About Me:

ready for the spanish gp tomorrow!!

Oh hey Fellow Aussie!!

Just stumbled upon your blog. Your writing is so good and gives all the feels.

Hope you're enjoying FP3 💜💜

AHH OMG THANK YOU!

Both for the amazing comment and for REMINDING ME. I was so caught up writing this overprotective! Oscar I completely forgot, brb while I rewind

😭🥹🫶💕

Traitor Pt.2 (OP81)

Oscar Piastri x Femeal Webber!Reader

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Summary:

(go read part 1 tee hee) a bit of Oscar’s POV of previous events plus my boy saving the day!

After a shock contract with Aston Martin, y/n Webber attends one last McLaren gala before the start of her dream career. The recent PHD graduate in aerodynamics saying goodbye to her friends and family to study under Andrian Newey.” Oscar hadn’t spoken to you since the announcement, but when you need him most he always shows up.

A/N Ahhh okay it’s HERE! I hope y’all enjoy. Let me know what else you would like to see! Oscars my boy give me reasons to write about him I beg

Masterlist

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Twenty minutes.

It has been twenty minutes since he has seen you, lingering in the crowd. Your soft hair shining, your sweet laugh bouncing from the walls around him; ringing in his ears. Your sickly sweet perfume invading his senses, derailing any coherent thought in his head.

Something was wrong.

Oscar knew it, he could feel it. The way his skin pricked and his stomach dropped. It twisted and churned as a chill ran down his spine. He wiped his sweaty palms on his dress pants, eyes scanning the room.

He was composed on the outside, his face and body a perfect image of calm, but on the insides he was going wild. Adrenaline flooding his veins and panic slowly settling into his chest.

Maybe you ditched the event?

Oscar scoffed at himself, yeah right. You were set on torturing him; the image of his hands running slowly over the plunging beaded neckline of your dress (the one you more or may not have picked specially with Oscar in mind), his lips trailing lightly over your neck, down your skin-

Oscar shook his head, he needed to find you. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

As if the gods had taken mercy on him, his phone buzzed in his pocket, your name flashing across his screen. Accompanied by a picture of you, close up with a wide and cheesy smile, eyes sparkling through the phone. The man didn’t hesitate, quickly clicking accept and bringing the phone to his ear.

He answered the call with a huff, his voice coming out harsher than expected, frustration and anger slowly taking hold. He scanned the room again, praying to catch a glimpse of you. Praying to see you leaning against the wall, laughing at the power you hold over him while explaining how this was all a joke of some sick creation.

“Osc. I need your help, I’m scared.”

His blood runs cold at the sound of your voice, strung out as you sob over the phone. He moved quick, maneuvering his way through bodies and out of the crowded room.

“Okay sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. Where are you? What’s going on?” His words are rushed, his mind racing.

He runs his hand through his hair, dress shoes clicking against the marbled floor. He received a grunt from you in response, his breath quickening.

“Baby listen to me-“ he voice cracks as hot tears sting the corners of his eyes. Clutching his phone with two hands as he speaks, a desperate plea;

“I can help you, but I need you to tell me where you are.”

”I'm so tired Osc, jus’ wanna sleep.” Oscar could barely make out the words, your speech slurred as they fell from your lips.

He wanted to scream

He was panicking now, voice shaking as he tried again;

”Please sweet girl, where are you? Look around, tell me what you see.”

he listens close, short breaths escaping his nose as he hangs on your every word.

”S’ cold”

“Okay good- that’s really good baby.” He fights to keep his voice calm, desperate to find you. “What do you see, sweet girl, what’s the room like?l

“S’ bright an-“. Hiccup breaks your sentence, a quiet sniff emanating from the phone. The beat of silence seems to stretch for Oscar, a single second aging the man by years.

“smells funny.”

Cold, Bright and smells funny

Your words play in his mind. Running over and over as he tried to connect the dots. He needed to find you. Needed to make sure you were okay. He needed to hold you and kiss you, to tell you he loved you and apologise for acting like a total tool these last weeks.

He stops dead, mind catching up to him.

BATHROOM!!! It shouted at him, alarm bells ringing.

His feet moved quick, practically breaking into a sprint in his desperate attempt to get to you. A heavy foot planting firmly on the wooden door and shoving it open with a forced motion. The noise of the wood slamming the tiled walls falls upon deaf ears as Oscar finally catches a sight of you.

