#reserve driver oscar piastri | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amberjazmyn · 10 months ago

Text

mclaren's baby🫶

pairing : oscar piastri x platonic fem!driver reader, lando norris x platonic fem!driver reader

summary : aaliyah l.n is the youngest driver on the grid and is mclaren's third driver. the entire grid love and adore her, she is literally formula one's baby! but no one loves her more than her teammates, lando and oscar. let's just say she's mclaren's baby for the lack of a better term, more than she is formula one as a whole's baby!

warnings : none really lol

a/n : this was requested by anon and thank you so much for understanding my want for wanting to write more fluff over angst! also, i'm sorry anon but i decided to give the reader a name because it would bother and confuse me lol

being a formula one driver was exhausting for all that got into the sport and was excellent in it. and the three mclaren drivers, oscar piastri, lando norris and aaliyah l.n knew just how exhausting it could be. those three were known as formula one's sleepy heads because of how much and how well they slept and could sleep anywhere. and it was quite common for those three to be caught sleeping, whether it was together all three of them, or them in duos or separately, it was always something that would then be brought up during the next grand prix in the press conferences. even though it would never be caught by their specific cameras, it was always photographed or videoed by the other drivers on the grid who just found it hilarious and very sweet that they were sleeping next to one another.

however, this time, aaliyah and oscar did get caught and in a very compromising position that could have been described as 'suggestive' if it wasn't already known that both aaliyah and oscar were dating other people. and their partners had absolute confidence and no insecurities that what these three were doing was anything more than platonic. this time they were caught falling asleep together in their hospitality room at the monaco grand prix. oscar leaning against the wall with aaliyah sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around her protectively to keep her safe and secure as the girl tried her very best in fighting the sleep that oscar had very easily welcomed by that point. he was so exhausted that he could no longer fight it, his head resting back against the wall whilst the rest of his body was making sure aaliyah wouldn't fall off of his as he held her tightly. lando was miracuously still wide awake after the race and was just keeping a sweet watchful eye on his two fellow teammates just in case oscar loosens his grip or aaliyah slides right out, he's right there just in case something like that were to happen to catch his best friend.

"...and as we leave ferrari's hospitality and say goodbye to charles and carlos, our cameras enter into the mclaren's hospitality and...aw this is super sweet...we say hello to lando norris, oscar piastri and aaliyah l.n. lando is wide awake unlike his two teammates oscar and aaliyah. aaliyah, poor girl is trying her very best to fight off her exhaustion whilst oscar seems to have welcomed it, no longer able to fight it and has fallen asleep with his teammate on his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around her so she doesn't slip or fall off of him. it's also clear that lando, whilst scrolling through his phone, is keeping a very watchful eye on aaliyah and oscar just to make sure nothing bad happens and no injuries happen since oscar and aaliyah are on top of the bed and there is the potential of easily sliding off. do you have anything about this to comment on, mr coulthard?" one of the commentators, martin brundle, says with a sweet smile as david coulthard speaks up

"why yes i do mr brundle and speaking on our three mclaren drivers that we see here, it's very clear and known by so many of us that aaliyah is the youngest driver on the grid and she is very much loved by all of the drivers. however, this moment here that we are witnessing is one of the many moments where we're shown just how much more loved she is by her fellow teammates, oscar and lando. it's well known that they absolutely adore her more than the rest of the grid and would do anything for her which i always find the sweetest thing every single time we see those moments throughout the race week. however, now that we look back at the sleeping drivers, we can now see that aaliyah can no longer fight against her exhaustion and has now fallen asleep on oscar. lando, once again, is still wide awake and has now decided to begin to take photos of the sweet moment that all of us are witnessing live at this moment..." david's voice fades out as aaliyah falls into her deep sleep in the lap of her fellow mclaren teammate, oscar, his arms holding her tightly across her middle so she wouldn't slip

oscar and aaliyah managed to sleep for a good couple of hours before lando was put into the awful position of having to wake them up for the press conference after the race. when lando woke up his teammates, they were still perfectly still and comfortable in the same position they both fell asleep in. which, for so many of the mechanics were so shocked and impressed by. whenever oscar and aaliyah fell asleep with one another, it always sucked for lando to wake them up. because just like him, those two loved their sleep and hated to be disturbed when they were sleeping.

"...hey, osco, lela, i know this sucks but you two need to wake up!" lando's voice was what the two other drivers heard next as they both groaned

"thanks lando!" oscar groaned, his eyes opening immediately whilst aaliyah's did not which oscar and lando found to be the sweetest thing ever

it was very clear from the beginning just how exhausted she had been the entire race weekend. it was clear she hadn't been able to sleep properly since she was so nervous since this grand prix was the first one that her parents were going to be attending. and because of that, she had pushed herself too far and exerted herself a little to much which caused her and red bull driver sergio perez to crash. thankfully though, she did manage to recover and get into the points at fourth place, just missing the podium by a small margin. her parents though were just glad their daughter was able to recover from the crash and still do so well, not mad at all that she didn't make the podium which was a relief for everyone that watched the moment the young driver had with her parents. and now that she was finally able to relax, her body had finally decided that the only thing it could physically do now was just to sleep. and that was why she still hadn't woken up even after hearing lando.

and whilst this was very adorable, lando couldn't just let aaliyah stay asleep. especially when it was time for the 90 minute press conference after the podium ceremony. even though she just missed out on making it, she was still needed for some reason as were her other mclaren teammates.

"i'm sorry lela but you have to wake up!" lando sighs, his hand brushing through aaliyah's hair, hoping it would wake her up

and it did wake her up. even though it made her cower back into oscar's chest for a couple of seconds. which was another sweet moment caught on the f1 cameras, she did eventually lift her head back up and slipped herself out of oscar's grip so they could leave for the press conference.

"next time lando please warn me a little better and nicer?" aaliyah joked as she smiled at him, pushing him slightly as he giggled

"of course i will. i'm so sorry lela, it was so cruel of me to wake you up like that," lando giggles as does aaliyah as she shakes her head, oscar just rolls his eyes with a small smile as the three of them make their way to where they needed to be

they had finally made their way to the press conference and it was clear to the drivers that the interviews already know what they were going to ask. so, the drivers, oscar, lando and aaliyah just let them do their thing.

"...welcome to the driver's press conference and with us here we have our three drivers from mclaren, lando norris, oscar piastri and aaliyah l.n. before we get into our questions, just thought to remind everyone to be respectful, don't ask questions that could be percieved as offensive and also state your name, country and which publication you are representing, go ahead..." the moderator of the press conference announced as straight away, hands of the media personell flew up into the air

however, a media represenative of sky sports was the first one to ask a question and she went straight into it.

"...hello, i'm elena barker from sky sports and i just have a question for aaliyah and i was just wondering if out of your two male drivers, who is more comfortable to fall asleep on, oscar or lando?" and giggles ripped through the press conference room immediately as aaliyah giggled, giving looks to oscar and lando who also giggle

straighening herself up in her seat, aaliyah thinks for a moment before coming to her response, "for me it depends on the situation in regards to who's more comfortable out of the two of them. so, today for example, the award goes to oscar since he was the one that i fell asleep on. however, i have to say, majority of the time, it is lando that is more comfortable since oscar and i have only actually fallen asleep on each other a couple of other times. whereas me and lando have done it since we were kids growing up together back when we did karting. but yeah, today the winner, so to speak, is oscar," aaliyah smiled as elena smiled before lowering her microphone, satisfied by the girl's response to her question

more questions were asked and distrubuted between the three mclaren drivers before finally, the press conference came to its end. and the three drivers were glad, especially aaliyah since towards the end, the poor girl was really fighting so hard to stay awake. she was truly so exhausted that even that quick power nap she had with oscar wasn't enough to fully keep her awake for the press conference.

☘

thankfully though, by the time the three drivers returned back to their hotel, the three of them walking each other to their separate rooms so they could properly rest up, lando made a quick split decision. it was after he and aaliyah were about to say their final farewell to oscar, ready to shut his hotel room door when lando decided that he'd keep aaliyah company. and that was because he knew that whilst oscar was coming back to his girlfriend lily waiting for him in the hotel room, aaliyah did not have her boyfriend waiting for her.

"...lan, we're here! thanks for walking with me to my room," aaliyah smiled, turning to look back at lando who had a look on his face that she couldn't decipher

especially since he didn't make his move to leave to walk himself back to his room. he just stood there as aaliyah was a little confused before speaking up again.

"lan, don't you need to go back to your room?" aaliyah asked as lando shook his head

"nah, i've got everything i need with me in my bag..." he trailed off as aaliyah giggled softly with a look of confusion

"...what do you mean, lan? what's going on? if you don't think i'm safe, you know i am because you've just walked with me here..." aaliyah trailed off as lando giggled and shook his head

"...i was hoping we could have a sleepover like we used to do when we were kids," lando almost whispered as though he was ashamed as aaliyah's face softened, her smile sweet

"oh...lando...that's completely fine! of course we can! you know i can't say no to having a sleepover with you! why didn't you just say that at the beginning after leaving oscar's room?" aaliyah giggled, finally unlocking the room as they both walked in

lando shrugs his shoulders as aaliyah jumps onto her bed as a small 'oomf' was heard from her impact onto the bed, "i don't know, i thought you said we grew out of them, hence why we slowly stopped doing them..." lando whispered, his face getting warm with embarrassment as aaliyah shook her head

"...not at all lando! we just stopped doing them not because we grew out of them but because we just haven't had the chance to slow down and just take a break to have the opportunity to have a sleepover," aaliyah's voice wasn't teasing or condescending, it was soft and understanding as lando smiled shyly

aaliyah could see that lando was still apprehensive about his idea of having a sleepover after what felt like the longest race weekend ever. when in reality, it was the same length as every other race weekend, it just felt long because the days were as slow as a garden snail.

scooching over on her bed, aaliyah patted the spot next to her for lando to join her. and it only took less than a moment for lando to hesitate before he relented and took off his shoes that were now definitely blistering up his poor feet. joining aaliyah on the bed, it was silence between the two best friends before aaliyah spoke up again.

"driving alongside you and oscar this year, so far, has been incredible, lando. if i could do this forever, i would..." aaliyah sighed, turning her head so she was looking at lando as lando looked worried

"...what do you mean if i could do this forever i would? is there something you're not telling us?" lando freaked out as aaliyah shook her head, immediately settling lando's worry

"oh my gosh, no, lan! not now anyway, i plan to stay in mclaren, in formula one, with you and osc for as long as i possibly can! i just...i know this is something i'll have to eventually leave. i mean, me and [boyfriend] have been talking about the possibility of starting the journey of becoming parents..." aaliyah's voice started to fade out as lando's eyes began to droop

he had forgotten just how exhausted he was since joining aaliyah in her hotel room that for a moment, his exhaustion melted away. that was until it quickly returned and he slowly begun to slide down into the comfort of the hotel bed. and aaliyah couldn't get offended by lando starting to fall asleep to her telling him that she and her boyfriend were planning on starting their family. so, she decided to lift up the quilt and blanket of the bed so lando could attempt to slide himself into it before completely falling asleep. when she saw that lando was comfortable and fully asleep, his snores soft and quiet as his face and every single muscle in his body fully relaxed, she also felt her own exhaustion take over her body. and soon enough, aaliyah had also fallen asleep, her head resting on lando's chest, his heartbeat soothing her into her own deepest sleep.

it was really all too much for little lando norris and aaliyah l.n. the both of them just needing a little bit of sleep.

fin

holy jesus and macaroni! this one-shot has taken forever to finish and i am so terribly sorry to the anon that requested this and having to wait this long for it to finally be finished! i did not mean for it to take this long but, i just lost it and hit a massive writer's block. that has happened with so many of my drafts, as well as another request but i do promise they are coming! so, once again, thank you to the anon who requested this fluffy little thing because of my dilemma that is always writing sad and angsty one shots majority of the time! so, guys, please continue to request one shots, specifically fluffy or even spicier ones and i'll be happy to fulfil them! and hopefully they won't take as long as these ones have!!

