Two wheels, one lap - OP81 x fem!biker!reader
Oscar’s running late to the paddock, and an unexpected biker swoops in to save him from the traffic…
Warnings: mild language, fluff ig that's it.
a/n: something for my boii osc, he moves me sm 🧡🧡🥺🥺 (his armss???? oml wanna bite those biceps)
support me here: ko-fi
next part, part 3
🔊listening to: Fast - Arizona Zervas
Oscar was very, very late.
He’d messaged the team group chat like “traffic is hell, I swear I’m two minutes away”… but he was absolutely not two minutes away. He was stranded behind a wall of cars outside the circuit, stressed out, and looking like a lost puppy.
"We aren't moving, are we?" Oscar asked, his voice calm despite the circumstances.
"Sorry, Oscar" the driver grimaced. "Someone parked a yacht delivery truck sideways three blocks up. We’re stuck."
Oscar leaned his head back against the headrest. Great.
Oscar glanced out the window as a sleek, matte-black sportbike filtered effortlessly between the lanes of stopped cars.
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You saw him while weaving through traffic on your bike, the heat rising off the asphalt, drivers yelling.
He looked miserable. Cute. But miserable.
You slowed down beside him, lifted your visor and tapped a gloved hand on his glass.
Oscar blinked, then rolled the window down. "Uh, hi?"
You looked at him, amused, strands of hair framing a face that was smirking slightly.
"You look like you need to be somewhere else," you said, your voice cutting through the ambient city noise. "And judging by that watch check, you are late."
Oscar offered a small, crooked smile. "Is it that obvious? I’m due at the paddock. I think I might actually age a few years before this car moves."
You laughed, kicking the kickstand down and reaching behind you to unbuckle a spare helmet from the cargo net on the tail of the bike. "Well, lucky for you, I’m headed that way. And I don’t wait for traffic."
You held the helmet out to him.
Oscar looked at the helmet, then at the stalled traffic, and finally back at you. He was usually the sensible one, the calm one. But he was also a racing driver, and sitting still was torture.
"You're serious?"
"Dead serious, Piastri. Unless you want to walk?"
Oscar opened the car door. "I’ll see you there," he told his stunned driver, stepping out into the heat.
He took the helmet from you. As he swung a leg over the back of the bike, the suspension dipped slightly under his weight.
"Wrap your arms around my waist" you instructed, your voice muffled slightly by your own helmet. "And hold on tight. I don't drive like a grandma."
"I drive F1 cars for a living," Oscar deadpanned, settling in behind you. "I think I’ll be okay."
"Famous last words," you teased.
You kicked the bike into gear. The engine roared to life and with a twist of the throttle, you were off.
The ride was a blur of motion. While the cars were stuck, you wove through the gaps with ease. Oscar’s grip around your waist tightened reflexively as you leaned deep into a corner, the asphalt rushing by inches from his foot.
It was a different kind of speed than he was used to. In the car, he was in a cockpit, protected.
Within six minutes, you were pulling up to the security gates of the paddock. You geared down, the bike coming to a smooth stop.
Oscar hopped off, his legs feeling a little like jelly—not from fear, but from the adrenaline. He pulled the helmet off, shaking his head to fix his flattened hair. He looked a bit windblown, his cheeks flushed.
You took your helmet off, shaking out your hair and flashing him a bright grin. "Beat the traffic, didn't we?"
"That was... efficient. And slightly terrifying. You ride well."
"High praise coming from you," you said, strapping the helmet back onto the bike.
"I'm serious," Oscar said, his dry wit returning. "Though I usually prefer four wheels. Less chance of falling over."
"Where's the fun in that?" You zipped up your jacket.
Oscar handed the helmet back to you, a genuine, wide smile breaking across his face just as Lando stepped out.
He froze mid-sip of his drink.
"…Oscar" Lando said slowly. "Why are you— on a motorcycle?"