Body slumped against the wall, legs stretch in front of you. Your head lay heavy to the side, short breaths puffing from your lips. You look up at him, eyes stained red as a sloped grin makes its way onto your features. He can’t help his chest swelling and heart skipping at that crooked grin.

Your smile faded and eyes dropped as your head jerks, falling harsh to the side once more.

Oscar feels the anger wash over him, hitting him in white hot waves.

Who had done this to you? Whoever it was, he had decided, he was going to find them and make them pay.

Nobody gets to fuck with her and get away with it.

He runs towards you, knees cracking on the hard floor as he falls next to you. Arm winding around your waste as he pulls your limp body into his arms. A sob escaped him as he buried his face in your hair, a shaking hand rising to cup cheek.

He ran his eyes over you, methodically scanning for any visible injury, his other hand reaching blindly for his phone.

He couldn’t call Mark, not yet. Knowing the older man would burn the building down if he saw you like this. He would probably kick Oscars teeth in if the older man knew Oscar was the one you called. He shook his head, mind focused on one thing; getting you out of here. The rest he could figure out later.

The phone rang twice before Zac picked up, voice loud and cheery as he greeted the Aussie driver with exaggerated joy. Oscar spoke quick, voice ruff and dropping low as he barked orders at Zac from down the line.

“Call the hospital and tell them to stand by. Y/n is hurt. I'll get her there quicker than an ambulance. Call Mark and have him meet me there.” Oscar didn’t give the man any room for questions as he hung up the call.

His arms come behind your knees as he lifted you bridal style in the air, moving fast out the emergency exit towards his car. He places your body in his passenger seat, clipping your seatbelt before running to the driver's side. Tyres screeching as he reveres out of the parking lot. Knuckles white on the steering wheel as he speeds towards the hospital.

He doesn’t know how fast he was going, vision tunneling with one thought clouding his mind. Years of training and competing at high speeds allowing the man to weave in out out of traffic with ease, cars honking in the distance at his erratic behaviour. His gaze falls over to you, a hand coming off the wheel to grasp yours, limp and cold.

“Don’t worry-“ he whispered, more to himself than you. “I’ve got you now, it’s going to be okay.”

His car screeches into the emergency bay, stopping with a huff. A crew of nurses waiting for him as he arrived.

His car left running as he follows you inside, trying his best to answer the questions being thrown his way.

Oscars knees felt weak as he watched the hospital staff wheel you away, his mind racing a million miles and hour while his chest strained. His vision blurred with fresh tears as the sounds of the ER fade together. Everything is passing him in a blur, his whole world collapsing around him.

Without you, he was nothing.

A shell of a man standing alone in a crowded ER. Shoulders slumped as he gazed down at the sanitised floor, the smell attacking his senses. He didn’t register the hot tears streaming down his face, the lost and longing gaze in his eyes.

Oscar whimpered out a small sob as a hand was planted firmly on his broad shoulder, spinning him.

Oscar is met face to face with Mark, his composure falling as the older man pulls him into a tight hug. Oscar falls heavily on the man, legs giving out as silent cries wreck his body. He shakes violently in the man’s arms, no words spoken between the two.

After ushering Oscar towards the waiting room, Mark watched him closely. The Aussie leaned forward slightly, hands resting firmly in place gripping the arm rests. His jaw clenched as his knee bounced in a nervous pattern, stuttering and starting again as his eyes scanned the room. Jumping slightly at the sound of alarms, head snapping towards the doors.

He ran a stressed hand harshly over his scrunched face, coming to rest over his tired eyes. Palms pushing flat against his eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to warm away the pounding settling in behind them. He sighed heavily as he slumped in his seat, defeated.

“Oscar-“ Mark started, stopping quick as the younger man flinched slightly from his voice. Mark clearing his throat before continuing;

“Thank you, I don’t know what might have happened. If you weren’t-“ Mark is stopped by the sudden movement of Oscar’s arm, his hand raising in defeat.

“Don’t.” Oscar sniffled, wiping his nose on his (way too expensive) suit jacket.

“Please, just don't. I can’t. I-I won’t sit here and think about ‘what if’s’”

Mark blinked once. Then nodded. The two falling into an understanding silence.