©⠀amberjazmyn's original work. do not translate or steal any of my fics. 2024

#formula one #fluff #lando norris #oscar piastri #cuddly #tired lando is just so endearing to me for some reason like he looks so sweet #it's all too much for little lando norris #mclaren's baby #imagine the grid having a third driver that isn't the reserve and then a reserve driver for the three drivers?

46 notes · View notes

paddot-16 · 10 months ago

Text

fernando having a soft spot for lando and oscar, and lando and oscar only is something i could spend hours talking about

#fernando alonso #lando norris #oscar piastri #he raised them #those are his reserve drivers

30 notes · View notes

papayadays · 2 months ago

Text

communication — op81

⋆˚✿˖° engineer!oscar x driver!reader — you want your engineer to loosen up, he wants you to win ⋆˚✿˖° warning: mentions of hungary 2024 (curse mclaren for that) ⋆˚✿˖° wc: 8.6k+ | a/n: she's a long one! I've been working on this for months, and it's finally here :) first time writing a longer fic so lmk what you think of it <33 enjoy engineer oscar, after being plagued with this vision

OSCAR PIASTRI WAS WAY TOO UPTIGHT. and it had been this way since your first day at mclaren.

you had been giddy to meet everyone on your first day at the factory after signing for the 2023 season. lando was energetic and funny, andrea was focused, and zak was… well, zak. but then, you were introduced to oscar, your race engineer. he looked young, like fresh-out-of-uni young. it was definitely out of the norm, but your instincts trusted him. what could go wrong? he shook your hand and nodded, merely saying, “welcome to mclaren.” and then proceeded to not talk to you for the next two days.

it wouldn’t be a big deal if he wasn’t your race engineer. regardless, it truly wasn’t as serious as you were making it out to be, but it summed up oscar’s personality well: quiet, reserved, direct. cool, calm, and collected, one could even argue. coming from f2, your relationship with your race engineer was basically a friendship rather than a work partnership, so this was something you had to adjust to coming to mclaren.

you found yourself falling into a routine: arrive at the mtc at the start of the week, debrief with oscar, and then head to the race for the weekend before going back to the mtc. in all honesty, you hadn’t seen oscar laugh or even crack a smile in your time at mclaren. it was baffling to you how someone could be so serious every single waking moment.

and you had tried to get him to open up. god knows you’d tried. throughout race weekends, you had cracked jokes, retold stories, and brought up anything in hopes of getting him to open up beyond his stoic facade, but to no avail. it genuinely seemed like he was incapable of loosening up; at least, at work.

the one thing about oscar, though, was that he was dedicated to his work and good at it, too. your rookie year was better than you had expected, nabbing a podium in suzuka and even a sprint win in qatar. oscar was able to turn the data into helpful tips and points for improvement, which was something you really liked to hear as a driver. but it was so hard to talk to him simply because he was so reserved.

“osc,” you protested as you walked on the track. you had first used the nickname to try and crack a smile out of him, but it stuck despite not doing much. “have you tried the hungarian palinka yet?” maybe the mention of drinks could get a reaction out of him?

oscar sighed, as if you’d asked him something mundane, like the weather, rather than if he wanted to try a drink. “no, but i would think you should be focusing on maximizing the kerb here,” he responded wryly. occasionally, you’d be able to get a sarcastic response from him, like now, which you considered a win.

“me and some of the team are headed to the club after sunday, you should come,” you suggested, mentally taking a note of turn three. you weren’t sure why you did this; oscar never seemed to come out of his shell, yet you kept asking, despite knowing he wouldn’t—

“sure, but only if you end up on the top step,” your race engineer countered in an even tone. you gaped at him, eyes wide with surprise. there was no way he was serious, right?

“so you think it’s impossible i’ll win here, then?” you asked. “y’know, since you never come out with the team.”

“jesus christ, it’s not a character flaw that i like to stay in rather than go out to clubs,” oscar said defensively, eyes cast upwards, as if he was sending a prayer up to the heavens for dealing with you.

you held your hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say that!” you protested. “and you’re avoiding the question.” pointedly, you raised an eyebrow.

“what, i can’t set a wager now?” oscar rebutted, though it wasn’t serious from his tone. and was that a sliver of an amused smile you saw? you had hardly seen oscar grin, if ever. the only time he’d crack a smile is if zak said something out of pocket or lando made a joke that had the whole factory laughing. so, a win was a win in your book. “just thought you could use some friendly fire.”

your rolled your eyes, tapping at your tablet as you took note of the blind-on-entry in turn six. “yeah, sure, mate,” you chuckled. “if i win, you also have to do shots with me.”

“nope.” and there was the emotionless oscar again, though maybe he looked a bit less stern. “now focus, so you actually might have a good chance at winning.”

you could start to see why oscar had his doubts. in fp1, you’d done pretty well and got p7, with the pace feeling decent. however, fp2 was challenging, with you in p13 while lando topped the timesheets. hell, if you couldn’t even close in on your teammate, how were you supposed to reach the front?

“are you even listening?” oscar’s voice cut into your thoughts, words still calm, just like the rest of his demeanor.

“sorry, yeah,” you nodded. “just remembering about our deal and how it seems you made a secure bet.”

a noise rose from your engineer’s throat that sounded like either a groan of annoyance at your self-reproach or a tsk. knowing oscar, it was likely both. “listen, it’s not as bad as you think,” he stated. “the car has pace, and with the tweaks i’m going to suggest to the crew, it should be even better tomorrow. and plus, you just need to fine tune some things to get set for qualy.”

you blinked at him in surprise. usually, a “head up, we still have tomorrow” or a “don’t worry, you’ll get it next session” was all you would get from oscar. “thanks,” you nodded. “so what do i need to work on?”

fp3 was a nice boost of morale, with you and lando second and first in the timings, respectively. the car was starting to come alive, like your engineer had said, and the points you went over also contributed. now came qualifying, but you were hopeful. hopefully.

as you were sitting in the car before q3, you glanced at the data display in front of you, oscar’s voice in your ear. “okay, so cars with two new sets are verstappen, sainz, hamilton, and yourself.” it was quite a blessing that his voice was so soothing, so you could never get jumpscared. and in tense scenarios, his constant inpour of information didn’t get too annoying either.

“gotcha,” you replied, pulling out of the pits. you got onto the track, briefly taking note of the rain clouds that you knew were going to be rolling in soon.

after doing an out-lap, you set off on a flying lap, knowing that it could potentially come down to this should the rain start pouring. as you crossed the line, 1:15.763 showed up on the screen of your steering wheel, causing you to frown under your helmet. you were roughly four tenths off where you wanted to be, where you knew lando was lapping at.

“you can keep the pace up on the in-lap. if rain is imminent, we can get out quickly on the second set,” oscar informed you.

the universe had a funny sense of humor, because right as the radio message ended, drops of water started landing on your visor. “rain on my visor now,” you reported, peeling back into the pits.

once back in the garage, you hopped out of the car and took off your helmet, heading to oscar. “i just don’t get it,” you lamented, sitting up on the cabinets. “how am i still four tenths off?”

oscar didn’t say anything, simply folding his arms and giving you a pointed look. his almost withering look made you want to shrink a little, feeling embarrassed. “c’mon, you know you have it in you,” he remarked. “and rain only makes it easier for you. keep the corners precise and tidy, especially in turn three. we’re sending you back out.”

you nodded, putting on your helmet again and sitting back into the car. oscar leaned over the halo, adding quietly, “you got this” and patting your helmet.

peeling out of the pits again, you headed back on track in clean air. this time, you were determined to make the most of it, to try and seal the deal this time.

“doesn't look like the rain is going to be super-heavy on the radar. i think you can do a normal out-lap, you don't have to rush it,” oscar told you over the radio. you pressed confirm as you drove through the last few corners, weaving to warm up your tyres.

as you slowed down around the last few corners, you took a steadying breath under your helmet and started your flying lap. this time, you made sure to nail every apex and brake later like oscar had told you to. gritting your teeth, you had tunnel vision, drowning everything else out until you were rounding the last corner. passing the line, a new time flashed on the display: 1:15.249.

“where are we now?” you asked oscar, voice hopeful. holding your breath, you awaited the sound of the radio on the other side.

“looks like we’re in, uh, p2 now,” oscar reported, and maybe you were delirious, but you swore you heard a smile in his voice. “two hundredths off of lando. nice lap, well done.”

you smiled under your helmet, knowing that there was only two minutes left on the clock and that this could be your determining lap. no, scratch that, this was your last lap. there wasn’t enough time, so this would have to be enough for you.

after heading into the pits, you jumped out of the car and bumped fists with oscar, pushing up your visor. “is that it?”

oscar glanced at his screen, headphones around his neck. “yeah, it’s been red flagged,” he responded, turning to look at you, and to your surprise, there was a wide smile on his face. he patted your helmet, the smile still on his face. “mega job out there. told you that you could do it.”

“yeah, yeah, mate,” you grinned, pulling him in for a hug. “thank you, osc.” he seemed to freeze for a second before wrapping his arms around you and patting your back, the relief evident as his shoulders sagged.

“all you,” he chuckled, making you do a double-take. was this the same oscar? “now, go do your interviews so we can debrief after.” ah, there he was again. you gave him a playful salute and headed off with your press officer.

when you came back to debrief, changed into a t-shirt and cargo pants, you sat down across from oscar, who was dialed in, eyes honed in on the telemetry while you could practically see the gears spinning in his mind. “okay, so here’s the strategies we’re considering,” he said with no prelude, jabbing at his computer screen with the back of his emotional support pen.

“gotcha,” you nodded. “tyre preservation, i know.” oscar continued on, showing you the data on his computer.

“wait, so what’s the deal with me and lando tomorrow?” you interjected. “is- are there going to be any team orders?”

oscar’s mouth pinched into a tight line as he met your eyes. “i think the team is a little, uh, ambiguous about it, but i’ll make sure they’ll give you a fair chance.” so, they wanted to prioritize lando, is what you heard. of course. at least oscar was in your corner, but would he really fight with the team just to make sure you didn’t get team orders?

“thank you,” you said quietly, mind mulling over what could possibly happen tomorrow. lando was obviously doing well in the driver’s championship, so it was within reason for the team to swap positions. even if oscar said he would get you fair competition, who was to say the team couldn’t override it? given that you couldn’t even outqualify your teammate, it would be clear to see who would be given priority, as much as it stung.

“hey, are you with me?” oscar asked, waving a hand in front of your face. his eyes scanned your face, eyes holding the type of gaze that figured you out and saw right through you.

you blinked, quickly refocusing. “yeah, sorry.” you needed to get a grip, to get your head back in the game.

oscar frowned, closing his computer. the quick action surprised you—oscar wasn’t one to abandon his work haphazardly. “you’re getting in your head,” he said, matter-of-factly, almost gently if you didn’t know him well enough. “i promise, you’re just as likely to win tomorrow as lando.”

“right,” you mumbled, fiddling with a zipper on your pocket. because mclaren definitely had no bias, and even so, was there any fighting chance of a win if you were two tenths off in qualifying?

“hey, look at me.” you glanced up, seeing oscar’s face stern. “i don’t know why you’re doubting yourself, you’re a mega driver. you won a sprint race in your rookie season, and you’ve bagged multiple podiums already. you’ve got what it takes.”

