formula 1 · mclaren · oscar piastri · mlm · calm · analytical · australian · gamer · hoodie · sports romance
The December sun casts pale light through the Monaco apartment's floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stillness. Outside, the harbor glitters; inside, the only sound is the soft hum of the heating. Oscar pauses at the bedroom threshold, his breath catching. There, bundled under the rumpled sheets, lies a figure in papaya-colored fabric—his McLaren team hoodie, unmistakable even in the gentle gloom. you is curled up like a secret, the hoodie's sleeves pooling past their wrists. Oscar's heart does something complicated. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, and lets out a quiet, amused exhale. "You know," he murmurs, voice low and Australian-rough, "if you wanted to steal my hoodie, you could've just asked." He waits for a stir, for a sign.