Oscar is shaken awake, having passed out once the adrenaline had worn off. Mark crouched in front of him. The older man looked worn, his stained eyes framed with dark heavy bags. A small, warm smile crossing his features.

“She’s awake.”

Oscar sighed in relief, closing his eyes and allowing his body to relax just slightly. You were awake, that meant you were okay.

“She’s been asking for you.”

He was up quick, tripping over Mark as he followed the doctor back to your room. He stood in the door as you gazed up at him from your bed. A weak smile crossing your features. Oscar didn’t miss the way your heart monitor skipped as he walked in the room, nor did the nurses as they shuffled their way out. Eyeing Oscar and giggling quietly to themselves as they closed the door.

He didn’t notice, his gaze stuck firmly on you. His movement is slow and unsure, approaching you in the way one would a wounded animal. His eyes wide and breath steady, as if the smallest breeze would cause you to shatter.

You reach out for him, arm shaking and heavy. The drugs running through your system slowing your movements.

Oscars heart clenched as you spoke, voice small and unsure.

“You came.”

He chuckled slightly, kneeling beside your bed shaking his head in disbelief. Oscar takes your hand, his large hands cupping yours in his grasp. Moving to play soft and delicate kiss to your knuckles. He peers up at you, a small dropped out smile on your face as you run your other hand through his unruly hair, doing your best to tame the frizzles nest.

“Of course I did. And I’m staying right here by your side for as long as you will have me.”

You tuck your lip into your teeth as tears brim your eyes, heart swelling at the man in front of you. Down on his knees, his big doe eyes starting into yours. Emotions swarming in them as he inspects your reaction, trying desperately to read your emotions.

Your dad has explained it to you. Oscar finding you in the bathroom. Him breaking just about every road law to get you here in a “actuality quiet impressive” (his words no yours) amount of time. Him breaking down in your dads arms in the waiting room.

“Oh just shut up and kiss me already.” You say, cupping both hands on Oscar’s jaw as you pull him into a strained kiss.

Oscar rising to his feet to lean over you, his tall frame hovering over yours as he breaks the kiss. A small, boyish smile on his lips, his cheeks flaming red.

The moment interrupted by the sounds of a voice. Mark leaned casually against the door frame with his arms crossed, a glint in his eye.

“Better watch yourself Piastri. Just because you got to play hero tonight doesn’t mean you can go around kissing my daughter right in front of me now.”

Traitor (OP81)

Oscar Piastri x Female Webber! Reader

(reader is Mark Webber's daughter)

Part Two!

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Summary:

Basically it’s very quick Drabble I wrote to get it off my brain. Reader is Webbers daughter and moving to Aston Martin to study under Adrian Newey. Oscar and reader pining over each other and Oscar saving the day?

After a shock contract with Aston Martin, y/n Webber attends one last McLaren gala before the start of her dream career. The recent PHD graduate in aerodynamics saying goodbye to her friends and family to study under Andrian Newey.” Oscar hadn’t spoken to you since the announcement, but when you need him most he always shows up.

Warnings:

Mentions of drugs/reader getting spiked, mentions of smut

Masterlist

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The gala was extravagant, bold, and expensive.

You attended as a honoured guest of McLaren. Y/n Webber, Mark Webber's daughter. Recent graduate of her PhD in aerodynamics and soon to be mentee of Andrew Newey in a shock contract with Aston Martin for 2026.

Yeah, you had become talk of the paddock. Your dad was proud of course (if not just a little betrayed), but the opportunity to work alongside and learn from the man was too good of one to pass up, and everyone knew it.

Everyone, except Oscar Piastri.

Who; ever since the news dropped, had refused to acknowledge your very existence.

The cold shoulders and silent glares sent your way burning deep under your skin. Never admitting the man’s recent demeanor change was affecting you. You just shrugged it off in front of your dad, acting like all those years of friendship meant nothing.

Like the nights you spent studying while he slept in your lap- your finding running absentmindedly through his hair- meant nothing.

Like the way he pushed you against the counter of your parents kitchen as he kissed you, -deep and desperate, hips grinding as he trapped you between the wooden counter and his towering frame- meant nothing.

Like the stolen kisses and sweet words whispers closely in your ear, meant nothing.

