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dannyriccsystem · 12 hours ago

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hi angel i loved your carlos soulmate fic !!! could you do a soulmate au with oscar please??

YOU’RE MINE, ALRIGHT?

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

SUMMARY: Oscar’s your soulmate, but he’s certain that you’re not his.

WORD COUNT: 3.1K

WARNINGS: Light angst w happy ending, soulmate au, Y/N usage, not proofread

FEATURING: Oscar Piastri x Model Soulmate!Reader

I’m sooo tired it’s bed time for me 🥱

Since as far back as mankind can recall, soulmates have been embedded into the universe’s coding. Ancient drawing on cave walls and old decoded passages tell fabled stories of two hearts that become one is a dazzling spectacle of shimmering lights. Your classic love story followed the mindless laws of life to a T, always beautifully describing the event that transpires upon the kiss of your beloved.

It was a simple set of details and instructions to guide you in meeting your other half. Everyone came into the world with a unique mark upon their skin— It could be anywhere from head to toe, and it didn’t even have to be in a spot that was typically visible. It was in a spot with a design specific to you, the only other person bearing such a unique feature would be the one you’re meant to be with forever.

Your mark was always appraised. Perhaps it wasn’t in the most convenient spot for the sake of the hunt, but it was downright gorgeous. Detailed angel wings were folded up on your back, covering the entire surface in the dark tattoo-like ink. Everyone who had the opportunity to perceive it found themselves in awe, jealous of such a beautiful design.

You, however, were not pleased. It was unfortunate to have your mark be located in a place most people kept hidden. You had to wonder if you had ever passed by your destined lover, unaware it was them because their shirt was concealing the truth from you. You truly tried everything from dating apps to display your tattoo to online forums dedicated to finding your soulmate, but if they were out there, they stayed silent.

It was tiring to constantly be putting in all the work. If the universe wanted you to be with this person so badly, why did they make it so difficult for you to find them in the first place? Were you doing something wrong? Maybe you were unintentionally avoiding all the sign, but then again… Maybe they simply weren’t obvious enough.

You want to be bold and make a statement. If they’re out there, you’re going to make one final move that calls out to them. With your career as a model, you had a face that was easily recognizable. However, you carried yourself with humility and a humble attitude. Just because you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing your own mug plastered on every screen and billboard doesn’t mean you have the right to act like it.

You requested a shoot for a fashion designer, particularly intrigued by the open-back dress she had just released for public view. She was delighted to have a high class model like yourself reach out and you two set up a date for the arrangement. It was the day of, and you were currently waiting in the spot you both agreed on.

When she got there, you explained your unique situation to her. She took the news quite well, and offered to feature one photo of your back in the shoot, and hopefully aid you in your final step of the search. After this, if things didn’t work out, you’d finally give in and let love come to you instead. Besides, you were a successful woman living off your own job. You didn’t need love— You were simply itching to find out.

The photos blew up, as they always do, but this time the vibes were different. You had every single fan admiring your mark, leaving sweet comments on how lucky you were to be born with such an elegant tattoo on your back. You’d reply and tell them you were certain theirs was just as lovely, and then either find yourself aww-ing or laughing depending on what it was.

It didn’t take long for expert sleuths on the internet to get to work, and it didn’t take long for the results, either. Being famous had its perks. Your fanbase had a wide range of interests, which meant when one internet user in particular laid eyes on your tattoo, they were instantly able to put two and two together.

To avoid making a scene in your comments, they decided to shoot you a private message at the risk of you never receiving it. It read simply, “Hey girl, about your soulmate mark… I think you might be looking for famous F1 driver, Oscar Piastri.” Attached to their message was an image of him post-race, his uniform pushed down to rest on his hips, while the top of his fireproof was just slightly lifted as he used it to wipe sweat from his face.

He had a strong back and a thin waist, but that’s all you could see about his physical appearance— Aside from the obvious. Just barely peeking out was the tips of a pair of wings, folded in a similar position as your own. You didn’t need a comparison, because you were certain; that was the mark you had been staring at all your life.

You thanked the person who brought it to your attention, playing it off as if they weren’t a match, despite the fact they very clearly were. With this newfound information and a slight skip in your heartbeat, you decided to look the guy up. He was indeed quite famous, and his life seemed very busy. He was always traveling for racing, posting pictures in different areas of the world, and lots of pictures featuring a pretty trophy. Impressive. Your soulmate was a winner.

This was it. You had found the person you spent twenty-three years looking for, and all you could muster up the courage for was a message, and a very straightforward one at that. “Hey” you’d begin, unsure if you would even manage to catch his attention. You just hoped that the blue check mark beside your name would push him into a response. “I’m your soulmate.” You attached an image of your back as proof.

