#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"

just a quick Drabble

Spencer Reid x Older!Male!Biker reader

Dr. Spencer Reid had never been the type to fall for someone inordinate or someone at all really. He typically developed light crushes with people he knew he would never see again. Yet the light, fluttery feeling he gets in his stomach when he sees you makes him all giddy inside. He can’t help but blush and wants to hide when he sees you. A lovesick puppy is all he is. 

Spencer hid behind the files on his desk once you walked in. He discreetly peeked over the top to see you walking in with your biker helmet in one hand and a cup holder in the other. Spencer knew the routine by now. You’d come in with your helmet and coffee for you two to share. Every time you get his order right, and every time he starts thinking about your guy's future.

“Hey Lighting Bolt,” you rounded the desks to sit next to Spencer. It was always faint but you could see the way that his eyes light up when he sees you. A smile came onto your face as you distributed the coffee and sat on his desk. “Got a bunch of files there. You’ll finish them in-what? Two hours?”

“One in a half actually,” he meekly said as he sipped on his coffee. “Hotch said that he was going to give you some files. Said it’s supposed to keep you busy since we can’t go on the case.”

A groan escaped your lips. Spencer chuckled, knowing your dislike about not being on cases.

The team went on a case and left the two of you behind with Garcia. Spencer was injured, being shot in the leg and all, so he couldn’t go. The case was a kidnapping so they didn’t need the forensic guy there. Which meant that a good portion of the team was left behind and got to deal with the paperwork. Penelope was ecstatic with company but the both of you could only wish to go back with the team.

“Hey bolt,” Spencer hummed as he looked up at you. The happy puppy look always got to you. “I got you something.”

“Me?” Heat rose up in his cheeks with that boyish smile he always does. His heart started beating while his mind went through all the possibilities of what it might be. “You didn’t have to do that. Todays not special or anything.”

“I know. But I was out shopping and this reminded me of you.” 

A thick book sat in your hand. It was leather, Spencer basked in the Euphoric feeling. He quickly took it and opened it. Second hand but the original copy of a classic in German. He skimmed through the pages, quickly reading all of the annotations from the previous owner.

“Wow there Spence. I don’t want you to finish reading it here.” You lightly chuckle while running a hand through his hair. 

He let out an audibly “oh”. “Uh. Well. Thank you! I always wanted this one. But how did you find it? It’s sold out at every place I go to.”

“I have my ways,” you said with a finger over your lips and a wink towards him. “Hope you enjoy it!” You got up, took a sip from your coffee, and started heading out.

“You’re leaving me?” The slight tremble in his lips and the furrow of his eyebrows would have been enough for you to fall to your knees but you had to keep composure.

“I got to help Penelope with the case. I’ll be back once you’re done with the files.”

Spencer watched as you walked out. His heart rate rocketed with the memory of your smile. He beamed like a schoolboy as he looked at the book. Your future with him ran through his mind as he covered his face and let a couple of lovesick giggles. Acting like a teenager girl in the chick flicks but he still didn’t care.

“He’s just a friend, Spencer. Just-a really, really good friend. Yeah,” a pause. “Oh I'm in love with him.”

Hiya, pal! I'm glad you enjoy reading my work. Also, I hope this one will be as good 👀✨️ I made it be headcanons, I can change it anytime, if you don't like it tho :)

_________________________________________

Rebecca Lee(Revy)

X

Male Reader (Biker)

Type: neutral/fluff

Request: 👍🏻✨️

Warnings: ....It's Revy, everything is possible xD (but honestly nothing too hardcore)

First Impressions

Revy respects anyone who gives off that "don’t mess with me" energy, and the rumble of your motorcycle catches her attention immediately.

She teases you, calling you a "wannabe action figure" the first time she sees you roll into Roanapur. But she secretly thinks the bike is badass.

Shared Vices

You two often hit the bars together, knocking back drinks until one of you starts a fight (usually her, sometimes you).

Smoking side by side on a curb at 3 a.m. with the bike parked nearby becomes a quiet ritual after a job.

The Bike

Revy loves riding shotgun, arms loosely around you, hair whipping in the wind. She pretends she doesn’t care, but it’s one of the few times she feels free and at peace.

She’ll sometimes steal the keys just to gun it around town—dangerously fast, of course. If you complain, she laughs in your face.

