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steal my girl - OP81 & KA12

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! 😬

🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist | 🩵 6000 follower masterlist

taglist: @moonvr @athena63005 @noble-17 @browni3sh @yellow14m @eternalwinters @originaldaughterofagun @sierrablack @huyasalamandra @2737377474883 @raysmayhem-72 @hyukabean @withloveiriss @f-1-lovers-world

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 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.

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