"I—uh—traffic—she—helped—"
Lando looked at you. At the bike. At Oscar again. "Mate. You’re a menace, but this is a new level."
Mechanics nearby were staring too, whispering like it was the craziest thing they’d seen all week.
Oscar turned to you, cheeks pink. "Thank you. Seriously. You saved me."
You shrugged, casual. "Don't mention it, I couldn’t watch you panic in the middle of the road."
He smiled, shy.
"Can I—um—at least get your name?"
You smirked under the visor. "Not today."
And before he could ask why, you revved the engine and burned out, rear tire screaming as you shot out of the paddock.
Oscar stood there, wide-eyed and very much in awe.
"Pathetic" Lando said drink still in hand.
"Zip it"
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As you were leaving the paddock a pang of guilt hit you. Leaving him there felt… wrong.
You leaned back against your bike for a second, helmet off, and scanned the area. The team and mechanics were busy with their own chaos. You stepped over to a nearby security guard.
"Hey" you asked, trying to sound casual, "he… uh, is he okay? The driver who just got here?"
The guard glanced at you, confused. "Yeah, he’s fine. He’s heading to the briefing."
You nodded, a small smile, but still, you wanted to stick around. You couldn’t just vanish—not yet.
"Alright" you murmured to yourself, swinging back on the bike. "I’ll wait nearby…"
You slipped out of the paddock quietly, weaving toward the public parking lot where you knew you could see the track without being in anyone’s way. You leaned against your bike, helmet in hand, casually scrolling your phone—but your eyes kept darting to the entrance.
Minutes felt like hours. Then you saw him: Oscar, striding toward the parking area, glancing around like he had no idea you were there.
Your lips curved into a small, teasing smile. "There he is" you muttered under your breath.
As he spotted you, his stride faltered for a moment. His mouth opened, then closed, words failing him.
"Hi" he said finally, voice a little breathless. "Uh… thanks… again. I didn’t think I’d see you again."
"Thought wrong. You looked pathetic, so here I am." You smirked.
He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Right. Yeah… I was hoping… maybe… I could take you for a hot lap? If you’re up for it."
You tilted your head, playful. "You want to drive me around the track?"
"Yes." He swallowed, shyness creeping through the edges of his words. "Please. I… I want to thank you properly."
"Fine, pretty boy" you said, putting on your helmet again.
You smirked, crossing your arms casually. "I hope you’re as good as you think" you teased.
He swallowed, giving a small, shy laugh. "I… I’ll do my best. Will you… tell me your name now?" Oscar asked, voice a little hesitant.
You smiled, finally giving him your name, then revved the engine—this time with full intent to head to your next destination.
"I’ll DM you later" you called over your shoulder. "Meet me at my place tomorrow. It’s a date… don’t be late."
And just like that, you left him standing there, with the words stuck on his lips.
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The next morning, you heard the horn outside. You peeked through the blinds and almost laughed. Oscar. At your door.
"What an idiot" you chuckled under your breath.
You opened it, and he stood there, flowers in hand, looking slightly nervous, cheeks pink. You raised an eyebrow—he probably expected a tiny, normal apartment, not… well, your place.
"Morning" he said softly. "I, uh… brought these."
You blinked at the bouquet, completely caught off guard. "You… got me flowers?"
He nodded, scratching the back of his neck, shy but earnest. "First dates… always with flowers. My sister taught me that after some idiot didn’t give her any."
You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. "Well… that’s actually really sweet, Osc."
You stepped aside, letting him in.
"I hope you don’t mind me calling you that" you said, smelling the flowers as you placed them into a vase with water.
You were dressed for the occasion too, a little casual but neat, enough to show you cared.
"No, not really"
The Hot Lap
An hour later, you were strapped into the car, Oscar at the wheel, eyes glancing at you nervously.
"Okay… don’t go too fast" you warned, smirking slightly.
"My normal is fast." He looked at you as he pressed the throttle, a little grin tugging at his lips. And then… the car shot forward.
