𝄞 OSCAR PIASTRI ゛readers social media shenanigans ゛
summary: what childhoodfriend!/influencer!reader posts on her socials (pre and during the timeline) illit’s yunah used as a face clam
a/n: sorry about this not being a proper blurb or fic oopsie… my requests are open btw… i’m open to f1, nhl (excluding us olympic men’s hockey players), and criminal minds mainly
hey!!! I just wanted to ask if you are continuing the op81 fic, not rushing or anything BUT IT LOOKS SO PROMISING
hai hai!! i’m assuming you’re talking about the prologue i posted!!
i will definitely be continuing that, no worries >< as soon as i get some free time from school ill be right back on my game! (i’m a high school hustler trust)
ps. the next parts will play in the future (as in after their initial ‘reunion’ sosososo)
summary: prologue to childhoodfriend!osc x childhoodfriend!/influencer!user
''why do you have to leave, oscar?’’ i asked, tears welling up in my eyes as oscar, the boy i’ve known for all my ten years of life, the boy whose karting races i used to attend, and still do — well, did, now. — watched his dad haul an absurdly big suitcase into the trunk of a van slightly smaller than a u-haul.
his brown eyes connect with mine, a sliver of pity shining in them. truth be told, i knew why he was leaving. oscar had always been big on karting, racing. anything that involved cars and being fast, the boy loved, and now he was going to be pursuing just that all the while leaving me and his family behind in melbourne.
i remember my hair being swept into my face by the early autumn wind, some strands clinging to my cheeks and sticking to the remnants of salty tears i hadn’t even noticed were falling. arms enclosing around my shoulders and a warm face pressing into the crook of my neck as he bent down.
“i’m sorry. i’ll be back, someday.” oscar sounded overly dramatic when he said that, as if he was ascending to the heavens or something when really, he was going to london to race. his tone still felt right at the time, more right than any other tone would’ve. i nodded, standing there like a rigid statue.
minutes later the vans door slammed closed, the motor started and the van drove away, oscar with it, now i definitely felt the tears streaming down my face, gaze following the van until it was out of view. my mom hugged me, i think. i can’t quite remember.
loud motors and flashing lights from cameras filled my ears and sight almost the moment i stepped onto the paddock. and there he was — okay not actually, but on a huge poster obscuring my view.
oscar piastri, number eighty one. only he wasn’t the pre-teen boy i once knew, he was grown up, and so was i, but it was clear who had made it further in life, to me at least. that much was clear even before i’d realised oscar had risen all the way up to formula one while i was pursuing university and vlogging on the side.
it wasn’t like i had a small following — i’d actually call it quite sizeable — but oscar definitely still beat me in terms of that. so when i was invited to the melbourne grand prix as a media guest for mclaren, i had initially been a little confused seeing as my content was not in the f1 niche at all — but nevertheless, i was here.
a sigh escaped my lips, the breeze whipping my hair around, similar to how it did on that day. then i remember what i’m actually here for, instagram. great, looks like i’ll be running around here the entire day taking pictures that everybody’s seen twenty times over anyways.
“y/n?” a voice cuts through my thoughts, when i turn around he’s there. him. as in oscar piastri, my osc, oscar from next door. “uh… uhm, no? i’m not—“ i start before realising he can definitely tell it’s me, he’s not stupid.
i nod, he’s now standing right in front of me now, a smile on his face. “i didn’t know you were a journalist now.” oh, great, he thinks i’m a journalist… scratch that, he probably thinks i’m a journalist that’s only here for him. great!
“lifestyle vlogger… blogger…? actually. one of those. mclaren invited me.” i can already hear his ‘oh.’ except it doesn’t actually happen. he doesn’t actually sound disappointed at me when he speaks.
his voice is actually friendly…? happy? okay, cool. “awh, wait that’s so cool! so… you’re in the media pen for this weekend then, right?” he asks, almost like he’s actually happy to see me. huh.
“yes, i’ll be in the media pen.”
and that’s how i… uh, reunited…? with oscar piastri.
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