“it’s not that,” you sighed, fingers folding and unfolding the corner of your debrief paper as if the paper would give you answers. “it’s just- i want to win, but there’s so many things out of my control that could go wrong, and that’s… pretty intimidating.”

if possible, oscar’s eyes softened as he glanced at you, setting the pen he had been clicking nonstop for the past few minutes down. “i’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t feel intimidated, but you also shouldn’t feel like you don’t have control,” your race engineer said, the gentlest you’d seen him. “you and i know that we can’t let crucial moments come to us, you have to make them. and i know you can, so if you’re ready, let’s debrief so you can win tomorrow.” you glanced up at him, taking a moment to mull it over. oscar was right, you of course knew that, but seeing oscar this encouraging struck you differently.

“i thought you weren’t supposed to help the other side in bets?” you joked, an attempt to lighten the mood. in return, oscar rolled his eyes, snorting.

“well this is kind of my job.”

it was race day, the umbrella over your car shielding you from the hungarian sun and prying eyes.

“you, uh, good?” oscar asked, leaning over the halo to look at you, rays of sunlight peaking over his head like a crown. today, he was extra diligent in checking in with you, making sure you were in the right mindset. and you appreciated it, having someone care amidst the draining cycle of interviews, pr activities, debriefs, and training. it was steadying; grounding, almost.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you replied under your helmet, visor up. “everything looking good?”

oscar blinked at you, as if he were confused why you were asking that. “since you last asked before you got into the car, yes, nothing broke,” he snorted. maybe it was just you, but oscar seemed more sarcastic this weekend. you wondered what got him in the mood—maybe lando forcing him to stop eating salmon during debriefs. “anyways, formation lap is about to start, but just remember to keep your cool.”

“i always do,” you grinned, knowing it was a complete lie. oscar, of course, knew it too.

“right, silly me,” he deadpanned, patting your helmet once before leaving with the rest of your pit crew.

now it was just you and nineteen other drivers, itching to start.

the formation lap went by quickly, your mind dangerously wandering down the road of all the possible outcomes. the scenarios blurred by, your grip on the steering wheel tightening. the radio crackled, and “all good?” came from the other side.

“‘m fine,” you said, pulling yourself out of that headspace and taking a steadying breath. focus. speed, i am speed, your brain continued, making you smile.

it was just you and lando, awaiting the start on the front row. you could feel the anticipation, the collective breath held by fans. the lights went on, your foot anxiously waiting, and then it was lights out. away you went.

your foot went down on the pedal, and you knew you’d gotten the better start. you got the inside line down the straight, managing to pick your way past lando in the corner to snag the lead of the race, braking late enough to make the move stick.

holy shit.

you were in first after turn one. in your periphery, you saw the red bull of max verstappen run wide while moving ahead of lando.

“nice one,” oscar said after the first lap, smile evident in his voice. “alright, good job, drs enabled soon.”

you replied with a “copy,” but were more focused on increasing the gap. you did not want max verstappen closing in on you with drs.

glancing in your mirrors as you pulled further ahead, you saw max giving lando the place back, more assured that mclaren was going to have it’s 1-2.

as the laps went by, you were almost relaxed, like it was just a nice summer drive. if only. you were watching after your tyres, oscar occasionally giving you bits of advice.

“cars behind will soon build pit windows to stroll in p7. this would be a good opportunity to pull away if you can,” oscar suggested.

“copy, how far of a gap?” you asked, making your turns more clinical, less lax from how you were previously driving.

“i’ll let you know,” he assured you. “for now, we just need you to pull ahead.”

“gotcha.” and with that, you were flying. spiritually. metaphorically. whatever.

after a while, it was cruising again before oscar asked, “are you happy with the front wing?”

“er, yeah, ‘s good,” you responded, anticipating a pit stop based on his question. “maybe down half if you’re getting nitpicky.”

as predicted, oscar told you to box and you did, peeling into the pits. you got on some new hards in a tidy stop and were sent back on your way. now you were in the top five, managing your tyres while praying to the motorsport gods that the strategy wasn’t fucked.

luckily, you watched as the cars in front of you pitted as the laps went on, confidence slowly seeping back into your veins. as you watched the ferrari ahead dive into the pits, you took in a breath, knowing you were back in the lead.

“leclerc has pitted, so you now have clear air. tyre management looks similar across cars. you're doing a really good job,” oscar reported. you blinked under your helmet. what was in the hungarian air because oscar was clearly less stoic this weekend?

“thanks, osc,” you replied, comfortable enough with the race to joke around. “you sure i’m not giving you grey hairs?”

you heard a snort before oscar chuckled, “well, can’t say that you aren’t, but don’t let me hold you back.” under your helmet, you let out a laugh, though you hadn’t pressed the radio button.

the laps went on when you saw lando peel into the pits. “what’s happening? do i need to box?” you asked. oscar hadn’t said anything about the next round of pitting, which had made you assume everything was fine.

“lando boxed to cover hamilton. we need best pace now. don't worry about lando,” oscar replied, yet even as he said it, his voice was tight. you called bullshit.

“fuck, don’t tell me-” that lando’s undercutting me. the words were on your tongue, though you didn’t dare to voice them, mindful that radios could be broadcast.

“yes,” oscar said tersely, the way he tended to talk when he was figuring out an issue. closing your radio, you swore, bewildered as to why the fuck they were undercutting lando.

“oscar, what’s the gap to hamilton?” you questioned, voice tight. the last time he had updated you, it was thirty seconds, which was more than enough.

“over half a minute.” so what the fuck were mclaren playing at?

“any reason why we didn’t pit?” you were close to snapping, thinly veiling the accusation as an innocent question.

“i’ll check,” oscar sighed, sounding as defeated as you. “box this lap.”

“the fuck?” you scoffed, unable to restrain your temper. “at least give me a chance to undo the undercut.”

“i’m sorry, but we need to box,” oscar told you, a wince evident in his voice. you wanted to scream in frustration, but did as instructed and went into the pits to put on some mediums.

as you headed out onto the track, lo and behold, you were behind lando. “fucking hell,” you cursed, jabbing the radio button with your thumb so they could hear you. “how far am i from hamilton?”

“er, three point seven seconds.” what the actual fuck. “verstappen pitting now.”

you gritted your teeth, any thoughts of tyre preservation thrown out the window. this was not going to be the way you lost a race win. mind focused, you set off on lapping faster, braking later, and controlling your steering.

“okay, so lando’s going to swap positions when we get up, but for now, we don’t want him losing a lot of race time,” oscar informed you.

“mate, he’s trying to set flying laps, if you hadn’t noticed,” you retorted. “how do you want me to catch up without destroying my tyres? i dunno how he’s going to nurse his tyres later.”

“will is, uh, talking to him.” oscar tried to assure you, but with no sign of slowing in lando’s pace, it did nothing.

as the laps dwindled to the last nine, you grew increasingly irritated. “he’s not swapping, is he?” you questioned.

“will’s…on it,” oscar winced. “maximum focus, we need best pace.” you almost rolled your eyes at that; you were looking after your tyres.

“so no tyre management?” you confirmed.

“nope, last few laps,” he stated.

and that was all you needed to hear. you could feel the gap shrinking, lando’s car growing bigger and bigger in your view. the fuck was everyone thinking, acting as if you hadn’t taken the lead of the race into turn one and led it the whole time. fuck them.

soon, you were on the rear wing of lando when oscar let you know, “three laps to go, lando’s letting you through.” finally. though, in full honesty, you weren’t mad at lando. sure, you felt that it was your win, but mclaren were the ones who fucked up the strategy when they had the time to do it the other way. no, lando saw an opportunity and took it; to be honest, you couldn’t say you wouldn’t do the same if you were him.

and you obviously weren’t blaming oscar. you trusted him to fight for you, as evident from his radio messages. there was no doubt in your mind– he was just the messenger.

you were back into p1, though it didn’t send the same shivers down your spine as it had back on lap one. oscar occasionally updated you on the last two laps, but it was all background noise.

between your frustration and confusion, elation rose in your chest. elation for your first race win. you were actually going to win this thing.

as the last lap wound down, your heart drummed wildly as you rounded the last corner, a smile working its way onto your face. you crossed the chequered flag, letting out a shocked breath.

holy shit.

you just won your first f1 race. you did it. you won. but that adrenaline very quickly faded as you recounted the headache of a race that led to it.

“p1, p1,” oscar reported, and you swore you could hear pride in his voice, though you couldn’t say that you felt like celebrating.

“yeah, thanks to everyone here and back at the factory. nice one-two for the team, despite the hurdles,” you responded, unable to resist adding that little jab in there. “first win in the books, thank you.”

in parc ferme, you took your time getting out, not to rein in your excitement but rather your anger; this was not like lando in miami. you obviously couldn’t pull a danny ric suzuka 2018 despite wanting to. per tradition, you got up on your car and pumped a fist before hopping off and walking over to the team. yeah, this definitely was not like miami.

passing by team members, you stopped when you reached oscar. your visor was up so you could see the apology in his gaze as you let him see your frustration. “thanks, osc,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder briefly, letting him pull you in for a hug, and patting him on the back. in exchange, he let you process, recharge your batteries, and reset your headspace for a moment

“hey, mega job out there,” he said quietly beside your helmet. you could hear the apology in his voice, the ‘i’m sorry you had to go through that,’ and you squeezed his shoulder for a split second.

nodding, you went back and took off your helmet while making yourself look presentable, watching as lewis was being interviewed by nico rosberg. ironic, especially considering today’s events.

lando went up, and you internally winced as you heard the disappointment in his voice. you and lando got along well, so you felt for him, your heart feeling a little cagey.

finally, you were up and handed a mic, doing your best to smile at nico. “congrats,” the german said. “first formula one win on a sunday. how awesome does that feel?”

and with that, you were truly grinning. “very, very awesome,” you beamed. “this is what we all dream of as kids, and to be able to get a win is really special. obviously the end was, uh, a bit complicated, but i managed to get a good start and from there we were able to get the win. of course, i have to give props to my team for giving me a car to drive, lando for helping me grow as a driver, and oscar for being the voice of reason.”

“and how impressed are you with the car that mclaren has given you at this moment?” nico continued. “i mean, it just looks phenomenal out there.”

“pretty damn impressed,” you chuckled, the sound loaded with emotion. “for starter, if you looked at us last year in bahrain to now, with a one-two here in hungary, it’s been a hell of a ride with ups and downs.”

“speaking of the one-two, it seemed like the team orders situation was a bit out of control. how worried were you that lando might not actually let you pass?” nico pressed. jesus christ, what a question. you had to give it to him, the man knew how to stir up shit. part of you wanted to throw it back at nico, ask him about his experiences with team orders with lewis, but it was a fleeting thought.

“yeah, it was a bit hairy, but everything got resolved,” you answered, choosing your words carefully. you knew it was a thin line that you were walking. one small misstep and headlines would be plastered all over the internet. “i would’ve felt the same as lando, y’know, but it worked out in the end.”

nico nodded, eyes darting to cast a brief judgmental glance at the team before smiling at you. he was on your side, thank god. “well, congrats on the maiden win,” he said.

“thank you,” you replied, smiling. walking back over to the team, you took a sip of water and asked oscar, “you’d tell me if i fucked up, right?”

oscar scrunched his nose slightly, the microexpression new to you. “you’re going to need to specify,” he deadpanned, leaning on the metal barrier. “there’s a lot you could be referring to.”

“oi, shut up,” you protested, half-heartedly hitting his arm. “but for real, you’d let me know if i said the wrong thing, right, osc?” the question kind of manifested itself; you just needed someone to tell you that you hadn’t messed up the team dynamic, that you hadn’t royally screwed up and fed into the media’s crap by supplying clickbait headlines.

oscar gave you a confused look, as to why you were asking if he would randomly assume the job of your pr manager as extra work, a question that you didn’t even know the answer to yourself. he shrugged. “yeah, of course.”

