u add matteo like mr hot nurse night shift matteo???? from the pitt???? also the same john tucker from off campusss???? are we being fr rn????? stawppppp
heyy just curious if u have watched off campus. if u haven't u totally should ! and give us ur opinions and views after cause i would love to hear em
yes!! i binged it once it came out!
i think overall it was really nice! sweet and cosy vibes for the good parts. really good communication in all the horrible situations (especially when you compare it to other shows/movies these days).
i was kinda surprised about how much time tho they spent on garrett's dad versus hannah's backstory. they were both handled well but i thought hannah's would be a bit more extensive? especially when she was being intimate.
i think there were a few changes compared to the book since i first read it (i don't fw kennedy ngl). not all of them made sense but some were nice like removing the hands off law. this garrett and book garrett were different. i like the show garrett 🥰
the amount of liquid iv placements thooo... made me want to gauge my eyeballs.
favourite scene was the thanksgiving and the growing fruits/vegetables 😭 i love tucker tbh.
but yeah. refreshing to watch after kinda shitty shows for years. kinda gave me never have i ever vibes (i miss devi sm). definitely enjoyed it!
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: heading into ferrari for a new season, you think you're pretty focused. but things don't look too good when a series of love notes from your secret admirer start appearing out of nowhere.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: so so much fluff, poor humour, charles being corny affffff, reader is lowkey oblivious, arthur being the best brother in the world, mentions of charles' hardships with monza and monaco as well as lewis' own hardships, two idiots in love basically
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x fem!reader
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k
𝐀/𝐍: the last fic of my series! even though it's the cheesiest thing i've written, i love cheesy shit and even better if it's with charles! i really enjoyed writing this series! it's also the most active i've been in a while so that's been really fun. leave some requests and i might just take your offer up. // as usual, poorly proofread
𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Lewis Hamilton moving to Ferrari was a shock to most. Whether it was good or bad, well that was up to the individual.
And while Charles was very welcoming of the move, having the Lewis Hamilton as his teammate wasn’t quite the reason.
It was you.
Lewis Hamilton to Ferrari didn’t just bring the history, talent, and skills. It also happened to bring along his personal trainer – you.
You hadn’t been training Lewis long. Around three years after his previous personal trainer left. There was a lot of doubt surrounding you. You were young. A bit new to the world of motorsports. And it didn’t seem like you were helping Lewis through some of his hardest years at Mercedes.
But truth be told, underneath all of that, you happened to understand Lewis to a ‘T’. His mentality, his values, his respect, and his beliefs. They coincided with yours. Together, you could achieve the impossible, you were both sure of it.
Unfortunately, Mercedes just had a really shitty car (and a shitty attitude).
Cue the move to Ferrari. Which in reality was music to Charles’ ears.
Over the past few years, Charles had managed to become friends with you. It took him a while seeing as you were slightly reserved and all over the paddock at all times. But once you had given him one of the most inspiring and encouraging talks, he had ever received after the stint Ferrari had pulled on him in Monaco, 2022 – it was safe to say you had progressed your friendship.
To anyone with a brain and perhaps even slightly declined vision, it was plain as day that Charles was interested in you. Because someone not interested in you wouldn’t stop his interviews to say ‘Hi’ to you, get you involved in Ferrari’s YouTube videos, or walk the track every morning just so he could join you.
2024 was an irritating year for Charles. While the SF-24 wasn’t particularly awful and Charles had still managed to win some races, there was still something missing. Not to mention, a whole Constructor’s championship. Furthermore, waiting for you and Lewis to arrive to Maranello was like telling a child to wait to open their Christmas gift – it was far too long of a wait.
But the time had finally come. Charles had done his annual training camp and arrived to Maranello and both you and Lewis had officially settled down in the area. The first few weeks with you on the team was surreal. Charles was spending more time with you than ever. Almost every day he interrupted your lunch and sat down with you. When Lewis was in the car, he’d appear next to you, discussing smalls things like how you were finding Italy or how the car was.
With every passing second, he spent with you, Charles was struggling to be just friends with you. Especially with the occasional rumor or ship edit of you and Lewis. Deep down, he knew there was nothing to be worried about. Lewis saw you more as a sister if anything, sharing your knowledge with him.
It was time, however, to change this.
Charles had planned it out carefully. Fourteen notes from your secret admirer. Plastered around all areas you visit the most within the Ferrari headquarters. One for every day up until the holiday of love itself: Valentine’s Day.
The first five notes were relatively tame and simple, complimenting your hair or your smile or even giving you some encouragement. They were enough to get you to pull Charles and Lewis aside.
“Guys,” you ushered, gathering the two men into a small circle. “Don’t tell anyone just yet, but for the past few days, I’ve been getting these secret notes,” you squealed quietly, holding a few of them in your hands.
Lewis raised a brow, taking one into his hand. “Secret notes? You mean like letters from a secret admirer?” He asked, reading the note slowly.
You paused. A secret admirer. You hadn’t really thought of the notes like that. You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly. “Oh... I’m not quite sure about that. They seem really sweet but I don’t think they mean it like that.”
Charles pursed his lips together, in disbelief that he was watching his entire plan fall apart before his very eyes. “I mean... they probably do mean it like that,” he chuckled, trying to waver off his nervousness. He blinked at the staring expressions from you and Lewis. “I mean–who leaves compliments they could say to your face on paper if they don’t like you.”
Huh. Now that you thought about it, that was a reasonable argument. “Maybe,” you agreed with a small nod, taking back the notes.
Lewis shoved his hands in his pockets, moving his knowing glance from Charles to you. “Do you think they’ll ever reveal themselves?”
Unbeknownst to you, Charles’ skin began heating up as you gave a small shrug. “Possibly. Who knows? I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
━━━━━━━━━━━
After your conversation with Charles and Lewis, your notes were starting to become only slightly less complimentary and more poetic.
“At night, when the world falls asleep and all is still, you take over my every thought, against my will.”
“Your laugh is a melody of my favourite music notes I wish to hear. A song for my ears only. So soft and so warm.”
“The smile you wear, while unnoticed by all, is one I cannot forget at all.”
Were they cheesy and corny? Yes. Absolutely.
But were you smiling from ear to ear? A hundred percent.
It was getting bad now. For every note you read, your heart would race against your chest, your cheeks would flush, and the world seem to go quiet. You were sure this was exactly what this person wanted.
You couldn’t help but try figure out who the person was. But so far, there were very little personal clues in the notes. All you knew is that the person seemed to know you quite well as every note you found were in the places you visited the most.
“Hello,” a voice sung.
You looked up from the laptop you were supposed to be doing work on (and not daydreaming about love letters). You grinned at the familiar face. “Baby Leclerc!”
Arthur gave you a feigned pained expression, taking a seat next to you. “You and Charles... I swear,” he sighed, resting his head on the chair as you laughed softly. He turned his head to you. “So, I hear you’ve been getting secret notes?”
You flickered your eyes over to Arthur. “That idiot! I told Charles not to tell anyone,” you pouted.
Things are different when your brother sends you to deliver these same notes at six in the morning. Arthur simply smiled. “Any ideas on who it is?”
You sighed, shutting your laptop. “Nope,” you pursed your lips. You had received ten notes in total now. You had managed to pick out a few things. “I think whoever it is likes music or plays something since I’ve had three notes about music. They also might like snow since my ‘heart is as soft as the snow.’”
Arthur pressed his lips together on a line, trying to control his body from projectile vomiting on his brother’s corny notes. “Sound like anyone you know?” He asked, watching you carefully.
Surely by now...
You furrowed your brows. Music and snow. Music and snow. Music and snow. Nothing. There was nothing going through your head and Arthur could tell.
“Well,” Arthur started, standing up from his seat. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”
You smiled. “Hopefully.”
━━━━━━━━━━━
Four notes were left and it was getting more difficult to not only convince Arthur to put them in the selected locations but to make sure you were able to see them. It was getting closer and closer to the date of the car launch. It was five days after Valentine’s Day, the day you were going to receive your last note and this game of hide and seek would finally come to an end.
D-3
“You guide me through all the noise and speed. When you’re here, I find all I need.”
Noise and speed? Now you were thrown off. What did that mean? The noise and speed of what?
But as you walked past the plethora of rooms working on every small or big part of Ferrari’s new car for the season, one cog turned in place. You halted in your steps, thinking very carefully as drills and machines vibrated throughout the building.
Of course. The person had to be within Scuderia Ferrari. Your first thought – it could’ve been anyone. But noise and speed? That was Formula 1. That was at least all your engineers, mechanics, pit crew...
You felt a hand rest on your shoulder, your name softly being called out. “Hey. You okay, chérie?” Charles queried, blue eyes looking down at you slightly concerned.
You blinked, allowing a smile to grace your face even though it felt like the weight of his hand was burning your skin. You tried to keep your cheeks from heating up but any efforts were wasted. “Yeah, great,” you breathed. “Just figuring some things out.”