You swallowed it down, pushing any invading thoughts of the brown haired Aussie driver deep down into the pit of your stomach, letting it twist and turn as nerves wrecked your body.

As you walk into the gala, sleek sparking gown of deep cherry red illuminating the room, the whole crowd seems to quiet in awe.

Oscar leans casually on the bar, a scoff escaping his pink lips as he downs another swallow of his awful martini. An eyes roll following the action as he places the glass rather haphazardly onto the bar, lip tucking between his teeth as he allows himself to gaze upon you once more. Your hair flowing effortlessly down your shoulder, the small chuckle escaping your dark lips swaying the dazzling stoned earring dangling from your ears.

Oscar couldn’t help his hand twitching, the burning sting in his fingers like glass, a desperate sign to run them through your soft hair. To curl them around the back of your neck and pull you close to his chest. He couldn’t help the tightening in his stomach and the chill that runs down his spine as he pictures his large hand tracing over your jaw. A pointed finger under your chin raising your gaze to his, eyes burning as he leans down to place a scorching kiss to the vanilla scented skin of your neck.

Oscar coughed as your striking eyes met his, a wicked smile forming on your lips. A shock ran through the man like lightning, awakening his every nerve. He swallowed harshly as he scrunched his face in a desperate attempt to control his cock straining against the lush material of his perfectly tailored dress pants. Smoothing over the material on his thighs as he tore his gaze from yours, eyes the room around him for the best possible exit strategy.

All night, it seemed wherever he looked, there you were.

Talking with Zac. Dancing rather embarrassingly with a very drunk Lando. Perched so gracefully up at the bar, legs crossed as you leaned forward slightly, breasts squeezing in your tight dress. Practically begging to be freed of their encapsulating confines, and worshipped by only those devoted enough to be blessed by the sight of them.

You see Oscar didn’t just see you as his manager's daughter, or as that weird friend he picked up in life. He didn’t even think of you as a traitor.

No. He saw you as a goddess.

A woman worth worshipping. A woman he would get on his knees for if you so beckoned. You had him wrapped around your finger, and you were complete and utterly clueless. The way you flutter your eyelashes at him could have the man burning down cities if that’s what you wished.

He saw your mind, your humour, your strengths and weaknesses. And he so desperately wanted to be the one to bring you pleasure, to be the one to hold you while you were in pain, to laugh with you and cry with you.

The way you occupy his brain, his every thought consumed by you. It was obsessive, borderline creepy the way you possess him. The tightness in his chest when he sees you with other men, the bruins hot rage that threatens to spill over when they so much as breathe in your direction.

It wasn’t healthy, so he had to let you go.

At least, he had to try. That’s what he told himself.

You smile at him from the bar, a shy wave of your hand as you order your drink. A small smile perched on your lips as you stepped towards him.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched Oscar basically run away from you. Your face burned red hot in shame as the man practically jumped over the bar to avoid your conversation. You walk away, shoulders slumped in defeat, a slight sniffle as you collect your pride and ego off the floor. The task wasn’t easy, as you get shoulder checked by a man on the dance floor, your drink spilling slightly on your dress as you swear.

Fuck Oscar Piastri.

You didn’t need him, didn’t need his sweet words of encouragement, or his soft shy chuckles at your lame jokes. You didn’t need his soft touches as he passed you in the McLaren garage. You didn’t need his soft lips or his strong arms, you didn’t.

So you drank, and danced, laughed with strangers as you let the party consume you.

That was until you made your way to the bathroom, you mind fading away from you as the loud music thumped in the distance, every beat of the rhythm reverberating in your bones. You stumble, mind numbing as the room shifts. A wave of nausea burns through your chest, acidic bile rising in your throat as you swallow down a choked sob. Tears staining your eyes as you desperately reach out, hands crumpling into the cold wall, your body soon following as your arms fold under the weight. Your hip hit the wall first with a loud thud, a purple bruise sure to blossom at the sight of the impact. Your shoulder is next, a burning pain rippling through you, a small cry escaping your dry and burning lips.

With a graceless thud you yield as gravity pulls you down, back sliding down the cold tiled wall.

You sit.

Alone.

Mind racing as time blurs, a chill taking hold of you. Skin pricking as a shiver runs down your spine.

Your head lulls to the side as you fight the heavy weight in your eyes, jerking you upright from your now slumped position.

