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imthebadguyyy

Jul 20, 2021

Masterlist

All my writing. Will be updated when a new fic is posted 🤍

last updated - 9/12/2025 masterlist II last updated 9/12/2025

link to part ii of my master list ♥︎ -> masterlink (II)

link to my series the tortured poets department 🤍 -> tortured poets department

1. Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Dancing In The Dark

Dancing in the dark with your lover, does it get any better ?

You're My Future

Where Daniel realizes that his future is right there, playing with his nephew.

Rendezvous*

A game of never have I ever with your friends in Amalfi reveals some information about yourself that just does not sit right with Daniel. He decides to prove to you just how good he is at his job.

2. Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Bubble Baths

It's been a stressful day, and your lover is there to make it better.

God, I Love You

Its been a tiring couple of race weeks, and you just want to love on your man

Motivate

song writing sessions in the studio gave birth to Motivate, so it seems only fitting that your boyfriend should be there to hear it on its premiere.

Wildside*

You've been on tour for a while, and you miss your loverboy. But when he surprises you on tour, its bound to get spicy.

We're Meant To Be

After a messy fight, you don't know where your relationship stands. But when love is that strong, an argument can't stand in the way.

You're All Mine*

Things get slightly out of hand at a party where you decide to act up, and Lewis shows you just exactly who you belong to. P.S - He makes you wear that damn jacket.

Lace Fantasy*

Met Gala prep but with a sultry surprise

Baby Angel (instagram au)

Lewis and you post about incoming baby Hamilton ❤️

Temporary Fix* II*

You're the only female F1 driver, and you're damn good at your job. Oh, and you also have a friends with benefits relationship with a certain 7x World Champion.

Mykonos (instagram au)

dating rumours make their rounds

Partition*

the one where you can't keep your hands to yourself in the back of your car.

My Champion*

the one in which you reward him after the brazilian grand prix

Dress*

all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, my hands are shaking from holding back from you

The 1 (part one) part ii

two halves collide, break apart, only to collide again

Purple Frosting

you have a special birthday morning 💜

Baby Steps

your baby girl takes her first steps 💗

Moments

in the midst of travelling and races through the years, lewis picks his favourite domestic moments with his love.

(i) On His Thighs. (ii) On His Tongue

• after seeing lewis flexing his legs on the boat in monaco, you can’t help but want to ride his thigh.

• after the whole thigh riding in the car saga, lewis decides his car should be home to even more adventures with you.

Toffee

who knew some toffee was all it would take to make years of pent up feelings spill over for your best friend?

Sugar Sweet Kisses and Velvet Caresses

lewis can't quite keep his eyes off at you at the fia prize giving, but little does he know you can't keep your eyes off of him either.

Silverstone *

you celebrate lewis' win, and show him just how proud of him you are.

3. Charles Leclerc x Reader

Mon Amour

You've grown up with Charles, and as much as you hate to admit it, you love him. Pierre knows, and clearly sees how desperately Charles loves you too. It's true what they say, love will always find a way.

Something Just Like This

a reflection of your relationship.

Something Just Like This (ii)

a reflection of your relationship.

Lay All Your Love On Me (iii)

a reflection of your relationship

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince *

synopsis : you're the only female driver on the f1 grid, and have a secret relationship with ferrari's golden boy.

Pt II

4. Max Verstappen x Reader (discontinued)

I mean, you're pretty damn gorgeous

You're Max's teammate, and the only female driver to come so far in Formula 1. Having first signed with Toro Rosso, it wasn't long before your incredible talent had you promoted to RedBull, alongside Max. But God, why had no one prepared him for how gorgeous you were ?

You Scared Me To Death!

When you get hurt, Max realizes just how much you mean to him.

Nobody Like You

Being in a girlband, every relationship, friendship, and public moment is scrutinized. A breakup that was heavily publicized, left you heartbroken but still in love. When there's the tinge of a second chance, you grasp it.

Notice*

It's been a while since he's noticed, you don't think he cares.

5. Pierre Gasly x Reader

Flower Charms

Pierre has been your best friend since you were nine. A timeline of your relationship.