Partners in Chaos

She calls you her "partner in crime" half-jokingly, but in firefights, you two watch each other’s backs like it’s second nature.

Your biker connections sometimes help Lagoon Company get intel or shady parts, which makes you valuable to the crew (and earns you Dutch’s respect)

Arguments & Banter

Fights between you two are loud, foul-mouthed, and usually end with either gun cleaning in silence or a reckless make-up session.

She loves to ride you about being “Mr. Cool Biker,” but gets jealous if other women hang off your arm when you’re out.

Soft Spots

Despite her sharp tongue, she likes leaning on you when she’s drunk, muttering things she’d never say sober.

Sometimes she’ll casually ask you to take her on a long night ride out of the city—just the two of you, no gun smoke, no blood.

The Ride-or-Die Bond

Revy respects loyalty above all, and the fact you’re always down for her brand of chaos makes her trust you more than most.

part 1, next part

A MotoGP biker, an F1 driver. What happens when two worlds collide?

Warnings: fluff, sexual tension?, no accuracy whatsoever w the actual motogp world. Lando is a little shit in this one

a/n: ty sm for the nice and sweet comments on PT1 <3<3, this finna be long sorrynotsorry. Faceclaim for some of this pics lilyzneimer.

I HAVE TO MAKE A PART 3 BC I CANT W MY LIFE, PART 3 W SMUT (and a suprise or 2) ISTG!!!! SORRY :( BUT I HAD TO THICKEN THE PLOT

This took me sm time helll, go give it some love <3

support me here: ko-fi

taglist 🥺: @heatherxpell, @nounougonerogue, @dakotapaigelove, @smartieracesformula1, @graciesgardens10

🔊 listening to: Fast - Arizona Zervas

After that night, Oscar couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every gesture, every smile while riding had stuck in his mind. So, in a completely “informative, not creepy” way, he started stalking her Instagram.

Oscar had some free time at the paddock, so he sank into one of the soft sofas, curiosity taking the best of him. He opened the app, typed her name, and clicked on her profile, eager to see more. He was so absorbed that he didn’t notice Lando strolling in—catching him there, completely focused on his phone, a small smile tugging at his lips as he scrolled through her posts.

“Oi, what are you doing, mate? Checking out someone’s Instagram again?” he teased, crossing his arms.

Oscar jumped slightly, trying to hide his phone behind his leg but to no avail.

Lando peered over Oscar’s shoulder and burst out laughing.

yourusername

liked by valentinorossi, monsterenergy and 1,933,011 others

yourusername Chasing the sunset 🏍️✨

@ user1 She’s out here making us rethink everything 😍🔥 @ yourbff U so hot mamaa 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 liked by yourusername ⤷ @ yourusername shuttt up lmao 😭🙄 ily @ RiderLifeOfficial Lean game strong. 😎👌 @ TrackAddicts 10/10 🏍️💨 @ MotoGirlSquad Teach us your ways pls 🙏 @ MonsterEnergy: Fuel the ride, chase the light 🏍️ liked by yourusername @ SpeedAddictsDaily my soul just left me 😩💛 @ user2 Does she have a license? lol ⤷ @ user3 What an idiot u r

“Wait a sec… is that the biker girl you’ve been stalking?” he asked, nudging him with a grin.

Oscar froze, his thumb hovering over the screen.

“Shut up… it’s not like that” he mumbled, cheeks heating up.

Oscar groaned, trying to hide the phone behind his leg.

“It’s just… research, okay? I want to see if she’s… interesting” he said, sounding way less convincing than he hoped.

“Interesting, huh?” Lando smirked, clearly enjoying the show. “Mate… she’s way more than interesting, she's hot as fuck. Just hit follow.”

Oscar hesitated. Should he? Following her would make her notice, and he didn’t want to rush things… but he also didn’t want to miss his chance.

Lando leaned back, still grinning, and shook his head.

“Mate… if you don’t hit follow soon, I swear I’ll do it first” he teased, nudging Oscar with his elbow.

Oscar’s eyes widened, his thumb freezing mid-air over the screen.

“W-what? No way…” he stammered, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Yep” Lando said, mock serious.

A day after that talk (two days after their dinner date), after hours of browsing bike photos and café posts, Oscar finally did it.