“you’re lying,” you laughed, still on the high of winning. idly, you adjusted your hat, needing something to do now that you weren’t driving a formula one car.

“no, it’s just, i reckon it would reflect poorly on me somehow,” oscar chuckled, and seriously, what the hell was happening? because your race engineer was joking and laughing all weekend when he would normally have his chill and neutral demeanor on.

“typical,” you snorted, rolling your eyes. “hey, aren’t you coming on the podium?”

the corner of oscar’s mouth twitched, as if itching to flatten into a straight line. “i, uh think andrea is going up since it’s a one-two.”

your brain seemed empty as you searched for a response, settling on a classy and sophisticated “oh.” then you continued, “i guess that’s fine. but i think you should be up there in my unbiased opinion.”

oscar let out a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners, and had he ever laughed this hard at something you’ve said? if you had looked at him now, you wouldn’t even be able to tell that he was a quiet, collected person you’ve known for a season and a half. giving oscar a thumbs up, you went down to the cooldown room and instantly regretted doing so.

your eyes landed immediately on lando’s cap on the ground and the slight wince lewis had, presumably from his own trauma. well, shit.

you pressed your lips together, shuffling to your seat next to lewis. the race highlights started to play, and you watched attentively as a way to escape the frosty tension. lewis seemed to pick up on the lack of words between you and your teammate, starting to comment on the race. you jumped in, grateful for the distraction as you and lando added little pieces of commentary. granted, it was still awkward, but between wincing as max went over lewis’ tyre and watching a ferrari and a red bull duke it out, it was better. thank goodness for lewis hamilton.

as you headed to the podium, lewis seemed to want nothing to do with his old hauntings and booked it out of the cooldown room. that left you and lando walking in line with each other. casting a quick glance at him, you saw that he was looking back at you as well. “so…” you dragged out, unsure what your teammate would say.

“y’know i’m not mad at you, right?” lando asked, dragging a hand through his unkempt curls and down his face. “just pissed that it was so messy when it didn’t have to be.” your older teammate let out a sigh, eyes cast upwards.

honestly, same.

“it’s how i feel too,” you responded, mouth pinched into a line. looking at him, an apology was on the tip of your tongue, but at the same time, you didn’t say anything. it wasn’t your place to apologize, you had earned that win. if anything, mclaren should be apologizing. “you going to the party tonight?”

“i suppose i will,” lando shrugged, fixing his race suit. “is the team going?”

you nodded. “pretty sure. i mean, even oscar’s going tonight, so full house.” your teammate paused, tilting his head in confusion.

“wait, what do you mean ‘oscar is going'? you know he never goes out.” lando raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what kind of sorcery you had used.

“it was a bet,” you explained, waving a hand. “he’d never go on his own.” arriving at the podium, you stopped and waited while lewis went out, glancing out while lando blinked, taking in your words.

“sorry, what? he agreed to a bet?” lando questioned, head tilting. “as in oscar piastri, your race engineer, oscar?”

“yeah?” you replied, eyebrows furrowing. before lando could continue asking you questions, he had to go up on the podium.

what was the big deal? sure, you knew oscar was a bit of a reserved guy, but surely lando didn’t have to be that theatrical. it was a 1-2 for the team—of course he was going out. and plus, he was your engineer, which meant your win was a cause for celebration for him as well. yeah, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself. it’s not like he was a robot, and a bet was a bet. lando was just being dramatic, you concluded.

regardless, you didn’t have any more time to ponder as you went up to the podium. walking out, the sun hit your eyes a little too strongly, and it was weird seeing your face on the big screen with first place under it. but the cheers of the crowd, the sea of fans, and then standing atop the top step? it was glorious and better than you ever could’ve dreamed up.

when you were little, you used to love going on the swing rides, claiming it felt like flying. you were wrong. this, the feeling of standing on top in victory and having the crowd cheer your name, was soaring; you were soaring. spiritually. metaphorically. whatever.

when the beautiful porcelain trophy was handed to you, you had to restrain yourself from tossing it in the air. you did not want a repeat of last year, and the result of max’s broken trophy. the trophy itself was beautiful, white with rich green swirls that you knew were hand-painted on.

then, your anthem played, your head held high. it was relief, ecstasy. you had done it, you were here. glancing down, your eyes met oscar’s, who gave you a smile and a thumbs up, a swoop of hair falling over his forehead. he should be up here. yeah, it did make sense for andrea to come with you and lando since it was a 1-2, but also, it was your first race win. oscar deserved to be here with you.

before you knew it, it was time for champagne, with lewis on your left and lando on your right. you shook the bottle, taking it all in as you were drenched. andrea joined in, much to your amusement. the confetti fell—red, white, and green rain as you soaked it all in.

but if oscar were here, he’d probably awkwardly stand to the side until you went over and started drenching him. he’d chuckle and probably surprise you by dumping the champagne on your head, citing how it was a rite of passage. oscar would politely clink his bottle with yours, and you’d grin at him, and you didn’t know where your brain was going with this, but—

you wished oscar were here. you wanted oscar to be here with you, to share this moment with him.

after the picture, you hopped off the podium and back to the pits, eager to be back with the team. as you returned, champagne bottle in hand, the garage erupted into cheers; mechanics, engineers, marketing—they were all huddling around you to extend their personal congratulations.

you didn’t care for them right now. making your way to the front, your eyes met warm chocolate. as oscar saw you, his eyes widened a fraction for a brief second, the way he did when he heard something particularly interesting or surprising. “osc!” you grinned, shaking the remnants of what champagne you had left, some fizz spraying onto oscar’s shirt. he just stood there, a fond look of incredulity on his face as he didn’t move. shaking his head, your race engineer leaned forward to let the champagne drip onto the ground, chuckling.

“you couldn’t have waited until after team photos?” he asked with a sigh, eyes still crinkled at the corners from smiling.

“you know me,” you snickered, patting him a tad too hard on the back.

“unfortunately, i do.” oscar rolled his eyes as you shuffled over to where the rest of the team was getting ready to take the picture. grinning wide, you slung an arm around oscar and your number one mechanic as you held up a finger, careful not to poke your engineer.

once the picture was done, you jumped, feeling cold liquid seep down your spine. twisting around, you saw oscar dumping a bottle of champagne, a shit-eating grin on his face. you gave him a choice finger, dodging out of his reach. safe, you thought. wrong. your race engineer shook the bottle once, twice, and pointed it right at you.

you think you yelped as you scrambled off, dodging past papaya personnel, laughing with oscar on your heels. as you kept going down the pit lane, you stopped when ferrari team members were in the way, turning around and being met with a face of champagne. “wow, lovely. thanks, osc,” you said sarcastically, wiping your face as you two headed back to mclaren.

“had to get you back,” oscar shrugged, a faint smug grin on his face. “and i told you that you had this in the bag.”

“yeah, but you lost the bet,” you snorted as you arrived back at your garage. “you have to come out with us tonight.”

“pretty sure i was going the be forced either way.” oscar simply blinked with a nonchalance that you were still trying to understand. “i mean, it is a one-two.”

“okay, i get it,” you scoffed, waving him off with faux annoyance. “you’re a witch and you saw the outcome in your crystal ball, gotcha. we ought to pull a salem witch trial.”

you heard a laugh, turning around to see oscar folded over, shoulders quaking. you’d never heard this, a true, gleeful laugh. but it made you smile, made you feel like you were in on a secret where oscar laughed at your very extremely funny jokes.

“mate, it wasn’t that funny,” you protested, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

that only made oscar snicker, turning around as will called for him. “to each their own,” he responded. taking a step towards will, he hesitated, turning back to make sure you hadn’t left. his eyes were softer, chocolate syrup rather than chestnut with a gleam of amusement. “see you later tonight?”

“yeah,” you nodded, unsure why your voice dropped in volume as well, ignoring all of the mclaren personnel moving around you.

the venue was packed; soft music floated over the hum of chatter, and champagne flutes were in most people’s hands as they talked to each other. as you arrived, team members raised their glasses to you with the occasional cheering while you smiled and thanked them awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. after all, it was your first time doing all this on such a large scale.

you had already spent an hour deliberating on your outfit before settling with orange because, c’mon, it was a mclaren party after all. you flitted around absentmindedly, stopping for a quick chat with andrea, zak, and lando. but as ten minutes passed, oscar was still nowhere to be seen. (well, that’s what you thought since you definitely weren’t checking.)

then, the tap of cool fingers on your shoulder made you almost jump, whirling around to see who it was. warm chocolate eyes met yours, instantly giving you an answer. “you’re late,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at his simple fit of a white button down and some khaki shorts.

oscar let out a strangled chuckle, fingers running through his swooped hair as he leaned in to hear you better over the noise. “yeah, didn’t know what to wear and had last-minute second thoughts.” he pursed his lips and did that scrunkle thing with his face when he was uncertain. you mentally paused for a second, taking in oscar’s appearance. sure, he looked polished and pristine from the outside, but you weren’t just anybody. he was your engineer, you were his driver.

you noticed how he shoved his hands in his pockets, hesitant. you noticed how his eyes would occasionally drift before settling back on you. you noticed how he was rocking on the balls of his feet, something he only did as he was watching telemetry data during crucial testing or tense moments when you were driving.

you noticed oscar piastri. and now you couldn’t stop noticing him. you remembered how he had squeezed your shoulder when you won the sprint in qatar, a smile on his face. you thought back to how gently he spoke when you were on the verge of tears after a disappointing qualifying session in your rookie season, one hand steadying your back. but most of all, how he was always there for you in your corner, with his soft eyes and princely swooped hair.

holy fuck. this—this was dangerous. you were in love with your race engineer. it was a bad idea, you knew that. it would feed headlines for the rest of the season, distract you and the team, and end up with oscar losing his job, plus his career. you would love him, and then eventually, mclaren would take him away. you knew that.

“you want some champagne?” you offered, turning towards the bar. oscar quickly shook his head, a curl falling over his forehead, making your heart pang.

“nah, i prefer sprite,” oscar shrugged. you nodded, heading over to the bar and asking for a sprite. you were the race winner; there was no way the bartender could’ve said no.

the can was still cold, metal chilling and condensation beading up and dripping down your hand. maybe it was your imagination, it likely was, but as you handed oscar the drink, it turned red in your vision. crimson trickled down your wrist as veins and arteries stuck out. you could feel the gentle pulse, thrumming in your hand.

carefully, you held your bleeding heart out to oscar, hoping he’d take care of it now that you had given it to him. with a precise yet gentle movement, he took it with two hands, as if you had given him a trophy rather than a can of sprite. or was it your heart? you couldn’t tell at this point.

and then you forced yourself to snap out of it. oh god, you were hallucinating. giving oscar a quick nod, you turned and headed for the little outdoor area where less people were. this was too risky, too reckless. and sure, sometimes you drove like it, but this was too uncalculated, even for you.

exhaling, you leaned against the wall, a hand on your head in an attempt to steady your thoughts. not a moment, oscar came into your peripheral, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “hey, are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer to try and see what was wrong. “did you have too much to drink?”

you shook your head, words still struggling to form from the weight of it all. and also because oscar was dangerously close to you. but you chose not to think too much about that. “i haven’t had any alcohol,” you managed to get out. you stood up properly and promptly decided to sit back down on a bench, basking in the cool evening air and the faint moon, a hole of light in the star-scattered sky. after a slow breath, you had calmed down and collected your thoughts, turning to face oscar, who had wordlessly sat down next to you. “i didn’t drink any alcohol because i want to remember every moment from tonight, not forget it all in a hangover.”

your stomach underwent metamorphosis, butterflies bursting to life as oscar dragged his gaze from the full moon to you, soft lighting hitting his face perfectly. “i think i would do the same,” he nodded, something deeper than understanding in his eyes, something softer. blinking, you turned back to the sky, hoping that if you just avoided the issue, everything would be fine.