Charles slowly nodded, removing his hand and allowing you to breathe again. “Okay,” he murmured, “I just wanted to ask. Make sure you eat and drink well, hmm? I don’t want you passing out on the launch.”
You rolled your eyes, cheeks still burning. “Speak for yourself. Don’t think I haven’t seen you skipping lunch for the past week.”
Charles grinned to himself. You noticed. Reality was that he was struggling to not just confess every time he saw you, so he thought cutting one part of his day with you would help. It didn’t. But, hey, at least you noticed.
“You can just say you miss me. I won’t tell anyone, chérie. It’ll be our little secret,” he winked, starting to quickly walk past you in the hope you can’t see his flustered expression.
You blinked blankly again, feeling your heart loudly beat in your chest.
Holy shit.
D-2
“Even amongst the roar of the engine and the cheer of the crowd, you’re the only one I can hear.”
So, you were right. Whoever this admirer was, they were dealing with Ferrari’s car in some shape or format. It was more likely to be a mechanic or engineer, maybe even a test driver.
But one who liked music and snow? You couldn’t think of one person who fitted in all those categories.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Lewis queried, taking a seat next to you at lunch. He mended his brows, tilting his head. “Or should I say euro?”
You huffed, shaking your head. “Funny guy, aren’t ya?”
“Very,” Lewis commented before nudging your shoulder. “So... what’s on your mind? A secret admirer, perhaps?”
You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone. “Sort of. I’m just trying to figure them out. I just wish...”
Lewis raised a brow, turning his body to yours. “You wish...?”
You wished Charles was your secret admirer instead.
Sure, the notes made your day. But Charles was making your day in real life... off the paper. Just this morning, you and Charles had bumped into each other after you received your note. You were about to order your usual drink when he had ordered it for you, memorising the way you liked it exactly.
You told him you couldn’t believe he remembered. And he responded, “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”
The moment had left you thinking for the entire day. You hadn’t seen him since but you don’t think you could look at him without being flustered and a hot mess.
“Nothing,” you mumbled, sighing while Lewis grinned to himself. He knew exactly what you were wishing for.
D-1
“For every checkered flag that waves, you’re the one I look for first. Because even in a crowded room, I’ll always look for you.”
Checkered flags were always a mess. Seconds before the race leader would even pass, the garage and the stands were always moving, running, to the podium. It was rhythm of chaos. You never knew who was next to you. All you could feel was what it felt like in the moment.
Silverstone 2024 was for you to remember forever. Lewis’ first win since 2021 – since you had joined him as his personal trainer. The driver to have the most wins at a single circuit and it was at his home race.
Tears were shed that day.
And the crowd was something you would never forget. You almost lost yourself until Lewis had found you himself, thanking you for being by his side for some of the toughest years of his life.
But for your secret admirer to find you in a crowd of a checkered flag waves... well, they must have some good eyes.
You were lying down on a bench with Charles seated next to you and Arthur sitting across you. All of you were on your break, soaking in the tiny bit of sun that had come out during winter.
Your eyes were shut, protecting yourself from the sun and from melting under Charles’ gaze. You could hear Arthur call your name, making your ears perk up. “What do you look for in a guy?”
You couldn’t see it but Charles was sending the most heaviest glare he could muster to his younger brother. Arthur simply rolled his eyes, waiting for your response.
“That’s such a random question,” you mumbled.
Arthur cleared his throat. You were already onto him. “I mean... well, I asked Jade after I saw a TikTok of people’s responses. She said personality which is great, I guess. Kind of unsettling news for my face though,” he murmured towards the end.
You and Charles found yourself laughing at the scenario. Arthur was truly one of a kind. Quietening down, you realised the brothers were both waiting for your answer. “Um,” you momentarily pondered, “their soul.”
Arthur and Charles paused. The younger brother raised a brow you couldn’t see. “Their soul? What are you, a grim reaper?”
You chuckled softly. “It’s not that... it’s–well, I think everyone has specific types of souls. You can see it when you talk to someone and get to know them. It’s someone’s essence... the fabric of who they are.”
Charles leaned over, face hovering over you from a safe distance. “Their souls?” He repeated out of curiosity.
You nodded. “Yep. Everyone has one. Even you.”
Now you had full undivided attention. “Yeah? What do you think my soul is like, chérie?”
You opened your eyes, swallowing hard when you met those baby blues. Letting out a slow exhale, you stared at him as you thought about your answers. The words seemed to come easily to you.
“Charles... your soul dances. Purely. Freely. It dances to every fleeting moment and to the rhythm of life. Your soul finds meaning in everything because you have the biggest heart I’ve ever known. Because you are the most beautiful person I have ever met, inside and out.”
Charles blinked, speechless. He wasn’t sure what was more touching. Your words or your sheer seriousness. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his heart at bay.
One more day...
That’s all he needed to wait for
D-DAY
“Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? I don’t know about you but I hope they do.”
You stared at the piece of paper. Souls? All of a sudden?
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” a voice quietly greeted behind you.
You turned your body despite knowing exactly who it was by the wave of warmth his voice had sent through you. “Hmm? Did you say something?”
Charles pursed his lips. Shoving his hands in his pockets of his jacket and smiled. “I said Happy Valentine’s Day. You know... since it’s the fourteenth.”
You nodded slowly, half processing his words while his dimples twinkled at you. “You too,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up once again. Stupid goddamn cheeks and their susceptibility to Charles.
You watched his eyes to fall the note in your hands. “Another note?” He asked.
You gave a small smile. “Yup.”
Charles cleared his throat, shuffling on his feet. “What does it say today?”
You opened your mouth, ready to start complaining. “It asks me about whether I think the universe fights for souls to be together–”
“Well, do you?” Charles queried, softly staring at you.
You blinked, feeling tongue-tied. “I... I-I mean yes. I’m sure the universe does but that’s not my point. My point is... is that it’s too random. Where did souls come from? This entire time it’s been music, piano, snow, noise, engines, and checkered flags... it’s so random. They’ve all been somewhat connected by now and–”
“Chérie,” Charles called.
“Yeah?” You responded only to be met with silence. You mended your brows together as he silently stood in front of you. Why wasn’t he saying anything?
You felt the walls of the world close in on you as he raised his eyebrows gently. Surely not...
Charles took a step closer to you, grabbing your hand with his. “I’m not sure about the universe, chérie. But I would love to fight for us.”
Your mouth fell open. You think your hands were shaking. “Charles... you wrote the notes?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, hand reaching to rub the back of his neck as his own cheeks started to burn.
“I’ve been planning it a few days after you came to Maranello. I just didn’t know how long I could be just friends with you for but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you then. If it isn’t clear yet,” he breathed in, thumb rubbing your hand gently, “I really really like you.”
You gulped. Charles’ eyes were always soft. They changed when he raced. Like he could burn down the track. But today, they looked at you with such a warm and heartfelt intensity. It was the same one when he lost in Monaco and when he won.
The same one you found searching for you in the crowd.
Charles’ breath hitched as he felt you lean in. He watched you move your head, eyes falling to his lips. And just like that, he could feel your lips pressed onto the corner of his mouth. He steadied himself as you pull away, your thumb grazing his mouth gently.
He flickered his eyes to your lips as the words fall freely. “I like you too.”
Charles grinned, dimples popping out once again. His arms moved to wrap themselves around your waist, bringing you into a tight hug. He let out a relieved exhale. “Thank God,” he murmured next to your ear.
He could feel you laugh against him and he loved it. “What did you think I was gonna say? That I didn’t like you?” You asked with a small smile as you pulled away from his body, still in his grasp.
Charles rolled his eyes, thumb rubbing small circles into your waist. He looked at you, taking in the moment. He gave you a small shrug. “You always make me nervous,” he sighed out.
“Me? Make you nervous?” You gaped. “I’m pretty sure I’m shaking right now.”
A wide smile graced his face. “I’m glad I have the ability to do that.”
You stayed silent, unsure if you could trust yourself to speak any further. You simply smiled, cheeks still burning to react to Charles while you rested in his arms.
“Chérie,” he called softly and this time you looked back to what was yours.
You tilted your head, waiting for him to say something.
“You never asked me about your soul,” he stated.
The way he said it made the comment sound factual. But you didn’t understand. “What do you mean?” You asked.
He laughed quietly at your confused expression. Tucking your hair behind your ears, Charles rested his hands back on your waist. “I want you to ask me what I think about your soul.”
You fell quiet for a brief second. Christ, was he sure that you were the one making him nervous? Because he sure knew how to make you speechless.
“Okay.” You breathed, giving him a small smile. Moving your arms to his neck, you hung them and opened your mouth. “Charles, what do you think about my soul?”