He hit “follow.”

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After the dinner date, you had told your best friend all about it—how he hadn’t messaged you afterward or even hit follow on Instagram.

“He’ll do it, don’t worry” your friend had said, rolling her eyes. “He’s just… shy. Men...give him time.”

You shrugged, trying not to overthink it, but secretly hoping she was right.

Two days later, just as you were scrolling through your phone, a little notification popped up.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little thrill.

oscarpiastri is following you

“Okay, Oscar, let's see if you can earn that third date” she murmured quietly.

yourusername DM's

@ oscarpiastri Hey… finally decided to hit follow @ yourusername Took you long enough 😉 @ oscarpiastri I know… I was doing ‘research’ 😅 @ yourusername Research, huh? Stalker... Hope it was thorough @ oscarpiastri Extremely. I can confirm: you ride like a legend. @ yourusername Osc, flattery will get you everywhere w me… maybe even a third date 😏 @ oscarpiastri Maybe that was the plan all along

yourusername story

liked by oscarpiastri @ oscarpiastri Careful, you might spill it on yourself lol

⤷ @ yourusername Wouldn't mind tbh

liked by oscarpiastri

@ yourusername Not stalking, I see. ⤷ @ oscarpiastri Guilty as charged

While Oscar is DMing you, Lando barges into the room:

“Oi, Piastri, still staring at her Insta? You’re gonna need a map to get back to reality.” “Shut up, Lando.” “No way, mate, admit it, you’re totally obsessed. Don’t tell me she’s just another follow, huh?” “She’s not ‘just another follow,’ aight?” “Sure, sure. Don’t chicken out—she might just end up liking me instead.” “Keep dreaming, Lando. She’s mine to annoy first.” “We’ll see about that, mate.”

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Oscar had barely made it back to his hotel when he dropped his backpack on the chair. He kicked off his shoes, and fell face-first onto the bed with a long sigh. The day had been chaos—media, meetings, simulator, Lando being Lando—but the only thing stuck in his head was you.

He rolled onto his back, phone in hand.

yourusername is now following you

Lando would have a field day if he knew Oscar was spiraling like this.

oscarpiastri DM's

@ yourusername So… Monster Energy gala tomorrow. You going? @ oscarpiastri Yeah, McLaren’s sending me w Lando. You? @ yourusername VR46 team, my bro can't make it. Looks like we’ll both be there. @ oscarpiastri Perfect. Maybe we can find a corner to actually talk. @ yourusername Good luck surviving the crowd first. @ oscarpiastri I can manage. If you’re there, I might even get lucky. @ yourusername We’ll see. Don’t get too cocky

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The Monster Energy gala was held at an industrial-style venue on the edge of Milan, a place with tall glass walls, neon-green lighting, and a stage big enough for a small concert. A mix of influencers, athletes, press, and brand ambassadors filled the space.

yourusername

liked by urbff and 500,728 more

@ yourusername I’m so not going to be on time. 😭

@ urbff And whose fault is that? liked by yourusername @ user55 Show us the final look queen ⤷ @ yourusername Nope, no dress reveal. Let the papz do their job. @ vr46tr3m You had ONE job. @ bikegirls_united At least you look incredible while running late. @ randomlymotorized Being late but still serving… iconic behavior. @ motogpfan_22 What event is this?? You look unreal. @ user44 Hearing rumors about a certain Monster Energy gala tonight… @ urbff2 Text me when you’re in the car. I KNOW you’re still in your room.

You arrived on time (shocking), stepping out of the black car the team sent for you. Cameras clicked, everyone trying to get the "it" pic that will be all over Instagram by the end of the night. The VR46 reps greeted you at the entrance, handing you a pass and giving you the usual rundown of where to stand, who to greet, when to smile.

You barely heard a word. Your mind was stuck on one thing: Oscar was coming.

You’d chosen a blue dress covered in delicate embroidered flowers. The kind of dress that made people do a double-take when they realized it was you.

Inside, bass vibrated through the floor, LED screens looping edits of races from both championships. You moved through the crowd easily, nodding to riders you knew. For once, no one linked you to Rossi.

Tonight, you weren’t the sister of. You were just you.