6. Mick Schumacher x Reader

Movie Night Cuddles

its in the title really ♥︎

7. Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Fix You

lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and i will try to fix you

8. Carlos Sainz x reader

Everything Has Changed

synopsis : healing from a relationship in which you never felt loved is made easier when your a certain ferrari drive feels like home and changes your perception on love.

Earned It*

synopsis : you and carlos celebrate his gp win

9. Oscar Piastri x Reader

The Boy Next Door Was Never Just The Boy Next Door

synopsis : two best friends growing up together, always a little closer than just friends, even when life pulls them apart. and somehow, no matter where they go or who they become, they always end up tied back to each other like they were never really meant to let go in the first place.

The Boy Next Door Was Never Just The Boy Next Door II

The Boy Next Door Was Never Just The Boy Next Door III

The Boy Next Door Was Never Just The Boy Next Door IV

The Boy Next Door Was Never Just The Boy Next Door V

Sixth Member of One Direction -

Thats Our Baby

Y/N L/N is the sixth member of One Direction, the biggest band in the world. When one of her best friends announces he's leaving, how do they cope?

Another 10 Minutes

Zayn is known for his love for sleep. You adore it just as much. When you have a team meeting at 5 AM in the morning, will the boys be able to wake you up ?

Baby's First Brits (After the Hiatus)

Just Harry and Niall being incredibly proud of baby direction when she wins her first ever solo Brit award

Head cannons for being the sixth member

Headcannons for being put together in a band on X Factor.

The One Where They're There For Her

An interview is incredibly sexist towards baby direction. But the boys have her back.

Made In The A.M (instagram au)

the recording process and final product in instagram posts

Christmas

headcanons for Christmas preparations with your boys ❤️

Harry Styles x Reader

late night talking

harry and you've been doing some late night talking

Marvel

1. Peter Parker x Reader

hurt

peter's hurting, and you're there for him

2. Avengers x Reader (mutual)

Arsonist's Lullaby

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep em on a leash

3. Steve Rogers x Reader

Hold Me In Your Arms Tonight *

steve needs your love and embrace after a hard mission

Coming Back Home To You

after a new threat wreak havoc on the team, steve suggests a safehouse with a surprise awaiting them inside.

SERIES : IRON HEARTS

With the same fire and charm that runs in the Stark bloodline, you’ve never been one to fade into the background.

Episode 1 : Collide

As Tony Stark’s younger sister, you’ve always shared his brilliance and bold personality. Outgoing, witty, and never afraid to speak your mind, you’re just as comfortable stealing the spotlight as your brother is. But when Tony ropes you into joining the Avengers' operations after the Chitauri invasion, the last thing you expect is to clash with Captain America, Steve Rogers—a man so different from the fast-paced world you’re used to.

Steve’s stoic, old-fashioned values collide with your free-spirited nature, sparking a connection that’s as electric as it is infuriating. As the Avengers face new threats, you and Steve find yourselves drawn together in unexpected ways, each challenge bringing you closer. The world is always in need of saving—but will the Iron legacy and a shielded heart leave room for something more?

#masterlist #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagines #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagines #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #harry styles x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #liam payne x reader #zayn malik x reader #niall horan x reader #one direction x reader #one direction imagines #imthebadguyyyfics #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x reader smut #mick schumacher blurb #mick schumacher imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly smut #oscar piastri x reader

imthebadguyyy

Jun 28

imthebadguyyy

The Boy Next Door Was Never Just The Boy Next Door V

pairing : oscar piastri x reader fandom : f1 synopsis : two best friends growing up together, always a little closer than just friends, even when life pulls them apart. and somehow, no matter where they go or who they become, they always end up tied back to each other like they were never really meant to let go in the first place. a/n : pt v out finally!! enjoy divas, love u all very much, so sorry for the delay, was very caught up.

pt i pt ii pt iii pt iv

the next morning, you wake up convinced that the previous night must have been some sort of fever dream, because surely people don't spend years missing each other, confess their feelings in a hotel corridor, kiss like they've been waiting a decade for it, and then wake up expected to function normally the next day.