“Chérie, you said my soul dances. But your soul... it breathes. It lives. Everywhere you walk, you give life to world. You create reason. Everything you say and do sounds like a song. Even your silence is music. Sweetheart, you make living the most beautiful gift of life.”
do you write abt dn3? even if he’s retired? sorry i need more content from him 🥲
i have one fic with him and lando that i wrote ages ago called 'gorgeous.' but i never really had much to write for him unfortunately 😓 sorry to disappoint ♡︎
PAIRING: oscar piastri x mercedes!f1 driver!fem!reader
SUMMARY: summer break doesn’t feel all that glamorous when one moment breaks your illusion entirely.
WARNINGS: fluff, angst, denial, jealousy, oscar and reader feeling homesick, lando being messy, MAJOR DEVELOPMENT, white wedding, poor humour // poorly proof-read
A/N: here it is! would you believe i made this entire series solely based on this bet scene? AND I BET YOU THOUGHT I FORGOT 😭 but sorry in advance. you won’t like me after this.
🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist | 🦋 heart of chambers
Home looked the way it almost always did. Even in the winter, it still had a way to shine. Nor was it particularly cold. A nice contrast to the incessant heat that been scathing everyone months on end.
The only difference was your house evidently looked like the house of a bride and groom. The sun has begun to set, pinks and purples stretched out across the horizon, allowing for the endless number of dainty lights you were sure Dylan had spent forever doing. Garlands came in swathes across the backyard, paired nicely with your aunt's flower of choice. The outdoor dining table, usually stashed away for the summer was out with the help of Edie and her father. Music, selected by Hattie, of course, lightly rang through the air, gentle and faint as though not to intrude on any conversation.
Oscar sighed, resting his arms on the balustrade of the porch, eyeing the set up for the rehearsal dinner as the few guests started to pour in. The air felt nice. A reprieve from the thick air of racing that had been suffocating him.
He had spent the two days back home with you, helping you arrange the last-minute needs for your aunt's weddings. You had been stressing the moment you stepped onto the plane, constantly eyeing the to-do-list on your phone as in-flight entertainment. He could tell you wanted things to be perfect. And he endeavoured to make that happen.
"So..." Your voice erupted into the air, catching Oscar's attention. "How does it look?"
Oscar's throat dried, brown eyes wavering over the sight of you. It wasn't anything particularly special. But he would digress. There weren't too many times he'd see you all dolled up. But with the happiness of wedding activities, you were especially beautiful. Cheeks all flushed and rosy, smile wide and bright. Hair all curled in the right places. Lips painted in a colour that made him want to fall to his knees.
"Oscar? The dinner?" You queried, blinking him out of his trance.
He cleared his throat, nodding, forcing himself to look out at the setup once again. "It looks great," he agreed, slowly reverting back to you. "Gorgeous," he breathed, unable to stop the whir of his heart.
You grinned, hands clasping excitedly, making him smile even harder. "Thank God!" You almost squealed. Stressed didn't even begin to cover it. You had barely been to any weddings as it stood. You had no idea what to do. Even though your aunt and Dylan said you didn't need to help. You felt awful for racing during most of the planning. You needed to do something. Which was why you had begged to help with the dinner months ago. And after some relentless pleas, your aunt had finally agreed.
"It does look gorgeous," you hummed, looking over the backyard with the setting sun. God, it was unreal. You pressed your lips, turning back to Oscar, eyeing his well fitted shirt. "I think I saw three of those white polos in your suitcase," you teased quietly, holding your hands behind your back.
"They're different shades," Oscar maintained, narrowing his eyes at you.
You chuckled softly. "Well, you look good," you murmured awkwardly, cheeks beginning to heat up even more. You prayed for the winter air to help even slightly. Why the heck did you say that?
"Thanks," Oscar smoothly responded back like his chest hadn't exploded entirely at your compliment.
You raised a brow, watching him take a step too close to you. Head leaning down, brown eyes softly falling over your face like he was examining you, hot breath just grazing your cheeks. You held your breath, frozen at his sudden movements.
"You have pretty eyes."
"Oh?" You blinked blankly, momentarily confused as you tried to register his words. "Oh. I... thank you?" You queried, rubbing the back of your neck, instantly feeling the hot skin on your fingertips
He simply smiled, leaning back, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers to prevent him from entirely freaking out. "Come on," he said, looking over at the people beginning to take their seats. "It's time for dinner."
You swallowed hard, watching Oscar take to the steps, only managing to get down one before he looked back at you. Your eyes fell to his stretched hand, mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. Had Oscar always been like this? So... God, you didn't even know how to describe it.
Drawing a quick breath, you gave him a tight smile, hesitantly sliding your hand into his, instantly feeling the warmth spread to your fingertips. You pressed your lips together, heading towards the steps. He's just being nice. You reminded the quickened pace of your heart before your brain got too carried away. You didn’t need to fall back to the ways of your old self.
You smiled openly towards the familiar faces gathering near the table as you and Oscar arrived. Suddenly, it really felt like you were home. It hadn’t been that way in a while.
"___, sweetheart," Oscar's grandma peered at the both of you, eyes wrinkling at the sight of you two together. "I was wondering when you'd finally start dating!"
You almost choked on your breath, snapping your wide eyes to your hand still with Oscar's. You looked up, meeting the frozen expression etched onto his face. Snatching your hand back, a nervous laugh immediately spilled from your lips, head shaking. "Oh we aren't... um..."
Oscar pressed his lips together as you trailed off awkwardly, spotting you wiping your hand cautiously on your clothes, clearly agitated at the comment. He kept his frown at bay, brown eyes flickering elsewhere, only to meet the raised brows of his mother and your aunt nearby. Christ... was it that obvious?
Oscar's grandma frowned more obviously, low hum falling from her lips. “That’s a shame,” she simply said before taking her seat at the table.
You blinked blankly, mind whirring with confusion as you hesitantly turned to Oscar. "I... sorry. That was weird," you laughed awkwardly, rubbing your arm because it was the only thing preventing you from letting the ground swallow you whole.
Oscar shook his head, giving you a tight smile. "It's okay," he said, bending down to whisper into your ear. "She might have had one too many already," he joked before leaning back, hand curving over a nearby chair to pull back. He gestured at it. "Come on."
"What was that?" Your aunt asked Oscar as she and his mother came together, practically cornering him once the dinner had dispersed and the guest count had fallen to the two families lounging around the backyard.
Oscar raised a brow at the incessant eyes on him, gathering the remaining dishes left on the table. "What was what?" He asked coyly. It was best for him if he didn't get hounded by your aunt and his mother. Because when those two banded together, no secret of his was left unturned.
His mother huffed in amusement, taking the pile of dishes from her son's arms. “You know what,” she retorted, eyeing him carefully. "You've been awfully sweet to my girl all night."
Your aunt nodded, resting a hand on her lower back for support. "The steps."
"The whispering," his mother added.
"Jokes all night."
"Stuck to her like super glue really."
Oscar cleared his throat, tips of his ears reddening. “Would it be crazy to say you raised a good son?" He retaliated in his defence, taking back the dishes from his mother's arms, heading towards the very steps they had just been talking about.
Nicole looked over at your aunt knowingly. The past few weeks had been full of Hattie and her sisters giggling here and there. God knew why. But after tonight, it seemed to be a bit clear as to why. For so many years, you had been Oscar-crazy. Oscar this. Oscar that. The two of them had watched you devote your time till one day, you woke up and decided you'd act like he didn't quite exist—something they still couldn't wrap their heads around. And now, they had gotten their first inkling of him feeling the same way.
"Ten dollars he'll be blushing tomorrow the moment she walks in?"
"You really want to turn your own wedding into some matchmaking?" Nicole tilted her head at your aunt, grin already stretching onto her face. She paused for a moment before speaking. "Thirty he asks her to dance."
Your aunt snorted. "I'll take that action."
The George Ballroom was a restored heritage building. The ceilings were high with intricate decor, ornate period detailing in every inch of the room that combined perfectly with the soft light pouring in through the large windows. The timber below was warm and ready for the colder temperatures trickling in.
The perfect venue just thirty minutes away from home.
Oscar's role was to greet all the guests along with Hattie, make light conversation while seating them as you, his mother, and the rest of his sisters figured out any other last-minute logistics. It was the first time he had ever been grateful his sister couldn't shut up.
"Would a smile hurt?" Hattie retorted as the both of them returned to the entrance of the ballroom. They had just seated some close friends of your aunt's and her brother had sported an expression she couldn't quite name.
Oscar gave her a pointed look. "I am smiling," he maintained, "See?"
She made a face at the sight. It was a half of a smile and some sort of pained grimace. “That’s not even close," she huffed.
"Well, if someone asks me about F1 again, it'll be a frown," he sighed, folding his arms, resting his back against the edge of the door momentarily. Almost every conversation he had entertained had involved some sort of comment about his car, his performance, or his team. And as much he loved his sport, this was supposed to be the one place where he could escape them. But alas... that was never the case.