Meanwhile, Oscar arrived through a different entry, escorted by a McLaren PR rep trying desperately to keep him on schedule. He looked good—clean-cut suit, slightly tight bow tie, eyes scanning the room without meaning to. He tried acting like he wasn’t looking for you, but the PR rep wasn’t fooled.

And unfortunately for him, neither was Lando.

“You’re doing that searching thing again,” Lando muttered as they walked past a row of Monster-branded motorcycles. “It’s adorable. Tragic. But adorable.”

Oscar ignored him. Or tried to. But he spotted you before he could respond—standing in that hall, looking lost but talking to someone from your team.

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Inside, the gala hall was magnificent: round tables draped in deep blue tablecloths, sparkling glasses and a stage at one end for long, boring formal speeches.

You were guided to Table 5 by your team.

For a second Oscar froze. Then he started walking.

Lando groaned dramatically behind him. “Yeah, go on then. Don’t trip. Please. I’ll never let you live it down.”

Oscar didn’t even turn around.

You noticed him before he reached you, but you didn’t give anything away—just a small, quiet smile that tightened something warm in his chest. He stopped at your side, slightly breathless from a walk that shouldn’t have made him breathless at all.

“You made it” you said softly.

“Couldn’t miss it” he replied. “You clean up well,” he whispered as he slid into the seat beside you.

“So do you. So, table 5 I presume?”

“Yup. We're stuck together for the night” he joked.

“Thank god, I don't know any of these people, it's good to have a familiar face”

The rest of the table was filled with strangers — executives, sponsors, and athletes — but you barely noticed. Conversation was minimal, polite small talk, some fake smiles and silence when waiters started moving quietly between tables.

You both stood close, not touching, but close enough that it felt intentional.

“So… where’s Lando?” you asked quietly, leaning slightly toward him.

Oscar looked at you, surprised for a fraction of a second. “He’s at Table 4, with the rest of McLaren,” he answered evenly.

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to show how much it flustered you. You hadn’t asked because you actually cared where Lando was—it was just a way to keep him talking to you, to have him close. Still, the fact that the organizers had separated the teams into tables made you blink in disbelief.

Table 4 packed with everyone from McLaren, and here you were, sitting at Table 5 with only him.

Someone from McLaren approached then, introducing Oscar to a cluster of guests. Lando appeared a moment later, practically bouncing with the energy of someone who has Monster for breakfast.

And so there you were. Oscar with McLaren’s people, and Lando shamelessly inserting himself between you like he’d been waiting for this crossover his whole life.

The small talk was polite, nothing more—your name, what you ride, how long you’ve been with your team. No mention of Rossi. Oscar kept sneaking glances your way, and you noticed every single one. Lando noticed too, and his grin was unbearable.

But the real storm was happening online.

Photos from the event leaked within minutes. Two different universes, accidentally sharing the same frame.

Fans immediately lost their minds.

@ motorsportgossip

Spotted 👀 @ oscarpiastri with @ yourusername at this night’s Monster Energy gala. Table 5 seemed… calm? Both looked a little serious, but it’s clear they were sharing the same space. Could this be the start of a cross-world motorsport connection?

@ f1fanatic24 They’re both in motorsport… and they follow each other?? I’m screaming. @ motogpfreak They look so… friendly but like, more than friendly? @ 37482user The dress is everything fuckmeee @ paparazziwatch Just checked—yep, they follow each other. Definitely something going on here. @ user24 Oscar is always so happy...smh @ speedqueen88 Honestly, could just be friends… @ trackside_addict Bored faces lol @ motorsportinsider the F1 x MotoGP crossover couple. @ anonymousfan long facesss, they don't wanna b there @ bikegirls_united crumbs, we need moree

The speeches began — long, drawn-out, full of formalities and praise. You leaned slightly toward Oscar as the presenter spoke, and every once in a while your shoulders brushed. You shared quiet laughs at the same ridiculous lines, careful to keep your voices low under the gaze of the others.

When it was time for the awards, the host announced the Monster Energy Breakthrough Performance Award, highlighting outstanding consistency and skill.

“And this year’s winner is… Oscar Piastri.”

Your hands clapped automatically, a proud smile spreading across your face. He caught your gaze as he walked up to the stage, a silent Did you see that? that made your stomach flutter.

