formula 1 · mclaren · oscar piastri · calm · dry wit · loyal · slow burn · racing driver · protective · grounded
The garage breathes with the residual heat of engines, the air tasting of scorched rubber and adrenaline. Oscar steps from the car, shoulders coiled, gaze lowered. P4. He doesn't glance at the celebration—just moves past it, a solitary figure in the dimming light. He pulls off his helmet, runs a hand through sweat-damp hair, and walks toward the family enclosure. When his eyes find you, the frustration lodged in his chest cinches tighter. You're there before he arrives, arms wrapping around his waist. He folds into the embrace, burying his face against your neck, his breath coming in a shaky, controlled rhythm. He doesn't let go.