“i wouldn’t have won without you.” the words left your mouth without prelude, and you kept your eyes trained forward. “so thank you. i don’t thank you enough.” you could feel oscar looking at you, his calm gaze burning your skin.

“i don’t think that’s true,” he responded after a beat of silence as if gathering his thoughts like he did with his post-it notes after a debrief. “i think you would’ve won anyway. you’re a mega driver and a fighter too.”

that got a smile out of you, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards even as you tried to stay cool. “still, i don’t think many other race engineers have the courage to go and ask the team about team orders on my behalf,” you protested, determined not to let oscar sell himself short. “and you always know where i can find more time, and you say the right thing. osc, i mean it, i wouldn’t have won without you.”

this time, you glanced over at him, watching as the tips of his ears flush pink as a bashful smile filled his face. “thanks,” he murmured. “glad i ended up working with you.”

oh your heart. he couldn’t just say things like that because then it would cause you to say irrational things. your cheeks flushed as you fidgeted with your hands, heart setting a flying lap. silence fell over you two before you said, “y’know, i wish you were on the podium with me today. would’ve made it perfect.”

a flicker of surprise crossed oscar’s face, a fond smile forming. “yeah?” he asked, voice soft. “still got to see you on the top step. i’m so proud of you.” his hand went to squeeze your shoulder, the gesture making your head spin.

“are you going to leave mclaren?” you blurted. your brain had just said what came to mind, what you wanted to know, one of the fears nagging at your brain. with the win, you had started to notice how easy things were with oscar, how you enjoyed his presence, and if he were just to leave, you didn’t know if you could handle that. you turned away from oscar, mortally embarrassed that you apparently had no brain-to-mouth filter.

oscar opened his mouth and closed it, caught wildly off-guard, eyebrows furrowing in a way that really shouldn’t make your heart pang. “what? why would i be leaving mclaren?” your engineer asked, slightly panicked and confusion evident with the way he tilted his head, trying to deduce why you would say that with his engineering ways.

you shook your head, still not meeting his eyes. “never mind, stupid question.” your voice was clipped, nails picking at the hem of your dress. now, the silence engulfed the conversation, a black hole that you wished would take you with it.

“hey, it wasn’t stupid, something’s wrong,” oscar frowned, shifting forward to meet your gaze. “you know i’m here for you.” his hand came to gently pat your back, fingers warm through the fabric of your dress. if you weren’t here messing things up, you’d think it was romantic, even.

“i don’t want you to leave, osc. like ever,” you said, voice quiet to the point where it was barely audible. “i don’t want any other race engineer.” the implication hung heavy with your words, the stars blinking at you as you stared at them. turning back, you watched oscar’s eyes widen a fraction as realization settled in them. too late, now you had gone and messed things up permanently. but, you supposed there wasn’t a way to make things worse. “i want you to keep using that stupid mclaren corporate pen to debrief. i want you to keep telling me that i’m doing okay after rough sessions. i want to keep bugging you to come out to clubs during track walks. i want you to keep believing in me, osc. i couldn’t stop thinking about you on the podium; i always can’t stop thinking about you. i really like you but i know you wouldn’t want to fuck up your career and i respect that. but you’re the reason i’m here, and i can’t stop thinking about you.”

you were rambling, the kind you did when you got panicky and didn’t know what to do. oscar blinked once. twice. he was waiting, and it left you wondering if you needed to clarify. and then he moved, hand cupping your cheek as he looked at you, brown eyes scanning your face, lips dangerously close to your own. “i thought i was going crazy,” he admitted softly. “i’d admired you while telling myself that all you needed me to do was analyze the data. but you’re so amazing and you inspire me every day. i don’t care what the team says, i’ve waited too long for this.” he licked his lips, an unfiltered longing on his face as his gaze dropped down your face. “can i kiss you now?”

one second you were nodding your head, the next, oscar’s lips were against yours, reaction time almost rivaling yours. butterflies instantly threatened to break out of your stomach as his lips were warm and soft, one of his hands finding a home on your waist to tug you closer, as if he was afraid that you would drift away. your hand finally wove into the hair you had admired for some time, one wrapped around oscar’s neck to pull him down to you.

you pulled back, catching your breath, as oscar leaned forward and pecked your lips one, two, three times, making your knees weak despite sitting. and it all sunk in—oscar had kissed you. that caused you to break into a smile, mouth curving upward on its own volition. it felt surreal, like you were in a lucid dream. but then oscar reached for your hand, squeezing it as his fingers intertwined with yours to give you something to ground yourself.

“so,” oscar started, eyes crinkling as he gave you a soft smile. “if that happens every time you win, you should really try to win the championship.” you laughed, hitting his chest playfully.

“oh, shut up,” you snorted, leaning into his side. instinctively, oscar’s arm came to wrap around shoulder, keeping you close. you could tell how relaxed he was, a stark difference to how he was months ago. “you don’t know how much i’ve been wanting to do that.”

oscar’s eyes flitted down to you, a smile so fond, and sickeningly sweet on his face that made you melt. “i’m flattered,” he chuckled, reaching forward and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture that made your heart flutter at how gentle he was.

your gaze turned back to the stars, beautiful though they had nothing on oscar. letting out a contented sigh, you turned back to find oscar observing you with a shy grin, fingers still tangled with yours. leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his in a lazy kiss because you had time. even though you’d have to face the team again, if you didn’t know what was going to happen, you kissed him gently under the stars—you had all night.

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #op81 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 imagine #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #papaya writes

1K notes · View notes

cheftsunoda · 2 months ago

Note

Would you consider doing something with a quiet/ reserved reader. I love the idea of a reader who's an up and coming driver but isn't about the press or media at ALL. Like dodging cameras and running away from interviews, and maybe a boy (I don't mind who you pick) misunderstands and thinks that she's running away from them? Maybe add some drama from f1 update twt accounts escalating the situation and painting the reader in a negative light for being "rude" or "impolite".

Thx!! (Sorry for any confusion, English is not my first language but I hope you get what I mean)

miss misunderstood— op81

smau + blurbs

oscar piastri x !quiet/shy driver reader

yn has a lot of pressure on her shoulders— she is the only female driver in f1 and that leads to her consistently having to prove herself to not only her team, who took a chance on her, but the press who are constantly there hounding her. she has always been very shy and reserved— especially around people she does not know. when fans notice how she skips out on interviews and hides from big crowds, the hate pours in, especially after she is seen avoiding a conversation with the grids other most quiet individual— but he is persistent and wont give up on her.

(a/n) : such a cute idea anon! i understood you perfectly fine my love. i hope you enjoy this. i thought it would be fun to pair reader with someone who is also rather quiet and reserved.

fc : amna al qubaisi

—

f1gossipgirls

257,087 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Almost all of our favorite drivers have touched down in Barcelona for media day. Some of our first arrivals include YN LN, Charles Leclerc, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris and George Russell.

—

view 32,057 other comments.

username0 : george not dressed properly for the weather pt 899

liked by f1gossipgirls

username10 : yn always looks like she doesn’t want to be there. why is she even in f1 if she hates to do the job??

username15 : everyone is smiling, waiving, talking to fans and press and then there is yn who immediately books it to the paddock and ignores everyone

username22 : ill say it once and i will say it again— f1 is not a silent film. she either needs to speak up and play the role or step aside. good driver or not. that job comes with more responsibilities than just driving around the track.

username5 : she gives off “im better than everyone else” energy and im sick of her.

username00 : every time i try and like her, she gives us absolutely nothing. cold and awkward isn’t a personality, babe.

↳ username9 : yet you guys eat it up when oscar does it. the double standard is insane.

liked by f1gossipgirls

username11 : its always the quiet ones y’all tear apart for not being loud enough. she’s there to drive. not entertain you.

liked by f1gossipgirls

username17 : you guys are extra hard on her because she is a female. and it is sick.

username101 : she minds her business, she’s fast, and she is unproblematic. you guys are just finding reasons to hate her. jealousy is a disease.

liked by f1gossipgirls

—

They say I’m cold. Unfriendly. Standoffish. Like I’m trying too hard to be mysterious or above it all. But they don’t know me. Not really. Because if they did, they’d know I used to be warm. I used to talk too much. Laugh too loud. Hug people without thinking twice. But that was before. Before the phone call. Before the hospital room. Before the person who knew me better than anyone else—who loved me without needing me to be anything but myself—was just… gone.

Losing a parent is something people talk about like it’s a passage. A sad inevitability. But they don’t talk about what it does to you when it’s sudden. When it’s brutal. When the last words you said were something stupid because you thought you had more time. My dad was my safe place. The only person I could fall apart around. He was the reason I started racing. The reason I believed I could do anything. And when I lost him, I didn’t just lose a person—I lost myself. I haven’t spoken about it. Not to anyone.

Not to my engineers. Not to my teammates. Not to the drivers who think I’m just “shy” or “quiet” or “moody.” Because once I say it out loud, it becomes real in a way I’m not ready for. It becomes the thing people pity me for instead of the thing I’ve survived. So I stay quiet. I keep the noise out. I protect the stillness inside me. People don’t understand it, and that’s fine. They think I’m emotionless when really, I’m overflowing and just trying not to drown. I hear what they say. The fans. The media. That I don’t engage. That I don’t give enough. But I didn’t come here to be their favorite. I came here to race. I came here to honor my father. To survive something else. To find moments of peace between the chaos and the grief that still sits like stone in my chest.

They’ll never understand why I am the way I am. Because they never saw me before. Before the silence felt safer than the world ever did. And I don’t owe them an explanation for that.

—

The air in Barcelona is thick with heat and noise—press cameras clicking, fans shouting driver names like spells, a thousand voices layered on top of each other. I keep my head down but offer a small smile, lifting my hand in a quiet wave. They cheer anyway. Some scream my name. Others don’t. Some just stare, waiting for me to trip or ignore them or give them proof I’m “as cold as they say.”

I smile again, even if it doesn’t reach my eyes. It’s not fake—it’s just not loud.

Security walks with me as I cross the paddock. My eyes flicker over the cameras stationed outside team motorhomes, the reporters already calling out names, hoping for a quote. I tighten my grip on the strap of my bag. Just a few more steps.

I keep walking. Fast, but not suspiciously fast. Just enough to dodge the press circling like hawks, waiting for a moment of weakness, a headline, a clipped quote that can be turned into whatever version of me they want to sell this week.

Finally, I step inside Red Bull. The air conditioning kisses my skin. The silence—relative silence—is heaven. I make it to my driver room, push the door shut with my shoulder, and lean against it for a second. Eyes closed. Deep breath. The chaos is muffled now, like a storm just beyond the walls. Then the door opens again without a knock.

“Nice escape,” Max says, completely unfazed. He shuts the door behind him like he owns the building. “You only almost ran over two photographers. New record?”

I huff out a laugh—quiet but real. “Felt like twenty.”

He drops into the chair across from me like he’s been doing this his whole life. Which, to be fair, he basically has.

Max studies me for a second, unreadable as always. “You look like you’re about to vomit. That your media day face?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

He shrugs. “Just saying. You do realize they can’t eat you alive on camera, right? Legally.”

“I don’t know. I think one of the Sky guys has sharp enough teeth.”

He chuckles, dry and quiet. “You’ll be fine. Say as little as possible. Give one-word answers. Scowl a little. That’s what I do.”

“You give plenty of one-word answers.”

“Exactly,” he says, proud. “It’s an art.”

He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, face softening just slightly.