He accepted the award, gave a composed and short speech, thanking his team and sponsors. Every few seconds, his eyes drifted back toward you, as if making sure you were watching. You responded with subtle nods and small smiles, aware that cameras were sweeping across the room capturing every interaction.

When he returned to the table, he leaned toward you.

“So,” he whispered, “did I earn extra points?”

“Maybe,” you murmured back.

“Only maybe?”

“You’ll have to work for the rest,” you teased, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, pretending to focus on your plate.

The rest of the evening continued with formal speeches, applause, and boring introductions.

@ sportstabloid

Caught on camera: @ oscarpiastri getting some help with his award from @ yourusername at tonights Monster Energy gala.

@ fangirl_queen do I want to be her or him?? @ pastrii I’ll take both 😭😭 at the same time @ meme_motorsport I cannot function @ speedfanatic the REAL award is literally next to him @ tracksidequeen icon behavior @ motogpfreak polite cat piastriii @ bikegirls_united me updating my will: everything goes to @ yourusername @ wer9wer she's gorg and he's just ken @ paparazziwatch honestly this hallway pic is more romantic than any of the staged couple gala shots. send help @ unhingedfangirl I am not okay. send therapy. send wine @ speerrdfanatic literally can’t tell if friendship or romance but either way I’m screaming @ motogpfreak743 ok but why do they look like they’re plotting something together??”

A final toast echoed from the stage, and he leaned toward you.

Thank god it was over.

“Shall we get out of here?” he murmured, voice low, eyes glinting.

You smirked, brushing his shoulder. “Please. I think we’ve earned our exit.”

Hand in hand — well, not officially, but close enough for the photographers to wonder — you left the gala behind. Cameras followed for a moment, flashes popping.

Outside, the night air hit you, crisp. Laughter escaped from both of you as Oscar carefully held the award in one hand, while you gestured dramatically with the other.

“Call me tomorrow, Osc. I'll send you the details of my next race” you kissed his cheek softly, nearly running to the black Mercedes waiting for you.

“Is it a date!?” he shouted, outrage in his voice as he instinctively touched the spot where your lips had met.

“Of course, you idiot!” you shouted back, laughing, as you slid into the car and slammed the door softly behind you.

Seconds later, Lando appeared, leaning casually against the curb, grinning from ear to ear.

“Looks like Cinderella’s gone,” he teased, nodding toward the car, voice full of mockery.

Oscar groaned, still rubbing the spot on his lips.

part 1, part 2

Oscar can’t get you out of his head so he decides to deal with it the Aussie way...going down under.

Warnings: fluff, sexual tension, no accuracy whatsoever w the actual motogp world. Crash (everyone is ok, dw, nothing against marc), alcohol, SMUTTTTTTTTT (p in v, nipple play, masturbation, unprotected sex (b safe), fingering, australian kiss lmao iykyk)

a/n: lmao this finna be so freaky im screamingg, buckle up! Thank you sm for the nice comments. This took me way too long, I can finally post this, i really dont like writting smut if im not in the mood lmao <3

support me here: ko-fi

taglist 🥺: @heatherxpell, @nounougonerogue, @dakotapaigelove, @smartieracesformula1, @graciesgardens10, @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @ihaveitprinteddout @marywantsttobattle

🔊 listening to: Rock me - OneDirection

Oscar does call you the next day and so you send him the details of your next race, the hotel you're staying at and where to find you.

The day finally comes.

It’s the end of the season, sunny and loud and packed. The race is at Mugello. Rossi territory.

Your "home race".

Oscar arrives with a guest pass hanging from his neck, clearly feeling a bit out of place among the leather suits and helmets. You find him near the paddock entrance, already in your team gear, hair tied back, focused but smiling when you see him.

“Okay,” he says, looking around, “this is… a lot scarier than F1.”

You laugh. “You haven’t even seen us on track yet.”

He admits—slightly embarrassed—that he doesn’t really get MotoGP. He follows F1, cricket, that’s it. You explain what you can, casually.

He nods, serious. “And Rossi?”

You grin. “You’ll meet him later. Promise.”

Valentino Rossi is there, of course—just not racing, his wrist was still sore from his last crash. He leans against the garage wall, arms crossed, watching everything with a sharp look.

Your big brother. Your teammate. Your biggest critic.