Hattie pursed her lips, checking for any new guests coming in. A grin stretched onto her face at the sight of you and her mother talking, presumably about the processional. She cleared her throat, hissing loudly, "___! Mum! Tell Oscar to smile more!"
Oscar tilted his head, instantly about to snap back some sort of defensive comment but the words seemed to die in his throat as his eyes landed on you. His lips parted at the faint green satin curled around your body. His breath caught at your pinned hair, loose tresses framing your face. And his heart seemed to pace at the light dusting of red on your cheeks and soft yet rich pink painted onto your lips.
He had seen you at the gala and that was one thing of itself. But now that he had accepted what he felt, the sight of you made him want to fall onto his knees and kiss the floor you walked on.
A smile curved onto your face, eyes shifting to Oscar. "You're gonna have to smile for these photos, Osc," you pointed out, giving him a small nudge.
Oscar felt that static spark surge through him once again, skin becoming impossibly hot and ears tuning in and out surrounding frequencies. All while he was oblivious to wide grins on his sister and mother's faces. Looked like Nicole was going to have to pay your aunt after all.
He cleared his throat, forcing a sarcastic smile onto his face. "Funny," he simply commented, unable to think of a better thing to say. It was better if he kept his words to you short. He’d make a fool of himself more than he already was.
Your tongue rested on the corner of your mouth as you looked over the shoulder of the wedding photographer. The processional wasn't too far away. But before 'everyone turned into a sobbing mess' (Nicole's words, not yours), you needed to take photos.
You smiled satisfactorily at the frame, hearing the shutter go off, capturing your four favourite siblings together. You stood back with a quick breath in, watching them organise themselves again for another snap. You had thought about it more than once since you got here but God, it was truly nice to have everyone together. Especially for such a special occasion. From Chris to Dylan's grandparents... they were all here.
Your family.
You hadn't realised how much you missed everyone until you were here. These past few years... they had all been for working towards this season. This seat. This opportunity. The people around you had given a lot for you to be here. But you had also sacrificed them to be here.
You missed birthdays and anniversaries. Graduations. Holidays. Home in Australia had turned into standing in a room full of strangers in another country. Learning new names and people when the one's you cared about were thousands of kilometres away.
Not a part of you regretted it. You understood. Some things were necessary. But you wished it could've been different. That some part of you could've been normal.
But for today, you could pretend. At least for a few hours.
"Okay, now you and Oscar," Mae breathed out, locking her eyes on you as she parted from her siblings, hand already wrapping around your wrist to drag you in front of the camera.
You blinked, eyes slightly widening as you looked at her. "W-What? But we already have photos."
"Yeah... with everyone else," Your aunt pointed out, folding her arms while she sat next to the standing Hattie who wore a shit-eating grin on her face.
Oh lord.
You swallowed hard as you came to a stop, w sizeable gap left between you and Oscar. You met those familiar brown eyes, sending a pang right to your heart. You turned your head instantly, consoling the strange whir your chest. With another stabilising breath in, you gave a calm nod to... well, whoever. "Okay, ready," you stated.
Nicole raised a brow, peeking from behind the photographer. "Can you act like you want to be in the same room?" She queried, eyeing the empty space between the both of you. "Come on. Closer, you two."
You pressed your lips together tightly, barely shuffling closer to Oscar. You gave Nicole a pointed look as though you were asking if this was enough. But her hands narrowed together, sizing still ever present opening next to you.
You tried not to sigh, fingers curling into the side of your dress while you neared him, fitting suit entering more of your peripheral as you did. Surely... this had to be enough. There was like a couple of inches left... this was fine.
Until the photographer peered out of their camera, unimpressed eyes wavering over you and Oscar. "Guys, come on. You look like strangers."
You opened your mouth to refute the statement but the feel of Oscar's hand sliding against the curve of your back silenced your words. They burned against your throat, trapped, too attached to the fingers searing through your dress, encircling around your waist before he tugged you closer to him. The action left you flushed against him, shoulder to shoulder as his head slightly tipped towards you, soft smile stretching onto his face while he stared at the camera.
Nicole grinned, giving a glance to your aunt before looking back at the both of you. “Perfect,” she commented casually, patting the photographer's shoulder as she took a step back. She eyed your frozen expression. The sight made her smile warmly, fingers moving to gesture for you to do the same.
You blinked, looking back over at the camera. Your heart seemed to claw at your chest, wild like an animal though the poised smile on your face arose smoothly. Like you had rehearsed for any other occasion than this. But it wasn't so easy. The corners of your mouth trembled with every shift of Oscar's fingers against your waist. You could even smell him, for crying out loud! Cologne curling around you like a warm hug.
You reminded yourself to breathe as every second seemed to become impossibly long. This was probably the most humiliation you had felt in years. At least two of them. You had taught yourself to stray away from these reactions. To steer clear of all things Oscar. But he had put a large crack into your walls. And of course, he didn’t know.
But Oscar stood next to you, anything but calm as the expression on his face. He couldn't remind himself to breathe for the fear that his next breath would shake. He was sure his ears were redder than anything he could imagine. Scarlet. He couldn’t look at his sisters and their knowing glances. And he certainly couldn't look at you.
But he did.
God, he did.
And from where he stood, he could've sworn his knees quivered. His throat bobbed nervously, pupils dilating at the sheer sight of you. There weren’t enough words to describe how you looked. Like some sort of angel had fallen from heaven itself. Like you were the only person that made his world spin. And a part of him needed you to know that.
His heart almost stopped when your head tilted and your eyes swiftly moved to him, catching him entirely in the act. If you knew, you didn't let on.
"What?" You raised a brow, voice gentle.
Oscar swallowed hard, forcing him to shake his head. "Nothing," he whispered.
"Dylan," your aunt shakily breathed in, not particularly bothered to wipe her tear-stained face. "You've always been there for me. Every all-nighter I've pulled to watch races. Every complaint of this pregnancy. Even through my subpar bacon and eggs," she chuckled, shaking her head with a watery smile. "I'm eternally grateful for your unwavering support. You have this light in you, and it never quite dims. It lights up my path and if I'm honest, I'm always a little jealous. All I know is that there is no one quite like you. So in this new path together, I promise to be that same light. Be there like a nuclear force and cherish you for forever. As my partner. My husband. The father of our children. As my love."
Oscar should have been paying attention. It was rude not too. But he couldn’t help drifting his eyes behind your aunt, finding you standing with a handkerchief, which was definitely meant for the bride, being dabbed onto your wet cheeks.
You were stubborn about it. He could tell. The pursed lips and consistent sniffles. Like you weren’t crying. But he could spot your glossy eyes from miles away. How soft they looked with every romantic word spoken into the air. Not jealous or envious. Just... happy. The way your arm curled around his mother's like you both needed support.
It took everything in him to not walk by the altar and wipe those freshy fallen tears. So instead, he kept his fingers by his side, quiet.
But the action did nothing to silence his brain.
How much longer could he wait? The words were almost on the tip of his tongue. Even though he had no idea what he would say.
That he had never like this before. So giddy. So consumed. So happy that it was you his heart ached for.
With every week that had passed since Canada, he had been falling more and more. And call him crazy and absolutely insane but he almost didn’t care for the Spanish footballer pining after you. But truth be told, he cared more than he’d like to admit.
All he wanted was for you to know. To hope that somewhere in your silent stares and flustered states, it was also your heart that beat for him.
"Okay," you cleared your throat into the microphone, nervously eyeing the guests in the room. Were there always this many people at the wedding? You swallowed thickly, breathing in once again. "I've been asked to make a speech and contrary to belief, I'm not that good with a microphone."
You smiled quietly at the low wave of chuckled ruminating around the room. Your tense shoulders relaxed, spotting the familiar ease of smiles thrown back at you. "But this is for the person who's quite literally has been my day one. No one really knows how much my aunt has given to me. Her time and efforts. Every dime to get me where I am today. My teacher, my mother, and my aunt in all in one. And while I'm sure I'll spend forever in her debt, there is no one quite like her. She’s relentless with the biggest of hearts. And she’ll always take your problem and make it hers. Late nights and early mornings. She's there twenty-four seven. To be honest, these things used to make me worried."
"But then she met Dylan," you breathed, grinning at her husband. "Dylan is the entire opposite of her. The guy who actually says, "Go with the flow." Who knows when balance is needed so he'll crack a really bad dad joke to see her smile. It's strange because like some sort of perfect puzzle, he matches her. And now I'm not so worried," you chuckled softly, blinking back the sting in your eyes. "When two people love each other as much as they do, it's hard to be worried. So if everyone would kindly raise a glass—because what's a wedding speech without a toast? To my aunt and Dylan. May you continue to remind the rest of us that real love is worth celebrating every single day."