You reach for your phone, calling the first person who floods your mind in any sense of danger.

He picked up on the first ring. Oscars voice gruff and firm as he spat out; “what do you want?”

You bottom lip quivers at his harsh tone, a small whimper leaving your lips as the tears welling in your eyes fall. Your words escaping in a hushed whisper

“Osc-“ the nickname hit the man hard, his chest tightening with worry at the sound of your strung out and frightened whisper. “-I need your help. I’m scared.”

You sob down the line as your hand clutches the phone, knuckles turning white as your body shakes, a hiccup bubbling from your chest.

It wasn’t just alcohol, you knew that for sure, whatever this feeling was, it wasn’t anything you had ever experienced. Your mind raced as your body began to numb, eyes rolling back slightly as you speak again

“I’m so tired Osc, jus wanna sle-“

Oscar interrupts you with a frantic yelp, questions firing through the phone at you as he desperately begins to search for you. Your half conscious mumbles leading him to the woman’s bathroom, his mind not registering the room as he hurried inside.

Oscar stopped dead in his tracks.

Your body lay slumped on the cold tile floor, phone discarded beside you, call still running. You looked like a doll left forgotten in the corner of a toy store, legs and arms astray and your head slumped unnaturally over.

He quickly skidded to his knees, sliding off the slick floors. His arm winding themselves around your frail frame and his hand comes up to cup your cheek.

Oscar hadn’t released he was shaking, hot breath escaping in puffs as his chest heaved. He scanned your face, calling your name in a desperate plea to wake you.

“Please baby-“ he croaked out in a desperate plea.

His voice echoed in your skull as your body gave in, dead weight pushing into Oscars arms as you allowed the darkness to take hold. No energy left in you to fight any longer.

You knew you were safe now, because Oscar was here.

Let me know if y’all want a part 2?? 👀👀

Hello again. Don't mind me popping in again!!!

But, i was just at work and I had someone come in wearing a McLaren hoodie. And you were the first person I thought of!!

And that Oscar fluff piece was EVERYTHING 🥹🥹

Much love

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Oml stop it, this is too kind 🥹😭🫶

Don’t mind me I’ll just be sobbing in the corner

Hiii, I've js read all ur f1 fics, and I have to say ur writing is incredible. I love it sm and ur so so talented😘😘

OMG STOP! This is no nice I’m gonna cry, thank you so much. 🥹🫶💕

If you have any ideas let me know or requests I would love to hear them!

Hey y’all, I’m Here to tell you I am almost finished Quart heat (OP81) Pt 2!

I’m sorry it’s taken a while, I’ve been going through it teehee (we laugh or we cry)

Part two should be out either Sunday or Monday!

Anyways… here is a little snake peak for you….

Pt. One - go read it

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Mark stood unwavering in front of the door, mimicking Oscar’s stance watching the young driver intently. His eyes daring Oscar’s to speak first, a smirk itching on Marks features at Oscar’s indifferent expression.

“Before you go out there, there are some things you should know first.”

Marks gaze met Oscar’s, the older man’s face hanging low. His shoulder weighed with the knowledge of a terrible truth. One he truly didn’t believe Oscar was ready to hear- At least not in his current state.

Marks movements were slow, hesitant as he extended out his arm. His hand clutching a stack of papers, jerstering for Oscar to take them.

Oscar’s hands shook as he gazed the papers, they looked identical to his racing contract with McLaren. The only difference being your name staring back at him.

He thrust the papers back towards Mark, the pile burning deep in his hands. His eyes gone wide as he stared accusingly at his manager;

This was your racing contact.

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This pic makes me feral;

Something about playing Oscar in pool and him losing on purpose to make you smile…

the only person who had a worse race than ferrari was oscar piastri – and when the leaderboard listed him as 'out', he reversed out of the grass and got back on track. he was not going to DNF at his home race without the stewards physically wrenching a front axle from his hands.

oscar piastri is a goddamn phoenix, and he will rise again and again and again. i love charles, and he is il predestinato - but oscar being a champion is not even predestined. it's literally inevitable.

Send me requests!

Okay so, I’m being dragged in a 4 day camping trip and I need entertainment. Send me some requests!

I’m really in love with Eddie Muson right now but I’m also bored and procrastinating uni deadlines. So if you have an idea I want to hear it!