Of course, he didn’t respond for about a day. You were sure it was because he wasn’t someone who was very active, but the more intelligent side of your brain told you that he simply was ignoring you, trying to think of a response to that. What about one even say? Not even you knew.

“Sorry mate, you’ve got the wrong guy. I already found mine.” That response was enough to shatter your heart. Right when you thought the search was over, you were met with the biggest rejection of all. You weren’t sure what hurt worse: Thinking someone was your soulmate and being wrong, or never knowing to begin with. You scrolled through his page once more, finding that he did indeed have a girlfriend— Probably his soulmate.

You had been so sure, too. It was hard to believe that your instincts led you in the wrong direction.

This certainly wasn’t the end, though. The comments finally started to flood in as more and more people connected the dots. You got thousands of messages informing you that this Oscar Piastri guy was the one for you, and you could almost guarantee he was getting the same thing. One person being wrong seemed like a viable explanation, but when more people started to tell you the same thing, you began to grow suspicious.

Maybe it wasn’t your business to ask about someone else’s relationship, but it was your business to ask your potential soulmate if they were lying to you. It was hard to face the man you had just recently embarrassed yourself in front of, but you managed. “I know you said I was wrong, but our marks are identical. I just want to know the truth.” You deserved the truth, right? Soulmates were meant to be honest with one another.

He responded immediately this time. It was like he had been there in the chat too, drafting up his own message. It was somewhat intimidating. “Fine.” You could hear his frustration, and it somewhat angered you. Was it so wrong for wanting to know if you had truly found your soulmate or not? “You’re not my soulmate. But I want to make it very clear I’m already in a happy relationship.”

“I understand.” That concluded your conversation. You hated that he dismissed you so easily, but you also understood. Lots of people dated others who weren’t their true love, because it wasn’t exactly an easy task to complete. But dating someone else when you had the right person standing right in front of you felt like a cruel joke.

If he wanted to be that way, you could too.

Being a model meant you ran on a strict schedule that other people planned out for you. Your agency was very busy, always looking for new opportunities to promote your brand and lifestyle to the public. The public opinion on you seemed to be high, considering you as one of the more relatable and influential celebrities out there.

Today was a big step in your career for multiple reasons. You were going to be featuring as a guest at a Formula One race. Not only was that a huge event, but for the first time in probably ever, you’d end up within a mile of Oscar Piastri, who was undeniably meant to be yours.

You wanted to flaunt yourself. You wore that same open-back dress you modeled ages ago now, feeling confident as you strode through the chaos of the paddock. Even without your soulmate mark on full display, the dress itself was very flattering. You received lots of compliments in under a minute, fueling your ego.

You recognized a lot of faces, mostly ones that went down a similar path as you. Lots of the other wives and girlfriends were models themselves— Models whom you looked up to, considering their years of experience and expert knowledge in the field. You greeted one of them, Rebecca Donaldson.

You recognized her boyfriend, Carlos. Beside him was a guy in a bright orange shirt with tan skin and curly hair. He seemed quite friendly, waiting to introduce himself as you chatted away with Rebecca. Finally realizing your impolite behavior, you stopped and held a hand out for both of the other men, who shook it individually.

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself. Y/N.” You nodded, and followed your example. The younger one was Lando Norris, a racer for Mclaren. Your soulmate’s teammate.

You dismissed yourself, continuing to walk through the ground of the paddock, running into various fans of your own, or even vice versa: people you were fans of. It had been a delight so far, but all good things must come to a mortal demise. Oscar had spotted you at the same time you spotted him, and he didn’t seem terribly happy.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned. It sounded hostile, but his face was more monotone than anything. “I already told you, I’m not interested.”

This somewhat angered you. Maybe it was a fair assumption to make, but that didn’t help to soften the blow in the slightest. You clenched your jaw, and then took a deep breath before responding, “I’m not here for you.” With that being said, you turned around and walked away; allowing him a good view of your own tattoo.

You didn’t continue to pursue him. He told you he wasn’t interested, and that was just fine with you. Of course, his incessant teammate reached out to you again and again, furthering questioning the undeniable connection between you and Oscar. He claimed to have noticed the tattoo the day you met him, and put two and two together, since he had seen it on his teammate’s back before.

He’d bother you about your plan, trying to create schemes to put you two together. Lando’s timing was impeccable, because you just naturally assumed that Oscar’s new liking sprees were a setup caused by the slightly older man. You’d get a string of notifications letting you know that Oscar had liked your most recent posts all together, implying the stalking of your account.

You figured it could have been anything. Maybe it was for PR, or maybe it was unintentional. What you didn’t expect was his sudden message. “We got off on the wrong foot. Do you want to meet for coffee some time?”

