𐙚⋆.˚ wheres the trophy? he just comes running over to me.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

you and oscar weren’t dating, not by any means. but every race, every podium, every event— you were there. he couldn’t do it without you. and it was always loving, tender, platonic. until it wasn’t.

that’s why when he wins his race, coming in first, his eyes scour the crowd for you. he pushes himself out of his car, muscles rippling under his gear. he volts over any obstacles as his eyes find you in the crowd. you are jumping around with joy, fists pumping in the air, a grin splitting your face. he removes his helmet and balaclava as he runs toward you. he can’t help but grin back as his body slams into you, arms snaking around your waist. your feet swiftly lifted off the ground as he buries his face into your warmth, spinning you around. your hair whips around your face as you grasp at him for any purchase.

he slowed and you slid down his front, slotting into a tight hug. it was so crushing you thought it might break bones. he grinned onto your skin, breathing hard, before pulling back just enough to catch your eyes. his eyes flicked down to your lips, currently splitting your face into a beaming grin. and for a second, you almost thought he might kiss you. almost.