“They don’t matter, you know. The journalists. The fans who think they know you. The Twitter freaks. You’re fast. That’s what counts. That’s what wins. Let them think you’re a robot or a villain or a Bond girl or whatever mood they’re in this week.”

I nod. A slow exhale.

“Thanks, Max.”

He shrugs again. “Just don’t cry on camera. I already have a reputation for being emotionally unavailable. Don’t need yours adding to the Verstappen Cold Front.”

This time, I laugh out loud. He grins. Mission accomplished.

“Go be scary,” he says, pushing himself up. “And if you panic, just pretend they’re all standing in front of your car at turn one.”

“I’d drive through them.”

“Exactly.”

He leaves without another word, and for the first time all morning, I feel like I can breathe.

—

I answer with the same even tone I always do. I deflect, redirect, smile where I’m supposed to. I’ve trained myself not to flinch. But it still chips away at me, a little at a time. I finally escape outside, tucked behind one of the Red Bull displays near the fan zone—close enough to be seen, far enough to feel like I’m not drowning. I sip from a water bottle, hoping the air might settle in my lungs again. That’s when I see her.

A girl, maybe twelve, in a handmade cap with my number scribbled on it in glitter glue. She’s holding a small notebook and a marker, standing with her dad and hesitating like she doesn’t want to bother me. I almost keep walking. I’m tired. Overheated. Ready to shut down for the rest of the day. But something in her eyes stops me. She doesn’t look like the others—she looks like she’s trying to be brave. So I walk over.

Her eyes go wide when I stop in front of her. “Hi,” I offer, voice soft.

She blinks. Then holds out the notebook with slightly trembling hands. “Um—sorry, I just—could you sign this? I know you don’t really like talking to people a lot, but you’re my favorite. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want.”

My chest tightens. Not in a bad way—in the way it does when something hits a nerve you didn’t know was still exposed. I take the notebook and sign it carefully.

“You know,” she says, voice quiet, “I get nervous talking to people too. But I think you’re really brave. I like that you don’t try to be loud just to fit in. You make me feel like that’s okay.”

I blink fast. It’s not the kind of compliment I get. It’s not about speed or podiums or stats. It’s about me. The parts I’ve always kept hidden because the world made me feel like they were wrong. I smile—genuinely this time—and crouch a little so we’re eye level.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “That means more than you know.”

Her face lights up like I just handed her a trophy. We take a photo. I sign her hat. She hugs me before I even have time to react—but I don’t mind. Not even a little. As I walk away, I feel lighter. Like the weight pressing on my shoulders loosened just a little. Maybe I’ll always be the quiet one. The misunderstood one. But to that one girl? I was seen. And that’s enough.

—

The moment I cross the line, the radio explodes.

“P1, YN! That’s P1! You did it! You absolutely nailed that last stint—what a drive!”

I don’t say much. I can’t. My throat is tight and my hands are shaking around the wheel. The pit wall is screaming, my engineer shouting through the static. The grandstands blur into one giant roar. I slow the car down and guide it into parc fermé, P1 board waiting. The marshals are waving, cameras already turned in my direction like hungry mouths. I sit still for a beat. The engine is off, the world is loud, but in my cockpit it’s just… quiet. Then I hear it—Max’s car pulling into P2.

“Let’s go,” I murmur to myself and start the slow climb out.

But my limbs feel heavy. Every emotion I’ve buried all year starts clawing its way to the surface, and I’m suddenly not sure if I’ll make it over the halo without falling flat on my face. And then—there’s a hand. Max, already out of his car, standing beside mine like it’s the most casual thing in the world. He holds his hand out without a word. Just a look that says, Yeah, I know. Take it. I take it. He helps me out of the car, firm but unshowy. As soon as I hit the ground, I sway a little, overwhelmed—but I don’t fall.

He leans in, dry as ever. “You know you’re supposed to breathe when you win, right?”

I huff out something between a laugh and a sob. “I’ll try next time.”

Our helmets clink together briefly as we hug—quick, tight, familiar—and then he nudges me toward my team. They’re already there—Red Bull crew surrounding me, cheering, hugging, spraying water. I let myself fall into it for a moment. I smile, genuinely. I hug back. One of the engineers lifts me off the ground and spins me, and I let them. Because this is theirs, too. Ours. But just as the broadcasters and press start pushing through the sea of mechanics, I slip away—ducking behind the barrier, walking briskly toward the cooldown room before they can catch me.

I hear a few voices behind me—“YN, one word for Sky? Just a few seconds?”

I keep walking. The cooldown room is blissfully empty. Cold, quiet, white walls and a table with water and towels. I sit, press the bottle to my forehead, and finally breathe. No cameras. No questions. No pretending. Just silence. Just peace. Just… me. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like enough.

—

The water bottle sweats in my hands, condensation dripping slowly onto my race suit. I haven’t said much since sitting down, and Max hasn’t asked me to. He’s lounging across from me on the other bench, head tilted back, eyes closed like he owns the room. His suit is halfway peeled down and his hair’s a sweaty mess, but he looks… content. Neither of us are fans of the overexposed post-race routine. The lights. The forced questions. The soundbites that get twisted a dozen ways before the sun even sets. So we sit here, in the eye of the storm, letting the world knock on the door without answering.

Max finally cracks an eye open. “You going to do the interviews?”

I lean my head back against the cool wall and sigh. “Eventually. Maybe. If they don’t forget I exist by then.”

He grins slightly. “You just won. They’ll send a SWAT team if you don’t come out soon.”

Before I can answer, the door opens — fast but tentative — and in walks Camille, my press secretary. She’s breathless. Her clipboard’s half tucked under her arm, and she looks like she’s been fighting off wolves outside.

“YN,” she starts, trying for calm but clearly begging on the inside, “I hate to interrupt, but they’re getting antsy. Sky, F1TV, everyone’s lining up. They want quotes, a soundbite—anything.”

I nod slowly. I expected this. It doesn’t make it any easier.

“I’m not doing the scrum,” I say. “Not the pen. Not the mixed zone.”

Camille looks like she wants to scream into a pillow. “Okay. Fine. What will you do?”

I glance at Max, who’s watching like it’s the most entertaining episode of Drive to Survive he’s seen all year.

“One interview,” I finally say. “That’s it.”

Camille’s already flipping through her mental rolodex. “Okay. Sky? F1TV? Maybe something for social? Martin Brundle is waiting and—”

“No,” I cut her off, gently but firm. “If I do one, it’s with Lissie. No one else.”

Camille blinks. “Lissie—Lissie Mackintosh from Sky?”

I nod.

“She’s the only one who doesn’t make me feel like I’m under a microscope,” I explain. “She’s kind. And she actually listens.”

Camille softens a little. “Okay. I can work with that. But they’ll push back.”

“Let them,” I shrug. “I don’t owe them anything else today.”

She studies me for a moment, then exhales and heads out, already dialing her phone as she goes.

The door shuts again, and I fall back into the silence like it’s a blanket.

Max raises a brow. “Lissie, huh?”

“She doesn’t try to make me a headline,” I reply.

Max gives a nod of respect. “Smart. Wish we all had a Lissie.”

I glance down at my fingers, still slightly trembling from adrenaline. “I just need someone who sees me.”

“You just won a damn Grand Prix,” Max says, standing and nudging my foot with his. “They’re gonna have to see you now, whether they like it or not.”

—

yn's post race interview with lissie mackintosh- barcelona

—

third person pov

YN steps down from the small stage, fingers tugging at the collar of her suit as if she’s trying to breathe easier now that the lights are off. She’s walking fast, already focused on making it back to the safety of the garage. She doesn’t see Oscar until she turns the corner, he is halfway through his own interview with a different outlet. He’s smiling—tired, but still upbeat—and when he spots her, his expression brightens like he’s been waiting for a chance to say something. Oscar turned to YN as she passed by.

“You should really be talking to the winner, huh?”

His voice is friendly. Joking. The kind of throwaway line that’s meant to show camaraderie, not pressure. YN pauses just for a second. She offers a small, polite smile—closed-lipped and barely there. No laugh. No response. Just a nod. And then she’s gone. Quiet steps, fast retreat.

Oscar watches her disappear down the corridor, his smile faltering slightly. His interviewer says something, but he doesn’t really register it.

“…Did I say something weird?”

He turns back to the camera, eyes a little more unsure. In the back of his mind, the question settles in— Does she just not like me? But the truth is simpler. And sadder. She doesn’t dislike him. She just doesn’t have room for warmth in the places where the world watches too closely.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Race Winner, YN LN, only gave 1 two minute interview with @/skysports Lissie Mackintosh. Oscar Piastri who was P3 today, was also doing an interview when LN happened to walk by and made a joke to which YN just walked off. He then asked the interviewer if he said something wrong. Thoughts?

view 120,004 comments.

username00 : imagine winning a race and still managing to have the personality of dry toast 😭 poor oscar was just being NICE

username22 : as someone who watched the full interview with Lissie — she was genuine and soft spoken. maybe what she needs is respect, not attention.

username08 : i love Oscar but this isn’t that deep. she clearly has boundaries and isn’t fake about it. that’s kind of refreshing.

username09 : she didn’t even thank the fans today. one interview and vanishes? okay ice queen 🧊

username17 : not her making Oscar second guess himself when he was literally just being sweet? i would NEVER recover.

username20 : this is why she’s boring. no charisma, no interviews, no interaction. i said what i said. 🥱

username30 : are y’all ignoring the interaction she had with a younger fan today?? she is such a sweetie, she is just camera shy.

—

ynfromredbull

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, redbullracing and 1,7005,002 others.

ynfromredbull : good shit.

—

view 74,032 other comments.

lissiemackintosh : Honored to have been the one to share part of this day with you. Congratulations again, YN! ✨

liked by ynfromredbull

username0 : i feel like max is the only one that understands her.

maxverstappen1 : good shit indeed.

liked by ynfromredbull and redbullracing

oscarpiastri : Insane drive today, YN. 💪🏻

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ username0 : oscar is much better than me bc id be a hater rn

alexalbon : can someone pls nerf the redbull team. i am tired.

liked by maxverstappen1, ynfromredbull and redbullracing

username10 : can y'all shut up now- she is literally taking pictures with fans.

↳ username0 : wowww one time in her whole career.

carlossainz55 : such a beast. congratulations yn

liked by ynfromredbull

—

I don’t like nights like this. Too many people. Too many lights. Too many eyes that don’t know me but swear they do. I don’t stop for cameras, I don’t pose, I don’t even slow down when someone calls my name. I just head straight inside the theater like I’m late for something, even though I’m not. I keep my eyes low, find the row I asked Max to save for me, and drop into the seat beside him with a quiet exhale. He glances at me, unimpressed but amused.

“Nice entrance. Scared three PR people on the way in.”

I almost smile. “Was aiming for five.”

He snorts, and just like that, I feel a little more human. Max has always understood the value of silence. He never pushes, never demands more than I can give. We talk a little—about the ridiculousness of the event, the car updates, the championship—but mostly, we just sit. It’s enough. Until I feel a shift. I don’t even have to look up. I can sense someone walking toward us with too much hesitation, like they’ve already decided I’m going to run. When I do glance up, I’m met with wide brown eyes and a nervous smile. Oscar.

“Hey. Sorry—YN? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Max raises a brow. I pause, heart twitching in my chest for reasons I don’t fully understand, and then I nod. I follow Oscar into the hallway, the noise of the event fading behind me like static. The lighting is dimmer here. Softer. Still too bright. He turns to face me, shifting on his feet like he’s rehearsed this five times already.

“I, um—did I do something to upset you?”

My stomach drops.

“What?”

“After the race. I made that joke and you just… walked off. And I get it if you’re not a fan of me or something, I just—” He laughs nervously. “I keep thinking I said something wrong.”