surely.

unfortunately for you, formula one does not care about emotional crises.

formula one waits for no one.

not heartbreak, not reconciliation, not childhood best friends who finally kissed after years of yearning.

so somehow you find yourself walking through the paddock the next morning with nicole, your mum, hattie, edie and mae.

your stomach is doing things that should probably be medically investigated.

everything is overwhelming. the noise, the movement, the crowds. the endless sea of team kit and cameras and journalists.

oscar had always talked about Formula One.

you'd watched the races, of course you had. cheering for him with a broken heart nonetheless, because even if he was far away, even if he didn't talk to you as much anymore, he was always your osc.

watched the interviews, watched the highlights.

watched him achieve the dream he'd been chasing since he was a little boy racing karts.

but seeing it in person feels different.

bigger.

like stepping inside a story you've only ever read from the outside, and everywhere you look there are reminders of him.

pictures, team posters. mclaren branding everywhere.

people wearing shirts with his name on the back.

your chest does a strange little flip every time. because somehow your oscar and formula one driver oscar piastri are still the same person, even if your brain hasn't fully caught up yet.

the morning passes in a blur, with meeting people, exploring the garage, trying very hard not to hyperventilate whenever someone casually references the fact that oscar is one of the best drivers on the grid.

you're standing with nicole and your mother outside the hospitality area when someone clears their throat behind you.

you turn, and immediately freeze.

oscar is standing there, holding flowers.

an absurd amount of flowers.

the bouquet is genuinely enormous. large enough that it almost obscures half his torso.

calla lilies.

asiatic lilies.

roses.

your favourites, all of them.

for a second your brain simply refuses to process what it's seeing. oscar shifts slightly, looking suspiciously nervous for a man who drives Formula One cars.

"hi."

you stare.

he holds out the bouquet, and your mouth opens.

then closes.

then opens again. behind you, your mother makes a sound suspiciously similar to a strangled squeal. nicole immediately grabs her arm.

"oh my god."

"nicole—"

"oh don't nicole me."

meanwhile hattie, edie and mae are visibly losing their minds.

"HE GOT HER FLOWERS."

"THAT'S SO CUTE."

"HE'S NEVER GOT ME FLOWERS."

"mae, that's because you're his sister."

"I DON'T CARE."

oscar visibly regrets bringing the flowers in front of his family. you are bright red. actually bright red.

oscar looks equally embarrassed, which somehow makes it worse. "it's just..." he starts. then awkwardly rubs the back of his neck.

"it's your first race."

your heart immediately does something dangerous. he shrugs, trying and failing to look casual. "thought maybe you should have flowers."

on the bouquet is a small card.

simple handwriting.

welcome to your first f1 race, bug.

thought i'd finally bring you flowers instead of stealing them from people's gardens.

— osc

the nickname nearly kills you, because he hasn't called you that in years. and suddenly you're twelve again.

ten.

eight.

five.

you hug the bouquet to your chest, unable to stop smiling despite yourself.

"thank you."

the look on his face is immediate. soft, relieved.

like your smile matters entirely too much to him. and unfortunately for both of you—

every woman in your families notices.

immediately.

the teasing is merciless. pscar eventually escapes before race preparations begin. though not before Nicole whispers something in his ear that makes him go bright red.

by the time race time arrives, the atmosphere has changed completely.

everything feels sharper, more intense, more serious. the garage buzzes with energy : mechanics moving, engineers speaking rapidly into headsets, screens glowing with data. and somewhere amongst all of it—

oscar.

focused, calm, utterly locked in.

you watch him prepare.

and for a moment you're struck by the contrast, because this is still the boy who built treehouses with you. who stole your cookies while they were cooling. who cried into your hair at airport goodbyes. and yet somehow he's also this.

a formula one driver preparing to start a grand prix.

the realization leaves you emotional in ways you don't quite know how to describe. a few minutes before getting into the car, oscar finally makes his way over to where his family is standing.

nicole hugs him first, then his sisters. the usual pre-race routine.

and then his eyes find you. immediately. of course they do.