He gives Oscar a quick once-over and a nod. He’ll meet him later—he wanted to know the boy who had you swooning and talking about him 24/7.

The race starts.

Oscar watches from the garage, heart in his throat in a way he’s never felt before. He’s always the one on track—now he finally understands what his family feels when he’s racing.

Cars feel… safer. The halo, the cockpit—but bikes… they feel wrong. Too exposed.

Then it happens.

Another rider comes in too hot. There’s a moment where he gets too close to you—and a leg sticks out. Contact. Your bike wobbles, then you’re gone, flying off into the gravel, your hands protecting your head.

Oscar doesn’t breathe.

Rossi moves instantly, already swearing in Italian and gesturing.

“Fottuto Márquez”

The garage goes silent except for the screens replaying it again and again. You slide, roll, stop. Helmet still on.

“You’re okay, calm down” Rossi mutters to the screen, not to anyone in particular.

Oscar isn’t convinced until he sees you stand.

“Is she okey?” he asks your brother shyly

“Don't worry kid, she is a tough cookie”

The medical check is quick. You’re bruised, sore, shaken—but fine. When you finally see Oscar again, he looks pale, like he’s the one who crashed.

“Is that normal?” he asks. “The leg thing?”

You sigh, sitting down heavily. “That was Márquez.”

He blinks. “Of course it was.”

“We’ve had beef forever” you say flatly. “And yeah. It happens. MotoGP is… savage.”

He shakes his head. “In F1 we complain about dirty air.”

Later, after everything settles, you finally introduce him properly to Rossi. Your brother grins, he likes the kid, and pulls Oscar into a photo like they’ve known each other for years. Oscar is trying very hard not to look like a fanboy.

Lando, unfortunately, exists. Oscar's phone buzzes nonstop.

lando: is that ROSSI lando: why are YOU with him lando: this is targeted harassment

Oscar just laughs and sends him another picture—now the three of you are smiling, you giving him the middle finger.

“Hey” you say, nudging him, after you've changed clothes “there’s a party after. You coming?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Depends. Who else is going?”

You shrug, grinning. “Like...every biker and their teams, mostly the younger crowd… Rossi’s sitting this one out.”

“He actually said that?” Oscar laughs.

“Yep” you tease. “Says it’s a ‘young people thing’ Guess that leaves you and me to survive the chaos.”

___________________________________________________________

The season-ending party is loud, messy, and filled with people who survived a year without breaking their necks.

You grab Oscar’s hand before he can get overwhelmed.

“Wow,” he mutters, eyes wide. “This is… a lot.”

“Yeah, welcome to the chaos,” you grin, guiding him past the crowd. You grab a couple of drinks from the bar—a strong, fruity cocktail for you, something lighter for him.

“To surviving end-of-season parties,” you toast, clinking glasses.

Oscar laughs, a little too loudly, and takes a sip. “I think I might need a few more of these to keep up.”

You lean in slightly, letting the music cover your voice. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

He smirks, and just for a second, the world shrinks down to the two of you: the flashing lights, the thump of the music, the warmth of your shoulder brushing his.

“Yeah… you definitely do,” he murmurs, and you catch the subtle tension in his voice as his eyes linger on your lips.

Oh, boy...It’s going to be a long night.

You drink more than usual. Oscar definitely drinks more than usual.

You end up too close. Always leaning in to hear each other.

“You scared me today,” he admits quietly brushing your hip.

“I wanted to impress you,” you confess, your voice low and a little slurred, leaning closer. “Great job, right?”

He smiles, soft, eyes darkening with something that makes your stomach flip. “You don’t need to.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, “you… you’re driving me crazy tonight.”

You laugh, a little breathless, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and tugging him closer, both of you wobbling slightly from the drinks. “Oh really? Just tonight? Cause I've been thinking about you since that first date.”

His smirk turns into a grin full of mischief. “Good. Because this…” he pauses, voice low “…this is really turning me on.”

You don’t answer, just pull him toward a leather sofa in a little reserved area where the music is still thumping faintly behind you.

He cups your cheek, thumb brushing softly. “God… you have no idea how much this is turning me on” he whispers. You can feel him pressing into you, your hand slipping under his shirt as you lean in.

And then your lips meet. First soft, testing, and then hot, urgent, hands tangled in his hair, pulling closer, bodies pressed together.

