seen from United States
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no place lilke melbourne | oscar piastri x fem!reader
fc; madison beer
summary; where oscar and yn decide break up but they’re not very good at staying friends. part two of this
warnings; english is not my first language, kinda sad but cute, inspired by “kansas anymore” by role model <3
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Ok girl but Lando calling the baby "Oscy" and saying he'll start calling Oscar "Oscy" too.... we don't talk about that enough
I’m fully prepared for a 10-hour compilation of that tbh, because this man’s subtlety is like a marching band in a library. Like.
Get up, Lando Norris, get up 🗣🥁🥁
Thursday. Media day.
Oscar Piastri walks into the paddock looking completely normal—slightly unironed tee, shorts, the usual just rolled out of bed ten minutes ago energy. Nothing suspicious.
The curse hits mid-interview.
“So Oscar, how are you feeling heading into the weekend?”
He opens his mouth, already halfway through yeah, should be—
“…Oscar.”
The journalist blinks. He blinks back.
“Sorry, could you—”
“Oscar.”
Same tone. Same cadence. Polite. Completely useless.
It’s not even weird. It’s just his name, delivered like it’s a real answer, like this is fine, like he’s nailing it actually.
The PR handler does the tight little smile—the one people deploy when something is going wrong but we’re all collectively deciding it isn’t.
“Maybe we’ll circle back—”
“Oscar.”
Great. Cool. Nailed it.
—
Ten minutes later the entire paddock knows.
Lando Norris finds him by the coffee machine (which Oscar doesn’t even use, so he’s clearly just standing there like an NPC waiting to be interacted with).
“Mate, what?”
“Oscar.”
Lando squints at him.
“…yeah, I know your name. What’s wrong with you?”
“Oscar.”
“…no, but like—properly.”
Oscar gestures vaguely at his throat, then at his mouth, then does a little shrug like you tell me, genius.
“Oscar.”
Lando loses it immediately. full body laugh, bent over, hand on his shoulder.
“You’re fucked. You are so fucked.”
“Oscar,” Oscar says, flat, which somehow reads as deeply unimpressed.
Lando straightens up, wiping his eye, still wheezing.
“Okay. Okay. Can you—blink twice if you’re in there.”
Oscar stares at him.
Blinks once.
“That’s not—mate, that’s not reassuring—”
“Oscar.”
“RIGHT but like why.”
Oscar does the shrug again. The full-body one, the eloquent one, the one that communicates your guess is as good as mine and also I’m going to need you to not make this weird with devastating efficiency.
Lando stares at him for a long moment.
“So you’re just. Oscar-ing.”
“Oscar.”
“And you’re—what, fine? You’re fine with this?”
Oscar tilts his head. Thinks about it genuinely. Does a little so-so hand wobble.
Lando loses it again.
“BRO—” he’s back to bent over, fully gone, “—the wobble—”
“Oscar,” Oscar says, and somehow—somehow—it lands as yeah, it’s a bit funny, I’ll give you that, which is either a testament to four years of being perceived or something deeply cursed about the human brain’s capacity for pattern recognition.
Probably both.
“I’m telling everyone,” Lando says, still laughing.
“Oscar.”
“Yeah mate, they already know.“
ill be back in ten, okay?
Oscar Piastri x PCOS!reader
(low-key a part 2 to this, but can be read separately)
summary: oscar sneaks in to check on reader during a pcos flare-up.
warnings: pcos mention, chronic pain
A/N: (ive had this lined up since after ur last req and i’m posting it now) no one asked for this but this is my new favourite thing to write. so ENJOY :> i keep saying this but y’all if u’ve got requests for ANY driver, please, feel free to send them in. any scenario. i’ll try to make it possible. i love u, babies 🤙💋
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you’re curled up on the motorhome couch with a hot pack pressed against your stomach and oscar’s hoodie swallowed around your frame. the pain has mostly dulled into a low throb, and now you’re just… tired.
the paddock noise hums outside, muffled behind the tinted windows, and you assume oscar’s back at work. qualifying starts soon. he’s probably in briefing.
you don’t expect the soft creak of the door.
you glance up.
he peeks in with the most ridiculous look — wide eyes, slight smirk, finger to his lips like he’s sneaking into a forbidden zone.
you raise an eyebrow. “aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“i am,” he whispers dramatically, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. “i’m working on morale.”
you laugh quietly. “pretty sure your job is to drive the car, piastri.”
“i can multitask,” he says, crossing the room in four long steps. “and right now, the girl i love is wearing my hoodie and looking unfairly cute while recovering from a flare-up, so i had to intervene.”
he sits beside you, eyes shining, hands already reaching for yours.
“five minutes,” he says, holding up his hand. “then i’ll go back to being a professional athlete or whatever.”
you smile as he leans in, kisses you softly. it’s warm and slow, like he’s got nowhere to be — even though you both know he does.
you tug gently at the collar of his fireproof undershirt. “you taste like energy drink.”
“romantic,” he deadpans.
you giggle. “thanks for sneaking in.”
he kisses your cheek. “i’ll always sneak in for you.”
and when he finally stands to leave, he pauses in the doorway and turns back with a grin.
“might be back in ten. can’t promise anything.”
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Pov: How oscar piastri feels after waiting 2 races and one sprint just to lock in and get P2 in his first race of 2026 🥹🥹
I just saw this pic (left) of baby Osc on Pinterest and immediately made it my pfp. I’m so serious that pic has the exact vibe that brings me nostalgia to my own childhood birthdays. The other pic (right) was my pfp before this one!
kimi and oscah