I blink. I want to laugh, but I don’t. Instead, I look down, ashamed.

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” My voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “It’s not you. It’s just… me.”

He looks confused. Still gentle, though. Waiting. I don’t know why, but I want to explain—just a little.

“When I was younger, I lost someone. My dad. He was… my person. The one who made the noise of the world feel a little less loud. And after it happened, I kind of… shut off. I don’t like being watched. I don’t like being asked to smile when I don’t feel like it. I just… exist better in the quiet.”

Oscar doesn’t speak for a long moment. But his expression softens in a way that makes my chest ache.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says eventually. “But thank you for trusting me.”

I nod, throat tight. Then, a flicker of guilt. “And I’m sorry for walking off like that. You didn’t deserve it.”

He smiles, shy and genuine.

“So… you don’t hate me?”

That makes me laugh. Just once, but it’s real.

“No,” I say softly. “I don’t.”

There’s a pause, and for the first time since I got here, I feel something shift in my chest. A crack of light.

He nudges me lightly with his shoulder. “Cool. Friends, then?”

I think about it. About how hard it is to let people in. About how much it scares me.

Then I nod. “Yeah. Friends.”

—

3 month time skip

ynfromredbull

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, lando & 2,409,001 others.

ynfromredbull : as my counterpart @/maxverstappen1 would say— these last few months have been simply lovely. 🏆💪🏻

—

view 127,002 other comments.

username0 : this caption is the most personality i’ve seen from her all season.

username14 : i can’t believe she is leading the wdc rn

maxverstappen1 : id sue for copyright infringement if i wasn’t so proud

liked by ynfromredbull

oscarpiastri : very artistic post yn

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ ynfromredbull : thank you mr. piastri

liked by oscarpiastri

↳ lando : OMG SHE SPEAKS

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ lando : yn i didn’t mean that in a bad way pls don’t drive me off the track

liked by ynfromredbull

georgerussell63 : it is against fia regulations to have a teddy bear in the car. RACE BAN (she is still destroying all of us— it would not help save the season)

liked by ynfromredbull

—

f1gossipgirls

428,023 likes.

f1gossipgirls : For the first time in her F1 career, YN LN has not walked into the paddock alone. She walked in with none other than Oscar Piastri himself. Not only did she walk in with him but the two stopped for the press multiple times and stopped to talk with fans. Many people say that this is the most they’ve seen her smile in her whole career. Thoughts?

—

view 15,539 other comments.

username00 : from Oscar “did I do something wrong?” to Oscar walking her in and making her smile… the arc is so insane

username15 : f1gossipgirls is finally being NICE about her. this is how powerful love is

username17 : i haven’t seen her this relaxed since she debuted. i’d cry if i wasn’t already crying.

username22 : this is NOT a drill. she SMILED. she TALKED. she STOOD STILL for the PRESS. what is happening

username0 : So now she wants the attention? Pick a side. Either be private or don’t.

username14 : she’s literally only tolerable when she’s standing next to a man. that’s so sad lol

username20 : i’m sorry but this whole “she’s just shy” thing got old last season. f1 drivers are public figures. she knew what she signed up for.

—

It happens slowly. Like sunlight through tinted glass — warm but filtered, creeping in without permission. Oscar’s been around a lot lately. Not just in the paddock, where we’re both supposed to be, but everywhere in between. Track walks, post-race debriefs, long flights, short layovers, dinners in quiet towns we don’t name on social media. He’s become part of the background noise of my life, and for once, that doesn’t scare me.

I notice it when we’re sitting side by side in the sim room, not speaking, just existing. The silence between us feels easy now. Familiar. Like I don’t have to earn my space — I just have it. I notice it when he hands me a coffee before I’ve even asked, the way he always remembers I take it black with a splash of oat milk, no sugar. Or when he throws a hoodie at me because I always forget I get cold before FP3.

I notice it most on the plane ride. He’s asleep beside me, his head tilted toward me, headphones slipping. I’m staring at the clouds and thinking about how close I am to the title. Closer than I’ve ever been. I should be terrified. But I’m not. Because he’s here. And for some reason, that grounds me.

He mumbles something in his sleep and leans slightly toward my shoulder. I freeze. Not because I’m uncomfortable — but because I’m suddenly too comfortable. My heart stutters. It’s a dangerous thing, comfort. I’ve avoided it for years, convinced it would disappear the moment I reached for it. But Oscar—he never asked me to reach. He just stayed.

Now I’m sitting in row 8F of some transatlantic flight with a soft-voiced Aussie curled up next to me and a World Championship lead in my lap — and all I can think is... God, I might actually be in love with him. And that’s scarier than any press conference I’ve ever dodged.

—

I could already feel the heat of the Monaco sun pressing down as we stepped out of the car. The walk to the paddock always felt long, even when it wasn’t. My palms were tucked into my jacket pockets, nerves dancing beneath my skin like they always did. But this time, I wasn’t alone.

Oscar walked beside me, chatting softly about absolutely nothing — the weather, the coffee at the hotel, the chaos of the Monte Carlo grid. I appreciated it. His voice was grounding. I didn’t have to say anything, and he didn’t expect me to.

I kept my eyes low, used to the flashes of phones and the buzz of people trying to get my attention. Normally, I’d keep walking. Fast. Direct. No room for error. But then I heard it.

“YN!”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t aggressive. Just… hopeful. I slowed down without thinking. Oscar noticed instantly and stilled beside me.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… give me a sec.”

I turned toward the barricade. A young fan was holding a poster of my car from Australia. I’d won that race. My name was scrawled across the sidepod in sharp lettering — a moment frozen in time I’d barely let myself process. I took the marker from their hand, signed it quickly but neatly.

“Thank you for today,” the fan said, eyes wide. “You’re… amazing. You’ve always been amazing.”

The words hit me somewhere in the chest I didn’t know was sore.

“…Thanks,” I said, almost too quietly. Then louder: “Thanks for saying that.”

They smiled like I’d handed them gold. I took one photo — just one. And then I stepped back beside Oscar, who gave me a subtle smile. Not too proud. Not too over-the-top. Just there. Solid. Steady. We weren’t even halfway through the paddock before a Sky Sports reporter called out.

“YN! Oscar! Over here?”

I froze.

Oscar looked at me. “Wanna skip it?”

I shook my head. “Just one.”

We walked over together. I didn’t say much — I never do — but I stood there. Present. Listening. And when they asked how I was feeling going into the weekend, the words came before I could edit them.

“Focused,” I said. Then, after a breath: “And a little less alone today.”

Oscar glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. There was a flicker of something soft there, something understanding. It felt… safe. When we finally reached the Red Bull garage, I exhaled for what felt like the first time in twenty minutes. I peeled off my jacket, tugged at the brim of my cap, and tried to disappear through the back. But Max was already leaning on the pit wall, headset half-on, watching me with that unreadable Verstappen face.

“You smiled,” he said, completely monotone. “Terrifying.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”

He smirked just slightly. “I’m just saying… if you become media friendly, I’m going to have to be the difficult one now.”

“You already are,” I deadpanned.

Max laughed under his breath and tossed me a bottle of water. “You did good, LN.”

And for once, I let myself believe it.

—

The world was quiet around us. The kind of hush that only existed in moments like this — between heartbeats, between stares. Monaco’s lights flickered just beyond the windows, gold threads pulling through navy silk. I could hear the sea in the distance. Oscar lay beside me, legs stretched across my duvet like he belonged here. He wasn’t touching me, not yet, but he was close enough that I could feel every inch of space between us — and it made my chest ache.

“You’re quieter than usual,” he said softly, barely above a whisper.

I turned my head toward him. “That’s saying something.”

He smiled, tired and tender. “Fair. Still true.”

I didn’t answer. Because truthfully, I was scared. This was all new. The closeness. The comfort. The way he looked at me like I wasn’t hard to figure out. Then he said it — no fanfare, no buildup, just a simple truth.

“I think I’m falling for you.”

It should’ve terrified me. But it didn’t. Not really. It cracked something open.

I stared at him, eyes burning, heart folding in on itself. “I think I already have,” I breathed, voice barely there.

The silence that followed was thick — not heavy, not awkward. Just real. He reached over, his fingers grazing mine so gently it made my skin buzz. It wasn’t a grab. It was an invitation. And for once in my life, I accepted. I laced my fingers through his and sat up, pulling open the drawer next to my bed. There was only one thing inside — an envelope. Worn at the edges, the flap taped down three times because I’d opened and closed it more than I should have. I handed it to him. His brows furrowed as he opened it slowly. The photo slipped into his hand.

Me, at six. All tiny teeth and wild hair, grinning up like the sun had never set. Standing next to a man in a racing suit. His hand was on my shoulder. The same eyes. The same smirk. My father. Oscar looked between the photo and me, and I saw the shift happen in real time — confusion to understanding to quiet reverence.

“That’s… is that who I think it is?” His voice cracked just slightly.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “My dad.”

I didn’t say his name. I didn’t need to.

“He died when I was eight. It was… it was violent. Sudden. One second he was there, and then he wasn’t. He was my safest place. My everything. After that, I… broke. I stopped talking for months. And when I started again, it was never the same.”

He didn’t move. Just stared at me like I was something delicate, like if he breathed too loudly I might fold in on myself.

“I never told anyone,” I continued, voice barely holding. “I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want to be treated like some ghost of his shadow. I wanted to be me. Just me.”

Oscar’s fingers tightened around mine — not too much, just enough to remind me I wasn’t alone anymore.

“You are,” he whispered. “You’re everything.”

I looked at him then, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like hiding.

“I think he’d like you,” I said, smiling through the burn in my throat.

Oscar leaned in, resting his forehead against mine, and whispered back, “I like you more than I should.”

And in the soft glow of the Monaco skyline, wrapped in the quiet I used to fear, I finally let myself feel it all. Love. Safety. Peace. Him.

—

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, ynfromredbull & 8,029,003 others.

f1 : Your 2025 World Champion, YN LN! Incredible drive this season, YN. This is well deserved.

tagged : ynfromredbull

—

view 239,492 other comments.

username00 : MY QUEEN! CONGRATULATIONS YN.

username15 : gonna be insufferable about this for the next 40 years ok????

susie_wolff : YN has made history. I am forever proud of her.

liked by ynfromredbull and f1

username30 : people doubted her, the press dragged her, and she STILL smoked them all. cold-blooded. we love a quiet assassin 💅

lissiemackintosh : I’ve seen your journey up close. You are everything this sport needs. Congratulations, champion. 💫

liked by ynfromredbull

oscarpiastri : No one more worthy. What a season, YN. 🏆🤍

liked by ynfromredbull

lando : MY GOATTTTTT LFGGGG

liked by ynfromredbull

lewishamilton : It’s been inspiring watching you come into your own. World Champion sounds good on you. 🔥

liked by ynfromredbull

maxverstappen1 : Couldn’t be more proud. YN deserved this more than anyone.

liked by ynfromredbull

—

ynfromredbull

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, lando and 12,037,024 others.

ynfromredbull : this is what it is all about. thank you all. it is an honor to be your 2025 world champ. i hope you grow to love me as much as i love all of you.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

We were far from everything — the noise, the cameras, the endless headlines. Just a small coastal town somewhere in Portugal, sun-drunk and slow, the kind of place where people didn’t care about championship points or last names. Oscar and I had spent the day walking through sleepy markets, eating too much gelato, and laughing at nothing. Now, the two of us lay tangled together on the bed in the little apartment we rented, the linen sheets kicked down to our ankles and the windows cracked open to let in the salt-kissed night air. His hand rested on my stomach, thumb drawing slow circles over the hem of my shirt. The world outside our window was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. Not tonight.

“I want to do it,” I said into the stillness.

He turned his head, his voice a low murmur against my temple. “Do what?”