A beat passes, your foreheads resting together, breathing heavy.

"Should've done that months ago," he murmured, his voice rough, low, wrecked.

“Hotel?” you murmur, half-laughing, half-serious.

He grins against your lips. “Yeah. Definitely hotel.”

You both stumble out of the club, arms around each other for balance.

___________________________________________________________

You both stumbled to the hotel room door laughing and leaning on each other. Oscar was resting his head on your shoulder while you tried unsuccessfully to slide the card over the reader.

Once inside, you didn't even have time to close the door before he was pinning you against it, planting wet kisses on your neck.

His thumb traced the line of your jaw.

You answered by kissing him again, hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer, he groaned against your lips like a wild animal.

"Bed" Oscar whispered, his voice barely audible.

You nodded without hesitation, tugging his hand as you made your way to the bed. He followed, eyes locked on you, his grip tight around your wrist, thumb caressing your skin.

Once in bed, he climbed on top of you and, without warning, ripped off your top.

“Oscar! This is Versace!” you said, surprised.

“I'll buy another two for you, love.”

His hands flew to your breasts, massaging them both before sucking on one of your nipples.

He gave it a gentle bite before sucking on it and then moved on to the other one. You whimpered and grabbed his hair.

"Oscar, don't stop."

“Relax, baby this is just the warm-up.”

After a few seconds, he pulled away from you, sitting up on his knees on the bed. Oscar tried to take off his shirt and pants without much success, while your fingers played with your wet folds as you slid a finger in and out.

When Oscar saw the scene, he tried desperately to pull off his boxers, his member now completely hard and leaking precum.

From where you were standing, the image of Oscar completely naked and blushing made you bite your lip.

He saw where your fingers were headed and decided to switch things up. With a click of his tongue, he flicked your hand away and replaced your finger with two of his own. The pressure that you instantly felt made you moan, your hair now a mess as your hips tried to find a better angle, but Oscar held you down, one hand on your waist.

“Don't move, love.”

He captured your lips in a messy kiss and used his tongue to deepen it.

Your hands moved from his hair to his back, where you left marks that you knew would be visible the next day. His kisses moved down to your neck, sloppier, where he licked and sucked your skin, leaving hickies that you hoped your brother or the press wouldn't see.

Oscar continued down your chest until he reached your abdomen, and you laughed a little when he reached your belly button.

“Oscar, that tickles,” you said, lifting his head to find Oscar completely gone, staring at you as if you were a heavenly entity.

He continued descending, this time holding your gaze until he reached the inside of your thighs.

“Would you like to try the house specialty?” he said with a mischievous grin.

“And what might that be?” you raised an eyebrow.

“An aussie kiss.”

“Oh, Oscar, that’s terrible, so romantic” you said, laughing.

“So that's a no?” he said, making a move to leave.

“No fucking way, c'mere.”

Oscar laughed and began eating you up with no sign of slowing down.

“Oscar, I'm close,” you moaned as you clenched the sheets with your fists.

As soon as you said that, his mouth stopped, he stood up with your juices dripping from his chin.

He jerked his cock a couple of times, tip already covered in cum, before thrusting it all the way into your entrance, bottoming you out.

You held onto his shoulders for stability as he thrust harder.

You didn't know how you'd be riding the bike tomorrow.

This time Oscar did let you come, squeezing your walls until he let out a moan meaning he was close.

He came without warning, painting your walls with his hot liquid, panting as he rested his forehead against yours.

He stayed inside you for a moment before rolling to his side.

“Wow, you okey?” he sighed.

“Better than okey, that was wild Osc” you said hand going for his now sweaty strands of hair.

He let you play with his hair as he snuggled to your side.

“I love you” you held him close, his head resting on your chest.

No one had ever told you that.

Your gaze fell upon the boy who had captured your heart, now eyes closed.

“I love you too” you answered kissing his forehead even though he was already out, or so you thought.

OP81 X FEM!BIKER!READER PT3 TOMORROW

ITS UP, CLICK HERE

Things will get hot and heavy: SMALLEST SNEAK PEAK

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, “you… you’re driving me crazy tonight.”

You laugh, a little breathless, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and tugging him closer, both of you wobbling slightly from the drinks.

“Oh really? Just tonight? Cause I've been thinking about you since that first date.”