for a second the noise of the garage fades. you smile slightly. nervous. proud.

and suddenly his face changes, because he's recalling a memory.

something from when you were children, back when karting was still just karting. back before sponsors and media and Formula One.

when he used to get nervous before races. you had been eight, maybe nine.

and before every important race you'd do the same thing. atiny little tap against the side of his helmet.

then you'd say:

"okay. now you'll win." complete nonsense. absolutely no scientific basis whatsoever. but after a while it became tradition.

then ritual.

then superstition.

eventually it became yours.

and now—

standing in a Formula One garage years later—

oscar taps the side of his helmet twice.

then points at you.

the gesture is tiny, barely noticeable, but your breath catches instantly. because you know exactly what it means.

his eyes soften behind the visor.

just slightly.

and for one brief second—

he looks exactly like the little boy sitting in a go-kart waiting for you to tell him he'll be okay.

you smile.

then, quietly, so only he can hear:

"okay."

a beat.

your chest swelling with something warm and painful and hopeful all at once.

"now you'll win."

the grin that breaks across his face is immediate.

boyish.

familiar.

home.

and as he climbs into the car, disappearing beneath the helmet and the expectations and the pressure and the noise—

you realize something.

the flowers, the card, the nickname, the helmet tap. the way he'd found time in the busiest day of his life to make sure you knew you mattered.

none of it fixes the years.

none of it erases the hurt.

but for the first time in a very long time—

you can see him trying.

really trying.

and somehow that means almost as much as the words ever could.

because the invisible string that had stretched halfway across the world between the two of you had never actually broken.

it had simply gone taut. and now, slowly, carefully, with flowers and helmet taps and stubborn determination—

oscar was pulling himself back along it toward home.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the race is genuinely one of the most stressful experiences of your entire life, and that's saying something considering you've sat university exams worth half your degree.

nothing—

absolutely nothing—

could have prepared you for the emotional warfare of watching someone you love drive a Formula One car.

because suddenly every corner feels life-threatening. every pit stop feels catastrophic. every radio message makes your heart stop.

by lap ten, you've already chewed through half a fingernail.

by lap twenty-five, nicole has confiscated your water bottle because you keep forgetting to drink.

by lap forty, hattie has informed everyone that you're beginning to resemble a victorian woman suffering from consumption.

and honestly? she's not entirely wrong.

you are a wreck. a complete wreck.

oscar spends most of the race leading.

which somehow makes it worse, because now there's something to lose. every safety car restart makes your stomach drop. every tyre strategy update feels like life-or-death information. every time another car gets within a second of him, your soul briefly leaves your body.

"how do you people do this every weekend?" you ask at one point.

nicole laughs.

"we don't."

"what?"

"we panic every weekend."

that somehow makes sense.

because every member of the piastri family looks equally stressed.

even mae has stopped talking, which should honestly qualify as a medical emergency. meanwhile oscar sounds completely calm over the radio.

like a fucking psychopath, you think to yourself.

you decide racing drivers must simply be built differently. the final ten laps are unbearable. actually unbearable.

your heart is beating so hard you're convinced the people around you can hear it. the gap behind him shrinks. then grows. then shrinks again.

the commentators are practically screaming. the garage is standing. the engineers are staring at screens like their lives depend on them.

and all you can think is:

please.

not because he's a Formula One driver.

not because it's important.

because he's oscar.

the little boy who used to race remote-control cars with you in the garden.

the teenager who built you treehouses.

the person who has spent his entire life chasing this dream.

and somehow you want it for him almost as badly as he wants it for himself.

then—

finally—

the last lap.

the entire garage holds its breath.

one more sector.

one more corner.

one more straight.

then the chequered flag waves. and oscar wins.

for a second your brain doesn't process it. the words arrive first. the screaming. the celebration. the radios exploding with noise. then reality catches up.

oscar won.

oscar actually won.

and suddenly you're crying, not elegant tears. not cinematic tears. full-blown emotional collapse. your hands fly over your mouth.

nicole is crying.

your mother is crying.

hattie is crying.

mae is crying.