"Oscar!" you screamed, gripping the harness as the G-forces slammed into your chest. Your heart was pounding, adrenaline taking over.
The corners blurred, the track flew by, and your head moved with every turn, while Oscar drove calmly, as if it were just routine—and for him, it was.
Before you knew it, your hand had landed on his bicep—just instinctively, holding on.
When he finally slowed the car and pulled over, you were panting, cheeks flushed, hair messy from the wind.
"You okay?"
"That… that was incredible" you breathed, looking at him with wide eyes. "I loved it. The speed, the force… everything."
He chuckled, still flushed, clearly proud but slightly embarrassed at your reaction. "I’m glad you enjoyed it. Honestly, seeing you like that…" He shook his head, trying to keep a straight face. "Made it even better."
"So… would you like to go out again?" Oscar asked shyly, eyes hopeful.
Second Date — Dinner
By the evening, he took you to a nice, cozy restaurant—not overly fancy, but definitely somewhere worth a second date.
You had both change to more formal clothes, you in a blue dress and Oscar in a white shirt.
You had to admit, he was hot. Hot in a "i don't know I'm hot" way, which made him even hotter.
"So" he said, glancing at you across the table, "I take it the hot lap left an impression?"
You laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Just a little. Maybe a lot."
He smiled, shy but confident. "Good. Because I plan on making the rest of today just as memorable."
You leaned back, crossing your arms, teasing. "Oh? That’s a challenge, then."
He grinned, clearly accepting it. "Good. I like a challenge."
The waiter arrived, and soon plates of food were in front of you. You started talking, just normal getting-to-know-each-other stuff:
"So… do you have siblings? Apart from the sister you mentioned earlier?" you asked, twirling your fork.
"Yeah, three sisters. That one’s Mae, and then there’s Edie and Hattie" he said, grabbing his phone to show you a photo of the four of them as babies.
"Wow, you're adorable. Aren’t you cute? Your sisters look just like you" you cooed.
He smiled, cheeks pink. "They really do. What about you?"
"Older brother" you replied. "He’s the one who taught me how to ride motorcycles properly, he is my mentor."
You talked about where you grew up, your studies, random little childhood stories, and Oscar laughed at most of them, shy but genuinely amused that an Italian and an Aussie could have so much in common.
Then, halfway through your main course, a couple of kids at a nearby table suddenly leaned over, looking nervous but excited.
"Are you—can we take a picture?" one of them asked, pointing at you.
Oscar froze, confused. "Uh… me?"
You shook your head, smiling. "Hope you don't mind." you said with a small laugh, standing up to pose.
"You and your brother are the best!" a girl said excitedly. "I have posters of you in my room!"
The girl continued, totally unaware of the chaos she was causing. "When I grow up, I want to be the next girl in MotoGP—just like you!"
You smiled softly, touched, and ruffled her hair. "That’s so sweet. You can do it, I promise. Maybe we can race together one day" The kid run to her table as you sat down.
Oscar blinked. "Wait… you ride in MotoGP? And… I didn’t know?"
You shrugged, casually. "Well, I didn't tell you. I’m the only girl on the grid right now. Surprised?"
He looked at you, stunned, trying to piece it together. "I mean… the way you handle the bike! I should have known. But I didn’t. I—wow."
You laughed softly, taking a sip of your drink. "Well, now you know. I’m here today thanks to my mentor, Rossi."
His eyes went wide. "Rossi as in Valentino Rossi?"
"Duh!" you rolled your eyes at the question.
"No way! Lando would lose it if he knew. He practically worships Rossi."
You smirked, teasing. "Honestly, it’d suck to be Lando right now… Rossi might be his idol, but he's my brother and if you play your cards right...you’re the one I’m introducing him to."
He laughed, flustered, shaking his head.
You leaned back, playful. "So… would you like to come to a MotoGP race sometime? See the action up close?"
He didn’t even hesitate. "Yes. Absolutely. I’d love that."
"Then that's our third date"
next part