You wanted to have a ‘take that’ moment and brutally reject him, but you found yourself softening at the idea of finally getting the opportunity to meet the person who was quite literally destined to be your boyfriend. So, even though it took some thinking, you said yes.

Come the date of said day, you chose to dress casually this time. The dress at the race was a statement, but your goal here was to have a nice time, and not to intimidate him. So, you opted to wear a nice shirt with some jeans. Still nice, but not overly dressed. You met over coffee, sharing a small table in the corner of the cafe.

You took note of how his knees would accidentally brush against yours when he leaned back in his seat, and of how his feet would idly kick at yours under the table. It all felt so familiar as you slowly warmed up to each other, sharing funny stories and catching up just like old friends would do— Except you weren’t. This was the first time meeting, and it was going so well it almost hurt to part ways.

Being the gentleman he is, Oscar offered to take you home so you wouldn’t have to walk. It was late now, both of you spending hours until evening transformed into a pitch black night sky. You admired him as he drove, smiling softly to yourself. He looked so focused as his strong arms held the wheel, only looking away from the road to sneak glances at you, and then quickly look away thinking you didn’t notice.

You did.

He dropped you off, and you slowly dragged your feet to your front door. You didn’t want it to be over— He had been a delight, but he also had a girlfriend, and you couldn’t handle the pressure of being a home-wrecker. So, even though your mind screamed to run back and kiss him, you didn’t. You kept going until you reached the front door and were forced to stop.

“My girlfriend broke up with me.” He stated blatantly from behind you. That was all he said before you peered over your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

“Goodnight, Oscar.” You slyly slipped inside, locking it behind you.

“Goodnight,” He muttered after you were long gone.

You felt stupid the next day. It should have been clear to you that he was trying to tell you something; he was trying to tell you that he was available. That he really was your soulmate, and he was willing to accept that fact now, instead of continuously pushing you away. Now it was your turn to be the one pulling back.

You were bedridden the next day. Not from a physically sickness, but from the weird feeling in your gut that made you want to throw up anyway. You should have said something. Something other than ‘Goodnight, Oscar!’ You made a complete fool out of yourself.

He texted you around the afternoon, asking if you slept well. You told him yes, but unintentionally threw your excuse out there. “I’m feeling a little sick,” you’d throw it out unprompted. He didn’t respond, until you heard the knock upon your door. Of course, standing there with a back of items in his hand was Mr. Piastri himself.

He’d ask if he could come in, because he brought some things to help you feel better. You’d say yes, even though he’d now be sure to catch you in your lie. And he did. Oscar cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy as he read your temperature, which seemed perfectly fine.

“I’m not sick,” You finally explained, shame tinging your tone. He set everything down and folded his hands in his lap, patiently waiting for you to continue. “I was trying to avoid you, but I guess I did the opposite.” You laughed weakly, and then shook your head. Bad timing, I suppose.

“Why?” He asked, his voice soft. “You were the one who wanted to find me so bad.” Yeah, you expected that sort of response.

“I just… I feel so nervous now.” You huffed a gentle sigh, leaning your head back with shut eyes. “My feelings are always straightforward, but not when it comes to you. I feel… Complex.”

“Maybe you’re not ready yet,” He stated, and for some reason that hurt even more. It was like the twist of a knife that had already been repeatedly stabbed in you, again and again. “But…” Oscar slowly stood up, turning his back towards you. Without any warning, he lifted his sweatshirt up, unveiling his bare back. There was his tattoo, just as beautiful as yours. “We’re destined to work out just fine.”

It was a positive and refreshing outlook on the situation. You slowly stood, your fingertips reaching out to brush against his inked skin. You traced the lines softly. This was the first time you got to see your mark like this, because it was hard to look at your back. He completed your puzzle perfectly, making it all clear now.

You watched his back muscles twitch and flex as you dragged your nail across the outline of the wings, your face unreadable. You stared at his skin, littered with scars and moles, like it was the hardest math equation in the world. This was a problem for you to solve, but Oscar was the solution.

“You’re right.” You pulled your hand away and stepped back, letting him shimmy back into his cozy hoodie. Oscar pivoted to face you, matching your expression. “I want to love you. I want to give us a chance.”

“Then do it.” You couldn’t help the way your lips twitched into a smile, and considering the way he matched your grin, Oscar couldn’t either.

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses against your knuckles. You watched as your joined hands erupted in a warm light, sending a tingling sensation through your skin. You locked eyes with him, searching for some sort of guidance. Oscar squeezed your hand tighter.

Upon the first kiss, both bodies would erupt with a beautiful light, slowly beginning the fading process of their matching marks. It left you both giddy, filled with hope for this newfound love.

“We’re gonna work out,” You finally declared, actually able to believe it this time.

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