everyone is crying.

the entire McLaren garage erupts. mechanics hugging each other, engineers jumping, people shouting. champagne already appearing from somewhere.

and before you can fully comprehend what's happening, somebody is ushering all of you toward parc fermé. everything becomes movement.

noise. celebration. orange everywhere.

you're practically being swept along by the current. then you see him.

still climbing out of the car. still pulling off his helmet. still looking slightly stunned. the crowd is roaring.

the cameras are everywhere. the team is waiting. the podium is waiting.

and yet—

the moment his helmet comes off, his eyes immediately start searching.

looking.

until they find you. across all the chaos. across all the people. across all the noise. you.

and something happens to his face. something that makes your chest physically ache. because the smile that appears isn't the smile he gives cameras, or journalists, or sponsors.

it's the smile you've known since you were five years old.

the one that always belonged to you. and before anyone can stop him, before zak can grab him, before the team reaches him, before the podium ceremony begins, before interviews,

oscar starts running.

actually running.

straight toward you.

the crowd is cheering.

the team is shouting.

someone is trying to direct him elsewhere.

he ignores literally all of it.

you barely have time to react, because one second you're standing there, the next—

he's in front of you.

and then his arms are around you.

hard. not polite. not careful. like he's operating entirely on instinct.

the impact nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

and then you're hugging him back immediately.

like your body made the decision before your brain did. the fireproof race suit is warm from the car. his hair is damp with sweat. his heart is hammering so hard against your chest you can feel it.

and he's laughing. actually laughing. the kind that only happens when joy becomes too large to contain.

"we did it." the words are muffled into your hair. breathless. disbelieving.

we.

not I.

we.

something inside you completely melts. "you did it," you whisper back, voice shaking.

"you did it, oscar." he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes are bright. overwhelmed. happy.

and for a second neither of you seems aware of the fact that approximately half the Formula One paddock is watching this happen.

including his family.

who are absolutely losing their minds.

nicole is openly crying now. your mother is crying. hattie looks one step away from starting a group chat titled FINALLY. even the McLaren mechanics are exchanging looks.

because apparently oscar piastri has just won a grand prix, and his first priority was finding one particular girl.

a girl clutching a giant bouquet of lilies and roses.

a girl he's looked at like home since he was five years old.

a girl he's spent years trying and failing to forget.

a girl who is currently standing in parc fermé with tears on her cheeks while he holds her like she's the thing he won.

eventually someone from the team yells that he needs to get to the podium. oscar groans dramatically.

"you have responsibilities," you tell him through a laugh. "i know."

"you literally just won a formula one race." "i know."

"you should probably get your trophy."

his eyes don't leave yours, not even for a second, and then he grins.

that same boyish grin from years ago.

"yeah," he says softly. a beat.

his hand squeezing yours once before he finally steps away. "but i found the important thing first." and somewhere behind you, nicole piastri makes a noise so emotional it sounds like she might actually ascend into heaven.

your hands are still clutching the front of his race suit. his are still wrapped around your waist. and for one perfect, impossible moment, it feels like the entire world has narrowed down to the two of you standing in the middle of parc fermé.

and suddenly, without thinking, without planning—

without considering that there are approximately eight hundred cameras pointed in your general direction—

you lean forward.

and press a small kiss against the side of his helmet.

right where he'd done the little race-day tap before he'd climbed into the car. the gesture is so instinctive. so natural. like something from childhood. oscar freezes.

actually freezes.

the smile falls from his face for half a second.

not because he's upset.

because he's overwhelmed. and then he looks at you. really looks at you.

and the expression on his face is so devastatingly soft that it makes you want to start immediately crying again.

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE."

"mum," hattie groans.

"LOOK AT THEM."

"we are."