Several glasses lifted into the air while some hands remained occupied drying tear-filled eyes. You took a step away from the front of the room, smiling warmly at your aunt who now stood from her table, arms open for bring you into a long hug.
She kissed the side of your cheek before murmuring, "I love you, honey."
You breathed in, fingers tightening around her. "I love you too," you mumbled against her shoulder, free hand reaching to grasp Dylan's, giving him a reassuring squeeze.
You sniffled as you pulled back, eyeing the newly wedded couple. "So... you guys gonna bust some dances moves out there? I think it's time."
Your aunt chuckled at your wiggling brows. "These littles ones are definitely ready," she answered, gesturing to her stomach. "They've been kicking non-stop," she heaved, shaking her head with a dry look.
You grinned, moving back to give them the space to do so. Quietly you watched the couple drift towards the centre of the room, shuffling their feet to the slow rhythm travelling from Hattie’s piano in the corner of the room. Their eyes never quite moved off one another, smiles ever persistent, warm and entirely content.
And as the music began to shift, the floor slowly became busy with Mae dragging her mother with her, Edie with her boyfriend, and Chris with his partner. You took the time to sit and watch happily; afraid you'd miss this moment like all the others.
It was a simple and sweet reminder right in front of you—not everything was as complicated as it was on track. Life seemed to be a constant plethora of schedules and training. But when you purposely pushed all of it aside, it wasn't so overwhelming.
You blinked at the sudden hand entering your vision, making you tip your head up to find Oscar staring down at you. You raised a brow at him, drifting your gaze to his hand again.
"Everyone else is dancing," Oscar stated the obvious, swallowing quietly. He reaffirmed his hand position. "So... dance with me?"
You pursed your lips at the question, unable to ignore the honey eyes boring into your face. Your fingertips tingled at the offer, though your mind and heart formed some sort of coalition, glaring obviously at you to decline.
This was dangerous territory once again. You had drawn your lines and ventured to never cross them. But Oscar, as he often did without realising, liked to blur them. But you weren't teetering on those lines. You weren't. Yes. You were metres away from it, if anything.
You knew your boundaries. You were safe.
A grin stretched onto Nicole's face as she danced with her daughters, spotting your hand glide into Oscar's palm. Her eyes flickered over to your aunt, brows raised pointedly as she mouthed, "You owe me."
Your aunt only rolled her eyes, looking over as both you and Oscar stepped towards the dancing bodies. The sight reminiscent to you both of the gala in Monaco.
You breathed in with a careful composure, not too shaky nor too calculated. Just normal. You were just normal when you planted your hand on top of Oscar's shoulder. Equally as indifferent to your hands almost intertwined or the press of his fingers against your upper back.
You both seemed to fall into the rhythm naturally, feet moving with smooth practice after Monaco. You could feel his eyes on you as you averted your gaze to somewhere else. Anywhere else. Only to find Hattie wiggling her brows at you as she joined the floor, leaving the music to the speakers. You almost groaned, shaking your head instinctively. Of course, she would find this very moment to make it about you and Oscar.
It was just a dance. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Oscar cleared his throat, brown eyes still on you. "That was a really sweet speech," he murmured with a soft smile.
You blinked, lifting your eyes back to him. Your lips stretched into a thin, warm smile. "Thank you," you said. "I did get some help from Edie though," you confessed, remembering the few times across the season you had spent with her over the phone. You weren't particularly great with words. Lucky for you, Edie had an affinity for them.
A hum fell from Oscar's throat. "Thought I heard a bit of her in there," he lightly joked, eliciting a soft chuckle from you as you shuffled your feet against the floor, in tune with the slow-paced music. "You did great though. Barely a single dry eye in the room."
You raised a brow before you narrowed your eyes. "Does that include you?"
Oscar pursed his lips, giving you a funny look. "I was sweating out of my eyes," he retorted despite the corners of his mouth beginning to quiver with amusement. "I was," he maintained when you blankly stared at him.
"Sure, sure," you rolled your eyes, shaking your head.
He chuckled gently, falling quiet as the warmth of his gaze fell over you once again. Being this close to you, he could see the specks of red in your cheeks, different from the blush dusted on them. He wondered if it was because of him and not the heat. He hoped it was.
He swallowed thickly before taking a calm breath in, watching your eyes waver to anything but him. "Did I tell you look you beautiful today?"
You could feel your body still despite the world moving around as you matched Oscar’s footsteps. Your mouth ran dry, mind unable to conjure a single word to respond with. So you danced, lips parted around nothing while your heart thudded in your ears.
Oscar smiled quietly at your wide eyes finally on him. "Well," he started, "you do. Very much so."
"I... well," you caught your breath, still hearing your hammering heart as though it was coming through the speakers. "We all wore similar stuff," you shrugged, ever aware of his fingers on your back.
A sigh fell from his lips, teasing eyes focusing on you. "Why can't you just take a compliment? You look beautiful, I mean you always do, but I’m telling you. Simple as that," he murmured, satisfied with the deeper shade of red flushing your cheeks.
Your throat tightened, feet shuffling dangerously close to your drawn lines. You breathed in, putting on a small smile. "Thank you," you said, almost a whisper.
Please for the love of God, someone interrupt before you did something you'd regret.
"Okay. Show and tell's over," Hattie intervened, patting her brother's shoulder. "It's my turn with her."
Oh thank God.
Oscar snapped his head to his sister as the both of you came to a slow stop, hands reluctantly peeling away from you. His eyes narrowed incredulously. "Your turn?" He queried, baffled. "You're not serious," he retorted, giving her a small glare. Why the hell was she practically cockblocking him? Her out of all people?
"You keep hogging her and besides, she's my best friend," she huffed back, folding her arms. My best friend that looks like she's going to explode but my best friend, nonetheless.
You forced a smooth chuckle from your lips. "It's okay, guys. There's enough of me to go around," you teased, nudging the both of them with your elbows.
Hattie smiled, tilting her head at Oscar. "See? Now go and dance with Mae. Go on," she ushered, hands shooing in him away.
Oscar gave his sister another small glare, still obeying her as his feet inched away from you and towards Mae. And just before he turned, he shot you a faint smile, tips of his ears slightly red.
Hattie watched her brother walk away begrudgingly, arm looping through yours naturally. Her lips parted, evidently about to say something about the situation with the cheeky glint in her eye but you had beat her to it.
"Not a word, Hats."
"But—"
"Hattie!"
Belgium had been a real kicker for you. A sprint win and P2 was no match for Oscar’s unconscious point advantage. Because his race win and sprint P2 had left you on the back foot and right back in the hunt for the championship lead once again.
Five points. That's all you had between you.
But God was the media having a field day with it. They couldn't stop talking about how tragic it was. You had just "had the championship in your grasp" and now "you were going to have to catch up to Oscar."
Talk about dramatic.
But as you stood on the podium in Hungary, grinning ear to ear as you held the P1 trophy to the crowd with the sun beaming down on you, the theatrics had only just begun. You could hear the journalists and officials' talk as you got out of your car.
"A two-point gap... Oscar better hope it doesn't get any bigger after the break."
"A new championship leader on the track Oscar got his controversial maiden win... talk about uncomfortable."
You breathed in, reverting your eyes back to the orange littered ceramic trophy, tracing the hand-drawn patterns momentarily. You hummed satisfactorily, carefully placing it away from Lando's vision. As much as you'd appreciate a remake of this beautiful artwork, you weren't sure if the artists nor the FIA would be too happy.
You blinked at Lando's nudge, watching Oscar pick up the nearby bottle of God knows what. Turning your head, you raised a brow.
"You might feel like a winner today, but you and Oscar have both lost," Lando yelled out over the endless roars of the crowd, hand tightening around his bottle.
Confusion poured over your face as Oscar mended his brows together, evidently feeling the same. "Did you drink before you got on the podium?" You joked, shaking your head at whatever antics the Brit was now pulling.
Lando chuckled. Of course, you two forgot. But he didn't. "It's Hungary," he stated the obvious, blue eyes wrinkled with amusement at the blank looks on your faces. "The bet. Oscar said I'd be leading by now. You said Oscar would be. But guess who won?"
Realisation flickered over your face as you took a step back, watching the bubbles of alcohol spray into the air and all over everyone else. You tried to recall the moment it had happened. It felt like a while ago. Shanghai. The cool room.
Your voice echoed in your brain. "What exactly are we betting on though? What happens if someone loses?"
Lando blinked like he hadn't thought about that. The sound of his fingers clicking rang. "Whoever has the wrong prediction will have to jump into the sea in Monaco. So, two of us will lose."
Your eyes slightly widened, head snapping to Oscar who seemed to have the same memory jogged, lips faltering away from the bottle of champagne. His brown eyes looked over at you in disbelief.
Ah fuck.
You turned towards Lando, eyes wincing at the sudden beam of sun behind him. You almost frowned at his wide smirk. Talk about a complex. "I thought you were joking," you whined, feet moving to take a picture with the papaya boys.
