Hi, I dont know if you take requests but if you do. Could you write a soft piastri fic with a girlfriend who gets mad at McLaren for some of the things they do, like swapping them when lando has a slow pit stop. Just a soft fic
summary: comforting Oscar after Papaya rules
authors note: thank you for the request! hope this is what you were looking for and everyone feel free to send in!
You’re sitting in front of the screen in the lounge, the roar of engines and the chatter of commentators filling the room, but none of it really reaches you. Your eyes are locked on the race feed, every lap twisting your stomach tighter.
Oscar’s out on the track, pushing hard. You can see the determination in his every move, smooth lines, perfect braking, a quiet confidence that makes your chest swell with pride. But then…
You hold your breath as the pit crew scrambles, wheels stubbornly slow to come off. The seconds stretch out like hours. Then the call comes: McLaren’s decision to swap Oscar out and put Lando back in front.
Your heart sinks. It feels like a punch to the gut.
Why? You think, eyes wide and unfairly burning. Why would they do that when Oscar’s driving so well?
The commentators move on quickly, discussing the strategy, but you can’t shake the unfairness gnawing at you. You know racing is complicated, that teams have their plans and priorities—but watching Oscar get pulled out feels like a betrayal.
You chew your lip, hands clenched in your lap. The race continues, but your mind is on Oscar, on the frustration you can’t quite shake. It’s not just the team’s decisions; it’s the way it makes you feel helpless, watching him sidelined like that.
Finally, the race ends. You take a breath, still tense, and look up as footsteps approach.
Oscar appears in the doorway, his race suit slightly wrinkled, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His eyes catch yours immediately, and despite everything, his smile is warm and real.
You stand up, moving toward him. The frustration that had been building inside you starts to melt away at the sight of him, always so steady.
“I saw the pit stop,” you say quietly, your voice thick with emotion. “It didn’t feel fair. You were doing so well.”
Oscar takes your hands in his, his touch gentle but grounding. “I know. I felt it too. But sometimes the team has their reasons.”
You shake your head, needing to say it aloud. “But it’s your race. You deserve to be out there.”
He sighs, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I appreciate that. Honestly, it means everything that you believe in me, even when the decisions don’t go my way.”
You lean into him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.
“I’m here,” you whisper. “Always in your corner. No matter what.”
Oscar wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “That’s all I need.”
The silence that follows isn’t empty—it’s full of unspoken understanding. You breathe in the familiar scent of his suit, a mixture of rubber, sweat, and something uniquely Oscar. It grounds you, pulls you away from the bitterness of the race’s outcome.
After a moment, Oscar pulls back just enough to look down at you, his eyes soft but serious.
“You know,” he says quietly, “sometimes it’s hard not to let moments like today get under my skin. To not question if I’m enough, if I’m doing the right thing.”
You lift your chin, meeting his gaze. “I think everyone does. But it doesn’t change how incredible you are out there. You’re fierce. You’re determined. You’re more than just the team’s decisions.”
His smile falters just a little, touched with vulnerability. “Thanks. That means more than you know.”
You brush a stray curl from his forehead, fingers lingering against the warmth of his skin. “We’re in this together, remember?”
He chuckles softly, a sound that feels like home. “Yeah, we are.”
You take his hand again, fingers weaving together naturally. “So what now?”
Oscar shrugs, leaning back against the wall, still holding you close. “I’ve gotta go talk to the team. Debrief and all that.
You nod, “Meet me after and we’ll head out?”
He hums in acknowledgment, “See you in a bit.”
You and Oscar step out of the paddock into the cool evening air. He’s been quiet since your talk after the race, the tension from his conversation with the team still lingering in his expression. His jaw is tight, and you notice the way his shoulders slump just a little.
“Hey,” you say gently as you walk toward the car, slipping your hand into his. “You okay?”
He sighs, a little annoyed but trying not to let it show too much. “Yeah. Just... frustrating stuff. You know how these team talks go. Lots of words, not much that makes sense.”
You squeeze his hand, wanting to ease the weight on him. “Want to rant?”
Oscar chuckles softly, a small, tired sound. “Maybe later. Right now, I just want to get back and crash.”
The car ride is quiet but not uncomfortable. When you get back to the hotel room, Oscar kicks off his shoes and drops his bag by the door.
He flops down on the bed with a sigh and pats the space beside him. “Come here.”
You sit next to him, and he immediately pulls you in close, wrapping his arms around you like you’re the best thing in the world.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” he murmurs into your hair.
You tilt your head up to meet his eyes, smiling softly. “Me too.”
Oscar’s fingers find yours, lacing together with gentle warmth. “I hate how things went today. Feels like no matter what I do, it’s not enough for the team.”
You brush your hand over his cheek, feeling the slight stubble and the warmth beneath. “You’re amazing. Today, yesterday, every day. The team just doesn’t always see what everyone else sees.”
He presses his forehead to yours, voice low and tender. “You always see me. That’s what matters.”
You lean into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. He sighs happily, pulling you even closer until there’s no space between you.
“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers.
“Me too,” you reply, eyes closed, completely at ease.
Oscar’s hands roam softly, tracing patterns on your back, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.
“You’re my calm after the storm,” he says, voice rough but sweet.
You smile, your fingers tangling in his hair. “And you’re my favorite person to come home to.”
He chuckles, a deep, warm sound vibrating through you. “Good. Because I plan on cuddling you all night.”
You laugh softly. “You better.”
For the rest of the night, it’s just quiet whispers, soft touches, and the feeling of being exactly where you both need to be, wrapped up in each other, safe and loved.
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