"I WAITED YEARS FOR THIS."

meanwhile oscar is still staring at you.

like you just hung the moon. or personally designed the car that helped him win the race.

eventually the team physically drags him toward the podium ceremony, and even then

even then—

he keeps looking back every few seconds, like he's checking you're still there. like after all these years, part of him still isn't entirely convinced you're real. you end up standing with the team and his family below the podium.

the bouquet still clutched against your chest.

the crowd is deafening.

thousands upon thousands of people.

flags waving.

papaya everywhere.

and above it all— oscar.

standing on the top step.

the little boy from melbourne.

the teenager who left for england.

the man who just won a formula one grand prix.

the sight hits you unexpectedly hard, because suddenly you're remembering everything.

the treehouse, the airport goodbyes, the karting races, the letters, the late-night phone calls.

the years apart.

and somehow, somehow— he made it.

your eyes sting. oscar's trophy is handed to him.

the crowd erupts again. and naturally, the first thing he does is look for you. again.

lando notices immediately.

of course he does. because lando norris is standing one step below him on the podium. and unfortunately for oscar, he possesses eyes.

"mate."

oscar doesn't hear him. still looking at you. "mate."

nothing.

lando follows his line of sight.

sees you.

sees the bouquet.

sees the way oscar's expression changes every single time your eyes meet, and immediately starts grinning. the kind of grin that should honestly be classified as dangerous.

"oh my god."

oscar finally looks over.

"what?"

lando just shakes his head.

"you are absolutely cooked."

oscar rolls his eyes, but unfortunately for him, he knows exactly what lando means. because every time he looks down and sees you standing there—

he feels it.

that same feeling.

home.

the champagne ceremony begins.

which immediately descends into chaos.

as is tradition, bottles explode, champagne flies everywhere. the crowd goes wild.

oscar and lando are laughing, spraying each other, trying to dodge incoming attacks. and for a few moments, it looks normal.

then oscar spots you again. uh oh.

lando sees it happen. actually watches the thought form.

"no." oscar ignores him. "NO."

and before anyone can stop him, oscar angles the bottle. directly toward you.

a spray of champagne arcs through the air.

you let out a startled shriek as the cold liquid splashes across your dress. your hair. yhe flowers. the entire mclaren team starts laughing.

"OSCAR!"

his grin is immediate.

boyish.

triumphant.

the same grin he used to wear after stealing cookie dough from your kitchen. you point accusingly at him. he has absolutely zero remorse. lando is now doubled over laughing.

because somehow oscar piastri—

one of the calmest human beings on planet Earth—

has transformed into a complete idiot the second you showed up.

and everyone can see it. the mechanics can see it. zak can see it. his family can see it. hell, half the paddock can probably see it.

but Oscar doesn't seem to care. not today. because every time he looks down from that podium—

past the crowd, past the cameras, past the celebration—

he finds you.

and every single time—

without fail—

his smile grows.

the kind of smile that makes it obvious exactly what Lando had been talking about all along.

because the trophy might be in oscar's hands.

the champagne might be raining down around him. the crowd might be chanting his name. but from where lando is standing—

it is painfully obvious that the thing oscar keeps looking at isn't the trophy.

it's you.

and lando honestly can't stop grinning. because after months of hearing oscar miss you. after years of hearing stories. after witnessing the emotional disaster that was the previous evening—

the man is finally happy. truly.

uncomplicatedly.

radiantly happy.

and as champagne glitters in the sunlight and the crowd roars below—

oscar catches your eye one more time.

then taps the side of his helmet.

twice.

the same little gesture.

the same childhood superstition.

the same invisible string.

and your heart does that familiar, impossible thing it has always done for him.

even after all these years.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the celebrations seem to go on forever. everywhere you turn, someone is congratulating him. another interview. another photograph. another handshake. another sponsor appearance. another engineer wanting a picture with the trophy. the paddock feels like it's vibrating with excitement.

and through all of it, you keep catching glimpses of him.

across crowded rooms, over people's shoulders. between cameras and team personnel. every now and then his eyes find yours.

and every single time, without fail, his expression softens.

as though the rest of the day belongs to Formula One.

but that part belongs only to you.

still.

the celebrations continue. and you don't really mind.

because you've spent years waiting. a few hours doesn't seem so bad anymore. eventually, you're standing with nicole and your mum outside one of the hospitality areas.

the sun is beginning to dip lower.

the race is over.