"You don't actually expect us to jump into the sea, do you?" Oscar queried from the right side of you as you all posed for the camera.
"Sure," Lando started, smirk barely falling as he turned back to the two of you, granting you momentary relief. "If you guys are chickens."
"Oh come on," you huffed, peace leaving as fast as it came. This was childish. You had better things to be doing than jumping into the Monaco sea in the middle of August for crying out loud.
Lando only smirked harder, stepping back with Oscar to let a Mercedes engineer take a picture with you. He folded his arms, inching closer towards the podium exit soon as you two did the same. He breathed in, entering a darker corridor to leave.
"If you post on your stories that I'm the best uncle Basil has ever had then you can be free."
Oh Christ.
You looked over to Oscar who had the same expression as you. Yeah. Like hell you would.
"Humiliation or humiliation," you sang dryly, shooting a half-amused glare towards Lando.
"Hey, at least it's summer," Lando retorted, hands rising in his defence. "Could've been an asshole and reminded you in winter."
"Gee, thank you, Lando," Oscar said sarcastically, navigating the exit with ease. "How can we ever repay you?"
Lando only grinned, patting both of your backs with a few thuds. "You know how," he stated, smoothly walking in front of you. "Happy summer break, you two!"
You eyed the retreating figure with slight disdain. "A few days with Basil and he's got an ego," you sighed, shaking your head.
Oscar pursed his lips, watching his teammate as Lando's incessant teasing for the past month or so came to mind. He curled his lip. "Trust me... this is a Pre-Basil thing."
"Lovely," you commented, voice hosting barely any humour at all. You clasped your hands, turning to Oscar. "So... call me when you want to jump into the sea?"
He raised a brow. "You going somewhere this break?"
Between the wedding and racing, he’d forgotten to ask what you were doing for the next month.
You nodded, following after your publicist. "Keeping myself busy with all the small stuff. Brackley. Reading. The gym, of course," you drawled dramatically, making him chuckle.
"Well, if you get bored of keeping yourself busy," Oscar started, nudging you with his shoulder. "I'm only ten minutes away."
You grinned, watching your paths split momentarily as your publicist headed into a different direction. "I'll try and remember that."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked Oscar cautiously, brows slightly mended as you turned to him from the table.
Oscar looked at you, confused. He nodded slowly. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
You pursed your lips, hand reaching to scratch the back of your neck. "This just doesn't really seem like your type of... thing," you said awkwardly, settling on the most neutral word you could find.
He looked down at the blank white canvas in front of him and pots of small paints arranged across your table. He took a breath in. “Well… I’m not not an expert at this. I'm pretty sure I bet Lando in the video."
You blinked. Huh... You gave him a gentle smile, hand instinctively reaching out to pat his shoulder from across the table, the action almost consoling. "It is very important to me that you know this isn't a competition," you uttered with the finest balance of dryness and concern.
Oscar's lips parted as his brain struggled to form a single coherent sentence, too caught up in your fingers pressing into his shoulder and searing into his skin. His gaze drifted up your arm, finding your innocent wide eyes blinking at him like you weren’t doing anything to him. The air caught in his throat as you tilted your head, emphasising your concern, sending him into a coughing fit.
You retracted your hand, brows raised with surprise, reaching out to grab the glass of water nearby. Pushing it to him, you slightly leaned in with concern. "Did you just choke on air?"
He mulled over your question, tips of his ears red. "...No?"
You smiled, amused as you sat back in your chair, arms folded. "Good. Can't have you dying on me, Osc. It's no fun winning without the competition."
The confusion on his face fell flat, brown eyes raking over the evident spots of determination written over you.
"But you just said—"
"Let's start!"
They say time flies by when you're having fun. And as much as you'd hate to admit it, whoever ‘they' were... were right. Every minute seemed to pass by without too much thought. Any lines you had drawn, while in front of you, felt like you seldom drawn them. No guards. No caution.
It was the way Oscar made you feel when your heart wasn't slamming against every vessel of your body. At ease and warm.
You didn't overthink every laugh of yours as Oscar broke out every single horrid memory from your childhood.
The one time you and Oscar decided to swap karts for a race and raced under each other’s names. You even exchanged helmets and you tried your best to tuck your hair into your helmet. Much to your surprise, no one had realised. Of course, you still won.
Then that time you were in Albert Park, and you decided venturing up the largest tree was a good idea. Which was all fun and games until you looked down at felt gravity shift, becoming like a cat stuck up in a tree in need of rescuing. You were a kid. And as you defended yourself, "It was really high, okay?"
It was Oscar who tried to get you down while Hattie did the mental persuasion.
Nicole was the one who succeeded.
You had to get Oscar back for that memory. So you didn’t shy away from the endless times Oscar tried to look 'cool and casual' (his words, not yours) in front of Lily at boarding school. All of which had failed, naturally. Your favourite, however, was the time you all played dodgeball. All three of you were on the same day. And Oscar tried to protect Lily from getting out... only to get hit in the face.
"My nose ended up bleeding," Oscar deadpanned from across the table, swiping over the canvas so carefully hidden from you.
Your eyes brimmed with tears, skin hot, barely able to breathe at the memory with all the laughter. "B-But it was the way you left!" You gasped for air. "Hand on your nose, talking to Lily so casually to say you were fine. With that haircut too!"
He gave you a pointed look while he rested his paintbrush; his attempt being miffed. But even the corners of his own mouth trembled as your head came down onto the table, hand tightening over your brush, body shaking with uncontrollable laughter. The sound came from his throat all too easily, especially when he spotted the glimpse of tears running down your cheeks.
He almost leaped out of his chair, grinning and laughing so hard, fingers pressed on the edge of the table. "You're crying?" He exclaimed in disbelief, own head buckling with the weight of the sight. "It's not that funny," he breathed out despite the obvious answer.
It so was.
Sixteen-year-old Oscar. Hair all choppy in strange directions. In that horrid PE gear, hand shaking as he covered his very obviously bleeding nose, ears entirely red and ignoring the frantic calls of his teacher. Just leaning on a wall as he met Lily's concerned gaze nonchalantly. "I'm fine," he said, waving his hand in dismissal. He shrugged casually, half-wincing at the pain surging through is nose. "Could happen to anyone."
You sniffled after a few minutes, leaning your head back on your chair, letting the air cool your flamed cheeks. You cleared your throat, breathing shakily as you wiped your stained cheeks. "Okay," you croaked, voice broken, eliciting a small chuckle from Oscar.
You sucked in a sharp inhale of fresh air, looking at the back of his canvas. "Done?"
He grinned, nodding as his stomach ached from all the laughter. "It's a masterpiece,” he stated proudly.
You rolled your eyes. "Okay, Picasso. If you're so confident, why don't you go first?" You retorted, folding your arms.
"I will," he replied back without missing a beat, pompously turning his canvas with his raised brows and smug smile. "Ta-da," he sang.
You blinked, leaning in at the splurge of black, white, and grey. Your eyes narrowed, head tilting while you spotted the inklings of pink for a tongue. "Is that... Is that Basil?" You gaped, snapping your head to the poor dog in the corner of your apartment, lying down innocently, unaware of the tragedy that had just befallen.
"Obviously," Oscar said, frowning at your reaction.
"Oscar... that is so... discourteous," you hisser, shaking your head. "Baz barely likes you as it is!"
The offence was clear on Oscar's face. "We've had a strained relationship, but we've worked things out,” he defended, leaning back in his chair. He pointed at his canvas. "That is art. I'd like to see you do better."
You blinked blankly, turning your painting of what was so clearly both of your karts from the Oakleigh Go Kart Racing Club. Crisp lines from the track. The fencing. Down to the colour of the karts. Not a single detail missing (well... considering the time you spent laughing than painting).
Oscar pursed his lips, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent him from smiling hard. He sucked in a sharp breath, maintaining his composure far better than he once did. "You know you can be bad at things too, right?" He sighed, letting his half-assed annoyance flow into his voice.
You scrunched your nose, mocking. "Not my forte, Piastri."
Summer in Monaco was nothing like summer in Australia. No astronomical heat blaring into your skin. No melting thongs on paths. No backyard barbies nor your small conversation starter on how it was.
Instead, it looked like this for Oscar. A tennis court filled with athletes and people with a little more money in their pockets than needed. If there was one thing he had learnt in his time in Monaco was that after racing, the Monégasques loved tennis.
And while he respected every other sport, there was something only slightly dreary about watching a ball go from one side of the court to another.
Lucky for him, he wasn't alone.
"You think you'd ever be a good tennis player?" Oscar queried, sat in the provided box, turning his head to you.
You pursed your lips at his question, hands slowly raising after everyone erupted into an applause. "I mean there's some physics to the art," you murmured, squinting your eyes at the yellow ball before settling back in your seat. "But I don't think I'd make a very good one. It's too much pressure."