the trophy has been won.

the adrenaline is finally starting to settle.

you're laughing at something edie is saying when suddenly—

"there he is." nicole's voice.

you turn, and immediately forget whatever conversation you were having. because oscar is walking toward you.

not walking.

actually—

no.

he's definitely moving faster than walking. his trophy has disappeared somewhere. his race suit is partially unzipped. (and god, he looks handsome in a way that sends your heart reeling). his hair is a mess.

and yet somehow your eyes still find his instantly. the moment he sees you looking at him, he smiles. not the podium smile. not the interview smile. the real one. the one you've loved your entire life.

and before you can even react, he reaches you. then immediately pulls you into his arms. hard. the force of it makes you laugh.

a surprised little sound escaping your throat.

"hi," you manage.

"hi."

and then—

because apparently oscar has completely abandoned all pretence of behaving normally, he lifts you. completely off the ground.

you let out a startled squeak.

"OSCAR."

your feet are no longer touching earth.

the entire piastri family immediately loses their minds.

"OH MY GOD."

"HE PICKED HER UP."

"we can all see that, Mae."

nicole has once again started crying.

at this point nobody is surprised. meanwhile oscar doesn't seem remotely interested in anyone else's reaction. because he's looking at you like you're the best thing that's happened to him all day. which is saying something considering he literally won a formula one race.

his arms tighten slightly around you. not enough to hurt. just enough to communicate something wordless.

something that sounds suspiciously like:

you're here.

you're really here.

for a second you just look at each other.

and suddenly everything slows. all of it blurring slightly at the edges. because there it is again. that feeling. the same one from the hotel.the same one from childhood. the same one from every goodbye and every reunion.

love.

not new.

not sudden.

just finally allowed to exist.

ancient in a way.

oscar eventually sets you back down. slowly. reluctantly. neither of you moves away afterwards. his hands are still resting lightly on your waist.

your heart is beating entirely too fast.

and he's looking at you with that same expression again.

the one that always makes your knees feel a little weak.

like he's seeing every version of you at once.

five years old.

twelve years old.

seventeen years old.

now.

all of them.

and suddenly you desperately want to recreate the feeling you felt.

the hotel corridor.

his confession.

the way he'd kissed you first.

the way he'd spent the entire day trying.

not with grand speeches, not with promises, but with flowers. with traditions. with effort. with showing up. and something inside you settles.

just a little.

not completely healed.

not magically fixed.

but enough.

enough to take one step forward. enough to choose.

oscar's eyes flick briefly to your lips.

the same way they always have.

the same way they did years ago before that almost-kiss.

the same way they did in the hotel.

and this time—

you don't let the moment slip away. you reach up. one hand finding the back of his neck.

his breath catches immediately.

then—

before he can overthink it—

before you can overthink it—

you kiss him.

you.

not because he asked. not because he moved first. because you wanted to. because after years of waiting and hurting and missing each other—

this choice is yours.

the surprise lasts exactly half a second.

then Oscar melts into it.

a soft, disbelieving sound escaping him.

like he genuinely wasn't expecting it.

like despite everything, part of him still can't believe you're choosing him back. around you, someone makes an extremely dramatic choking noise.

neither of you care. because for the first time in a very long time—

there are no departures waiting.

no airports.

no years apart.

no almosts.

just the warmth of the afternoon sun.

the distant noise of celebrations.

his hands finding yours.

And the beautiful, overwhelming certainty that after all those years of missing each other—

you've finally stopped running in opposite directions.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the thing about finally getting the thing you've wanted for years is that nobody tells you what happens afterwards. nobody writes songs about the twenty minutes after.

the awkward, beautiful, terrifying part where suddenly the dream is standing in front of you and you're supposed to figure out how to exist inside it.

because yes.

you kissed him.

in broad daylight.

in the Formula One paddock.

in front of his family.

his team.

probably several international broadcasters.

and now you are very aware of that fact.

very. aware.

"oh my god."

the words leave your mouth approximately twelve seconds after the kiss ends. oscar blinks. you blink.

"oh my god." his sisters absolutely lose it.