He raised a brow at you, corners of his mouth grinning. "More than racing?"
You tilted your head, giving him a pointed look. "It's too silent in here. Too many eyes," you grumbled. "When we race, I know I'm not alone. You’re on the track. The team watches over the data. Here it's every man for himself."
Oscar nodded in understanding. That was a fair point. Strangely enough, tennis was a vulnerable sport.
"I'd be a better football player anyways."
He blinked, snapping his head back to you. "You would?" He asked, unsure if he would like the answer you would give.
You nodded casually, eyes following the ball in action in zig-zag patterns. "Learnt a thing or two from Pedri. So you know... if the racing thing ever fails..." You dryly trailed off, grin stretched on to your face.
Oscar bit his lip, unbothered to hide the slight pained expression on his face. He breathed in. "How come you never told me about him?" He finally asked the question he had been thinking about for weeks now. You had spent two years with the guy, and he had known nothing about it. And perhaps it didn't bother him back then but it sure as hell bothered him now when he was still seeing your ex's face in the paddock.
You mended your brows, turning your head to him. "I told you in Paris," you retorted.
"Yeah, but I mean before that. I mean we barely talked to each other before the season started."
You swallowed quietly. Oh. That was the line you were going down. "Well, we were both busy," you said vaguely. "I didn't think you needed to really know about it. Or that you really care," you shrugged.
"But—" Oscar sighed, trying to find the right words. "—it was like you had basically cut off contact."
You breathed in uncomfortably, trying to focus your attention on the match. Lines. Drawn lines. You knew what you were doing. "I think things just got really intense," you said after some time. "Every other day was a conversation about my seat. My future. I think I was scared it would disappear when I was so close to it, you know? My relationships with everyone kinda got sacrificed along the way. So I focused on the people who were nearby at the time. So… sorry,” you smiled tightly.
Oscar tried to discern the look on your face. You weren’t telling the truth. At least not the full version of it. But he didn't want to push you. "Well, you've made it now," he murmured, giving you a gentle nudge. "Don't go ghosting me."
You chuckled softly, shaking your head, reverting your eyes back to the match with a quiet breath. If only he knew how much effort you had spent to ensure you were completely and perfectly normal in moments like these. Not the fourteen-year-old with hopes and one too many daydreams. Just normal you.
You opened the door, unfazed by the familiar figure in front of you. You had seen a lot of it in the past few weeks or so. "You know… I’m beginning to think you should just live here, Osc."
Oscar Piastri had practically been invading every second of your peace since this break had started. You didn't know how he knew what you had planned but you were almost bumping into him every other day. Grocery shopping. On runs. Even at the gym. And Lord... that was dangerous territory.
The only break you recently had was your few days back in Brackley.
Oscar simply smiled, walking past you as he entered your apartment. "I'm unopposed to the idea. Beats having to walk to ten minutes back and forth," he sighed, slumping himself onto your couch like he had owned.
You frowned at the sight. It was so... natural. Like he belonged there. As if he had just come from a long day of work and plopped himself right there. A routine. Shoes off. Traversing your apartment like the back of his hand. He knew where your cutlery was. That your light switches were actually swapped around thanks to the stupid electrician who previously worked on them.
You blinked yourself away from the thought. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at his peering gaze. "You're lazy for an athlete," you joked, maintaining a careful distance between him and the armrest of your couch. You sucked in a sharp breath. "Speaking of... I'm supposed to be working out."
An unimpressed grunt fell from Oscar's lips. He shifted on your couch, perking up so his brown eyes focused on you a little more. "It's eight in the evening. Do you ever relax? Why do you have to be doing something every second?"
You scrunched your face at him. "I don't do that.
You had only just spent the entire day looking over old races and data sheets and eyeing some of the potential upgrades the team could bring to the car. Work outside of work. That's what you had been doing.
"Yes, you do. It's like you're afraid of being unproductive," he retorted, raising his brows to make a point.
You mended your own brows, folding your arms as arms as the confusion wavered over you. "Well... what's the point in doing that?"
He tilted his head in disbelief. Without a second thought, he leaned over, hand wrapping around your wrist before he pulled you down with a swift tug. A yelp escaped your lips as you fell awkwardly half onto Oscar and half against your couch.
You blinked rapidly, heat immediately pouring into your face when you spotted the grin on Oscar's face. Your head instinctively leaned back as he inched closer. Your breath caught in your throat, heart slamming in your chest. All of a sudden, it was difficult to look away from him.
Your head screamed. Lines. LINES! Those goddamn lines.
"Learn to relax a little more," Oscar murmured, brown eyes warmly looking over your face. He smiled quietly at your small gulp, head tilting so he could grab your remote from the coffee table. “So sit and watch."
You swallowed thickly, heat growing in your cheeks when you looked down at the space between the both of you. Your hands retracted from his grasp instantly, lifting yourself up as your head rigidly moved towards your flat screen and you curled yourself into the corner of your couch.
A few minutes passed. You hadn't caught an inch of what was playing. Some show about some family. You were far too occupied with the constant flicker of those eyes boring into your head for seconds at a time.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you snapped your head towards him. "I'm relaxing," you grumbled, throwing a nearby cushion at his side, wishing he would stop.
Oscar hummed unsurely, quiet grin apparent on his face, jaw leaning on his hand as he reluctantly turned back to the screen, barely watching.
Night had fallen earlier than you had imagined. Much easier when you had fallen asleep. Apparently, you had taken the term 'relax' a little too close to home.
Oscar, of course, didn't mind. Not when you were half against him, quietly snoring away. He had paused the show probably a little more than an hour ago when he first felt the graze of your head fall against him. And the silence had kicked in, and his heart skipped one too many beats and as he watched you inch closer to him almost instinctively.
Before he knew it, he was fast asleep too. Arm hung around your body, keeping you close against his chest as his head tipped back onto the couch.
An hour had passed. The warmth between the both of you was immeasurable. If it wasn't for the constant ping of your phones, he probably would've slept forever. He had never quite slept like this. It was entirely different from Greece. The warmth of acceptance over his feelings made him feel... complete.
But nonetheless, it was your phones that made you both shift, heavy-lidded eyes wincing as you escaped your momentary slumber. Your head tilted up, one hand pressed against his chest, the other rubbing your eye to clear your vision. The bright blare of your phone from the coffee table made you lean over, still too asleep to register that arm around you keeping you balanced.
You narrowed your gaze at the series of text:
lando
guys i swear to god
if you two don't jump in the goddamn sea
i will hold this over your heads for forever
Iim picking a nice photo for your stories as we speak
You huffed with disbelief over your phone. You slowly turned your head to Oscar who was eyeing his own screen. "Fancy jumping into the sea right now?"
A tired grin stretched onto his face. "Ah yes. A dip into the sea in the middle of the night," he yawned, eyes flickering over to his arm resting over your waist. He pressed his lips together. "Just what I needed."
About to roll your eyes, you looked down at his arm, following where it connected. Your skin flamed as you met the soft gaze staring back at you. You swallowed quietly. Okay. Breathe. This was… normal. Everything about this was normal. There was nothing strange at all.
You cleared your throat, awkwardly stretching out to the other side of the couch. "Um, well," you started, very obviously stretching your arms, one leg out to begin standing up. "I have bathers. We can end this once and for all."
Oscar raised his brows at your words, hand already feeling the loss of heat as you had move away. "What are we waiting for then?"
"That looks... freezing," Oscar commented, brown eyes wavering over the darkened water under the moonlight. There was not a single soul in sight, the noise and clamber in the depths of some alleyway in Monaco where the sports cars were. He turned over to you; arms folded against his chest. "Did Lando consider we could get hypothermia from this?"
You made a face at Oscar. In his most rarest moments, his exaggeration often sounded like Hattie's. "We're already here," you grumbled, peeking over the cliff. "I'm not going home to find a picture of Lando in the group chat."
You sighed, drifting your hands to remove your shoes. You breathed in at the damp, cold grains of sand and dirt against your feet. Okay... it was a little cold. For the summer night at least. And he light breeze against the parts of your exposed legs did nothing to help. You folded your arms, now frowning at the sea of water in front of you. You turned back to him. "We need do to this before I back out. Because I'm already close."
Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, nodding in agreement as he took off his own shoes. "It'll only be for a few minutes. All we have to do is take a picture after as proof," he reassured the both of you.
"Like exposure therapy," you added unsurely.
He raised his brows sceptically. "Sure," he agreed, hands reaching towards the hems of his hoodie and shirt in one go.
You swallowed, turning back to look at the cliff before yourself staring at something you shouldn’t have. One problem after another...
You unzipped your jacket, immediately regretting it with the rush of wind swarming your top-half. Fucking hell... You pressed your lips, pushing your jacket off your shoulders, letting it pool on the ground. Tugging awkwardly at your shorts, you inched slightly closer towards the small cliff just a few metres above the water. An eerie feeling swirled in your stomach as you looked down.
You weren't sure if it was the air or the slight traumatic fear of heights from Albert Park, but you had a bad feeling about this.
A strained breath caught in your throat. You shook your head, hands at your side. "I don't think I can do this," you admitted to Oscar, still eyeing the water with heavy caution. "I mean it's dark. How do we know the water is even deep enough? What if we hit our heads or something?"
Your head turned at the warmth spreading into your palm as Oscar grabbed your hand. You looked down at your intertwined fingers then slowly back up his bare chest before you met his gaze, eyes slightly wide.
He gave your hand a small squeeze, glimpses of those brown eyes shining under the moonlight. "We'll do it together."
You blinked after a while, swallowing hard as you nodded slowly. Great. If you weren’t nervous enough before. You sure as hell were now. Even in this slight cold, you were sweating from the feel of his hand in yours, stagnant and not going anywhere. The both of you so exposed and so close together, bare shoulder touching one another, knuckles against your body. You breathed in. "On three?"
Oscar tipped his head in agreement, fingers tightening around yours. "One."
You pursed your lips, heart beginning to pace. "Two," you uttered out after one too many seconds.
"Three!"
The crisp night air wrapped around the both of you as you pushed yourselves off, gravity impossible to determine under the moonlight, stomachs churning wildly. Bracing for impact, your eyes shut while the sharply cold water splashed against you harshly. Even as you spent those few seconds underwater, Oscar never let go of your hand. Not once.
The gasp for air was dire as you came up, hands now naturally pulling apart to clear your faces, movements rigid and stiff.
"This... is fucking freezing," Oscar swore, pushing his hair back from his face, goosebumps littering his skin. In this particular moment, he wasn’t quite convinced it was summer.
You nodded, shivering almost instantly. "Move. You need to move. Build the heat," you said, waving your hands through the water to keep you afloat.
"I've heard body heat also is good."
You blinked blankly at his suggestion. Had he hit the water too hard? While your skin burned at the thought, you curled a wave of water towards him. There. That would wake him up.
Oscar almost winced, blinking through the droplets as his arms covered his face. Wordlessly and with a haunting smirk, he waded through the water, hands already reaching out to grab you. But after you peeled your eyes away from the trails of water glistening over his chest under the moon, you could see what he was planning from a mile away.
"Oh hell no," you muttered, sending endless waves while your legs scrambled through the water, trying to get you as far away from him as you could. The smile on your face was automatic, eyes squinting at the trickles of water up in the air.
"You shouldn't start things you can't win," Oscar tsked over the loud waves, chest heaving while he watched you swim backwards, amused grin wide on your face.
"Who's says I'm not winning?" You poked your tongue out, splashing him from afar yet again.
He rolled his eyes, inching closer towards you. “You should start playing fair then. I can't win if you keep distracting me," he sighed loudly.
You raised a brow, slowing your arms in the water. "Distracting you? It's only water. Don't be such a baby," you teased.
He waded in the water, pressing his lips. You couldn’t see him the way he saw you right now. Moonlight sparkling all over you, leaving you to shine in the ripples of the water. Smile as bright at that very light. Hair soaked, water droplets travelling down your body.
Distracting didn't even begin to cover it.
You exhaled quietly at his silent stare, body now slowly warming up to the water. Pushing yourself onto your back, you floated through the water, looking at the dark night sky quietly, trying to think of something other than those brown eyes boring into you. "You know... " you said after some time, "I'm the one who's leading right now. But why does it feel like I'm the one who freaking lost?"
"Well," Oscar started, voice suddenly a whole lot closer. Almost close enough to make you lose your balance. "You did bet on me. So... you kinda did lose. The journalists would love that, wouldn’t they?"
You made a face even though he couldn't quite see it. "They're tearing us apart out there, you know? Headline after headline. I don’t think we’ll be friends in their story by the end of the season," you chuckled softly, trying to spot any glimpse of the stars.
A frown made his way onto his face. His eyes slowly traced your side profile, memorising every curve as he spoke, "I mean... does it really matter? As long as we know who we are, the headlines don’t win," he said, gaze falling on your tattoo peeking out of your shorts.
You hummed idly, closing your eyes while you mulled over his words. He was right. They only won if you let them. "True. Nothing could break fifteen years of friendship," you murmured into the night sky.
Oscar swallowed your words, heart whirring. "Right?" He queried hopefully, inching closing towards you. His hand reached out hesitantly, fingertips shaking but not quite from the cold as they brushed your cheek. "You promise?" He murmured.
You opened your eyes at his question, momentarily startled by his proximity, sending your body out of balance against the water. You swallowed tightly as Oscar's hands curled around both of your arms stabilising you, leaving barely inches between the both of you. You could feel his breath, warm against your cold skin. See the heave of his chest. The gentle gaze of his eyes.
You blinked, confused. "You're one of my closest friends, Osc. Of course," you whispered, eyes unfaithfully dropping to his lips.
He moved one hand from your arm, cradling your cheek, thumb grazing over the heat flushing your skin. His breath stuttered as he drifted closer, leaning down while he tilted your chin up, forehead barely skimming yours. Your pulse jumped as his eyes flickered up to yours.
His word was brief. An ushered breath of hope.
"Good."
It was slow the way he brought his lips to yours. Careful and controlled. As though he had been out of practice. Like he was walking on glass, and he didn't want it to break.
His touch on you was so minimal, but God, it made your stomach churn. And it was completely random. Yet your movements felt rehearsed. Natural. The knock of your noses and tilt of your head for something more. His other hand fell to your waist, lingering like he was afraid you’d disappear. But the graze of your fingers just above the waistband of his shirt almost made him shiver.
Even amidst the coldness of the water, you were like two flames. Exploring the taste of moonlight and water around you, consumed. For a second, the water felt like lava itself. Everything about this surreal.
The soft noises from your lips. The deeper tilt of his head. The echo of your heart in your ears.
This was what you had dreamed about for years. This very moment. To be so close to him. To be in that position where you liked him and he finally—
Reality came crashing over you hard. Colder than the water you were in. Like a slap in the face.
What were you doing?
Oscar blinked as you pushed yourself away from him, brief smile fading as confusion poured onto his face. He could see your wide eyes, parted lips wrapping around nothing because you couldn’t quite get the words out. A harsh pang hit his heart as he recognised the small shake of your head.
"No. ___—"
But you had already turned, legs feeling heavy against the water while you waded closer towards the coast.
Oscar swallowed, fear creeping into his chest faster than he could think. He called your name once again. Twice more as he followed after you, heart now slamming in his chest at your reaction. The damp sand had reached his feet before his hand wrapped around your wrist, forcing you to stop for just a moment.
"What happened? D-Did I do something?" He queried, mended brows tilting with worry, brown eyes staring down at you, concerned and torn.
You breathed, chest heaving. "I need to leave," you stated, already looking for the closest route to get back to the cliff. Back to your clothes. Back to home.
"What?" He asked, more confused than ever. "But... I don't understand. What just happened, that was—"
"—wrong. That was wrong," you finished, pulling your hand out of his grasp, stepping back on your foot. The eerie feeling you had felt before now curled low in your stomach. Christ. You needed to get home now.
Oscar rubbed his face with his hands, trying to make sense of this situation while his heart gnawed at your words. Wrong. "Can you just stay?" He queried as he looked back at you. "Please? Stay and let's talk about this," he pleaded, voice careful and strained.
You shook your head, unable to even look at him as the sting behind your eyes began to form. "I... I need to get out of here."
"I don't understand. Why do you have to leave? Just stay with me and talk about this," he begged, hurt crossing his face in such a manner it made your heart clench. And yet your frustration grew.
"Why don't you understand that if I stay here for even a minute longer then—" You stopped yourself with a small gasp, eyes wide and breath shaky when you finally looked at him, reading his pain clearly.
Oscar breathed in sharply. "Then what, ___?"
Your chest uncomfortably tightened with the weight of it all. You were tired. God, you were tired. How much effort had you put into this? To keep it going. To stop it. Every second of every day you had been trying to not succumb. It was exhausting.
"Then I'll fall in love with you... again," you admitted, glossy eyes pleading, head shaking. “And you won't... again."
The breath Oscar had taken felt raw. Like it was his last as you turned and walked away. His feet didn’t move. He couldn't move. Stuck with shoulders now burdened with the new philosophy.
"Doesn't matter though, right? Pedri's her first love who came to her race."
Oscar, I love you but you're an idiot."
Oh how wrong he had gotten it.
It was him all along.
His heart ached.
All these years. It was him.
But the glass had broken. It was shattered entirely. And all Oscar had was the broken shards to walk on
also thank you guys so muchhh for the love on the recent aby chapter 🤧 you guys are so sweet. i'm scared to write the next one... how am i gonna top it aghhhhh