"HATTIE SHE'S MALFUNCTIONING."

"I WOULD TOO."

"THEY KISSED."

"WE KNOW THEY KISSED."

"NO BUT THEY KISSED."

oscar starts laughing.

actually laughing.

the deep, helpless kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

and immediately your stomach does something embarrassing.

because apparently after all these years, you're still ridiculously weak for that laugh.

"you okay, bug?"

the nickname.

again.

your face immediately heats up.

oscar's grin widens.

the traitor.

"you literally just won a Formula One race."

"yeah."

"and somehow this is still the most stressful thing happening to me."

that makes him laugh even harder.

nicole has now fully given up pretending to be normal.

she's openly taking pictures.

"mum."

"no."

"mum."

"I HAVE WAITED TEN YEARS."

his sisters immediately side with her.

your mother is somehow worse. and suddenly all of the women you love the most are discussing wedding-adjacent topics.

you and oscar flee immediately. absolutely immediately. neither of you says a word.

you just exchange one horrified look. then leave.

fast.

the paddock is still buzzing around you. people celebrating, team members carrying equipment, media rushing everywhere. but somehow you've found a quieter corridor tucked away behind one of the hospitality units.

the noise fades slightly.

for the first time all day, it's just the two of you.

again. oscar leans back against a wall, exhales slowly. you stand opposite him. trying and failing to look unaffected. neither of you speaks for a moment.

then—

"i can't believe you came."

his voice is quieter now.

the race winner.

the interviews.

the celebrations.

they've all fallen away again.

leaving only your oscar.

you look down briefly.

"i almost didn't."

"i know."

he looks at you carefully, like he's still learning what hurts. what doesn't. what remains.

"i'm really glad you did."

the sincerity in his voice nearly undoes you. because he isn't trying to be charming. or romantic. or clever. he's just telling the truth.

and somehow that's always been the most dangerous thing about him.

you look up.

meeting his eyes.

the setting sunlight spills through the corridor windows. catching the gold in his hair. the brown in his eyes. and for a second—

he looks exactly like the boy who used to sit beside you in the treehouse eating melted ice cream.

the realization hits both of you at once.

because suddenly you're laughing.

and so is he.

"what?"

"you remember that time you dropped your entire ice cream on yourself and cried?" oscar looks offended. "i was eight." "you cried for twenty minutes." "it was a good ice cream."

you laugh harder.

and suddenly—

something shifts.

not dramatic.

not huge.

just...

easy.

the way it used to be. not because the hurt is gone. it isn't. not completely. but because underneath all the complicated feelings, underneath the years apart and the heartbreak and the longing—

you still like each other.

you still know each other.

you still make each other laugh.

oscar notices it too.

you can tell.

because his expression softens.

not into yearning this time. not into heartbreak. something gentler.

hope.

"you know," he says quietly.

"what?"

a small smile appears.

"i've got tomorrow off."

your stomach immediately flips.

"oh?"

"yeah."

his hands disappear into his pockets.

Suddenly looking suspiciously nervous for a grand prix winner.

"i was wondering..."

a pause.

the oscar piastri who just conquered a formula one circuit looks significantly more intimidated by this conversation.

"...if maybe you'd go on a date with me."

you stare. he rubs the back of his neck.

and somehow—

somehow—

looks more nervous than he did on the starting grid.

"a date?"

"yeah."

a beat.

"like normal people."

that makes you laugh immediately.

"you think we're capable of being normal people?" oscar considers this. then shakes his head. "probably not."

"probably not."

"but we could try."

the smile that spreads across your face feels impossible to stop.

and when oscar sees it—

really sees it—

something bright appears in his eyes.

the same brightness from the podium.

the same brightness from childhood.

the brightness of somebody looking at the future and liking what they see.

for the first time in years.

for the first time maybe ever.

the two of you aren't saying goodbye.

you're making plans.

together.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : ahhhh here we go!! hope you enjoyed, and as always, any engagement is always appreciated and makes my day :) all my love!! let me know if you guys would like another part to this, adventures of osc and bug.

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field notes from a daydreamer.