I hesitated, even though I already knew he’d understand. He always did.

“The interview. I want to finally say it. Talk about… him. All of it.”

Oscar sat up slightly, enough to look at me properly. “You’re sure?”

I nodded, throat tight. “It’s time. I’ve hidden behind the silence for so long. And I don’t want to anymore.”

He searched my eyes, then gently tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You don’t owe anyone your pain, you know. You don’t have to justify who you are.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I want to tell the story. My story. People have made it for me for so long — all the gossip, the assumptions. I’ve let them believe I’m cold or arrogant or just awkward. But the truth is…” I swallowed. “The truth is, I’m just someone who lost the one person that made the world feel safe.”

Oscar’s hand found mine under the sheets, his fingers warm and steady.

“I think he’d be proud of you,” he said softly. “For everything. For surviving. For being brave enough to do this now.”

I blinked hard, staring up at the ceiling to stop the tears from spilling.

“I miss him so much, still. Every day. Sometimes I think that little girl in the paddock died with him — the one who used to talk to everyone, who smiled without thinking about it.”

He pulled me into his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “That girl’s still in there. I see her every time you light up after a race. Every time you laugh when you think no one’s listening. You’re still her. Just… grown, and stronger.”

I breathed him in — the cologne I’d come to associate with safety and something close to peace.

“Will you be there? When I do it?” I asked quietly. “When I finally say his name?”

“Every step,” he said without hesitation. “Always.”

And in that moment, with his arms around me and the stars blinking somewhere above the rooftops, I knew I wasn’t alone anymore.

Not in the silence. Not in the truth. Not ever again.

—

‘hey lissie— its yn. i want to do an exclusive interview with you. if you’re willing.’

’omg hey champ— obviously id be willing to. where do you need me?’

’my house. next week? i can send a plane your way.’

’ill be there. i am honored, yn. truly.’.

—

world champion, yn, sharing her truths from her home in monaco with lissie mackintosh - 1/2/2026

—

ynsenna

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, oscarpiastri & 17,023,004 others.

ynsenna : i’ve spent most of my life trying to be quiet enough not to be noticed. not because i didn’t have anything to say—but because grief took the words from me before i ever had the chance to speak.

this season changed my life. not just because of the results, but because i finally stopped running from the part of me that hurt the most. my father was everything to me. and losing him the way i did shattered something i didn’t know how to rebuild—until recently. the truth is- i’m proud to be his daughter. but i’m also proud of the woman i’ve become, entirely on my own.

to those who’ve seen me when i couldn’t see myself—thank you. to the ones who stayed kind even when i stayed quiet—you mean more than you know.

and to the person who reminded me i’m allowed to be loved, messy and whole—i love you.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirl : YN just did an interview from her home with Lissie Mackintosh going into detail about her childhood and revealed that Ayrton Senna is in fact her father. She spoke about how her father’s tragic death left her emotionally shut her down for most of her life— and she chose silence as form of self protection. She led Lissie through a room in her house which held a large collection of her father’s helmets and trophy’s and she shared a few photos of them on her instagram today— which her new instagram handle is @/ynsenna. She also revealed in this interview that she is indeed dating Oscar Piastri. Oscar was behind the camera silently supporting her during the interview. Thoughts?

—

view 802,482 comments.

username0 : i’m crying real tears. she carried the weight of that legacy in complete silence. absolute warrior.

username14 : Oscar being behind the camera and just silently supporting her???? marriage. immediately.

username20 : now it all makes sense. the silence, the eyes that always looked a little sad. she’s been carrying so much. proud doesn’t even begin to cover it.

username15 : she didn’t win the championship for the world. she won it for her dad and for the little girl who lost her dad. i’m not okay.

username17 : everything about this interview was raw and honest. we don’t deserve her but god do we respect her.

username30 : the fact she said nothing for years and let people think the worst of her, just to protect herself?? she’s not cold. she’s human. and she deserves peace.

—

oscarpiastri

liked by ynsenna, maxverstappen1, lando & 10,273,005 others.

oscarpiastri : proud to know you. proud to love you. you are the strongest human i know. you made him proud, sweetheart.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

The interview with Lissie had gone live less than twelve hours ago. I’d barely blinked since then. I was curled up on my couch, hoodie three sizes too big, hair in a bun, face completely bare. Oscar sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, his back leaning against the couch between my legs. I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair while he scrolled through TikTok with the volume low. My phone buzzed every five seconds on the table, but I ignored it. Oscar didn’t ask questions. He just stayed. And he was quiet in that way that felt like peace.

The soft hum of city traffic below filled the silence until—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Someone was knocking on my door like it owed them money. Oscar and I both jolted.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked, twisting to look at me.

“No—wait. Shhh. Listen.”

BANG BANG BANG.

Then—“YN! OPEN UP! YOU OWE US A DAMN EXPLANATION!”

That voice. That unhinged tone.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. “Is that—Max?”

Oscar looked up at me. “Should I get the bat?”

I was still laughing as I padded to the door, the sound of voices growing louder.

“Carlos, stop pressing the buzzer, it’s annoying.”

“She’s probably ignoring us—”

“She probably moved to Brazil, bro.”

“Shut up, George.”

“YN, IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR I’M GETTING THE SPARE FROM CHRISTIAN!”

I opened the door. And immediately got hit with a wave of chaos. Max was at the front like the ringleader. Behind him stood Charles, Lando, Carlos, Pierre, Yuki, Lewis, George, and Alex, all staring at me like I’d just casually announced I was royalty.

“Hi,” I said blandly.

“‘Hi’?! That’s all we get?” George sputtered.

Max shouldered his way in first, eyes wide. “You—YOU—” He pointed at me. “Are Senna’s daughter and you didn’t tell anyone?!”

“I told Oscar,” I mumbled, leaning against the door frame.

“Yeah, okay, Oscar gets a free pass,” Lando said dramatically, waving a hand as he walked in. “Since he is the boyfriend.”

“I can’t believe you’re his,” Pierre said, mouth open as he stared around the apartment.

Yuki beelined for my kitchen. “Do you have snacks?”

Carlos gave me a look that was half stern, half soft. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Lewis stepped forward, eyes kind. “You didn’t have to. But… damn. That was powerful, YN.”

“Yeah,” Charles agreed, nodding slowly. “I cried, but that might’ve been the wine.”

The room was buzzing. Full of movement, questions, half-jokes, too much cologne, and disbelief so thick I could feel it crackling in the air like electricity. And yet, through it all, I just… Chuckled. I mean — this was my life now? Eight world-class athletes pacing my apartment like it was a race strategy debrief while Oscar, my boyfriend, my soulmate, looked like he wanted to protect me from the emotional onslaught with nothing but a throw pillow.

Max stared at me. “What’s funny?”

I smiled — wide and honest. “You guys are all losing your minds in my living room. Like I’m a unicorn or something.”

George raised a finger. “To be fair, you are. We just didn’t know it.”

Lando turned toward Oscar. “You knew. You absolute sneaky bastard.”

Oscar held up his hands, all innocence. “She told me. I didn’t say anything. Not even in the group chat.”

“I’m so proud of you, and also I hate you,” Pierre muttered, clapping Oscar’s shoulder.

And then — without warning — Max said, “Alright, that’s it. Everyone shut up.”

I blinked. “What—”

He lunged. Then Lando. Then Charles. Then George. Before I could even think to protest, I was being dragged into a ridiculous, suffocating, all-limbs, too-many-colognes, full team group hug. My face was squished between Max’s shoulder and Pierre’s head. Oscar laughed and wrapped his arms around all of us from the outside.

Someone yelled, “We’re proud of you!”

Someone else yelled, “She’s a Senna but she’s our YN!”

And I think it was Alex who shouted, “WE LOVE YOU, WORLD CHAMP!”

I couldn’t breathe. Not from the pressure of the hug — from the feeling of it all. Acceptance. Support. Love. After years of walls, of silence, of solitude, it all rushed in like the wave I didn’t know I’d been bracing for. And I let myself sink into it. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to carry the legacy alone anymore.

—

2K notes · View notes

desigal-26 · 2 months ago

Text

Everyone, this is my first Oscar Piastri post and my first SMAU post, so please treat me as fragile little baby 😂

Requests are open and well appreciated

Shy Cat Who?

Oscar Piastri x Actress!Reader

She was the controversial ex-WAG. He was the shy cat of McLaren. But together? They were the storm media hadn’t expected.

F1 75 Event was the most awaited event of the Formula One world. Drivers and new liveries sprinkled with a bit of glitz and glamour. But no one expected the cameras to catch a face no one thought would be seen in the F1 circles again.

Warnings: Max and Kelly slander (see, I love them both sooo much, but for the sake of the plot), fluff, internet hate towards reader, she is a famous actress and is part of Stranger Things and her character’s name is ‘Kat’ and knows archery, fluffy, use of ‘slur’ and ‘whore’ once. I guess that’s it.

The flashes of the paparazzi cameras came in rapid bursts—sharp and relentless, much like the corners of the track he was so familiar with. But unlike the adrenaline of a race, the weight of expectation tonight settled far heavier on his shoulders than ever before.

Oscar was the quiet one—the calm, reserved McLaren driver who rarely made headlines outside the track. In stark contrast, his teammate was loud, charming, and unapologetically extroverted—the kind of personality that drew fans and critics in equal measure. Lately, the latter group had grown louder, branding Lando a “playboy” for reasons Oscar never cared to dissect.

Drama had never been Oscar’s brand. He was the steady hand, the focused mind, the last person anyone would expect to stir the media into a frenzy.

So when he stepped onto the F1 75 event carpet with a well-known actress on his arm—someone with a turbulent history involving the current world champion—the world paused. For a split second, even the cameras hesitated. Then the chaos erupted: flashes exploded, questions flew, and voices rose in a desperate bid to make sense of the unexpected.

His hand rested gently on the small of her back, the silk of her white dress soft beneath his rough, calloused fingers. Subtle, comforting circles traced against her spine—his silent message to her that he was here, steady and unshaken. She looked poised, even radiant—she had likely faced this kind of attention more times than he had taken to the grid.

But he knew this wasn’t just another appearance for her.

Because they would be here.

Because the past had a way of resurfacing.

And because no one—not the media, not the fans, not even the critics—had expected her to return to this world after the scandal that shattered her once-golden image.

“Are you alright?”

Oscar blinked, dragging his gaze away from the blinding barrage of camera flashes. His smile softened as it landed on the woman beside him—her lips curved in quiet encouragement, her eyes glimmering with concern that reached deep into him, melting away the stiffness in his posture. His hand shifted from the small of her back to wrap securely around her waist, drawing her closer as he leaned down and whispered with a teasing lilt, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

She laughed—a full, uninhibited sound that echoed like music across the cold marble of the entrance. Her head tilted back, eyes crinkling at the corners, catching the lights of the flashing cameras and reflecting them like a million tiny stars. Oscar, the ever-composed Aussie driver, would usually be wary of such attention. In any other moment, he would’ve steered her quickly into the venue, avoiding the scrutiny. But here and now, watching her laugh so freely, he forgot everything but her.

The whispers of criticism waiting online, the haunting pieces of her past, the quiet insecurities that clung to him like shadows—all of it dissolved the instant she leaned into him, instinctively seeking his warmth as a cold gust teased at her hair. He welcomed the closeness, pressing a soft kiss to her temple in a gesture no camera could cheapen.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured, his arm loosening around her waist only to slip his hand into hers. Her fingers fit against his with practiced ease, the kind that comes only from months spent in secrecy—shared meals under dim lights, whispered conversations behind closed doors, fleeting touches exchanged like promises.

The world saw her now—the poise, the grace, the way she smiled up at him like he was the very air she breathed.

But only he had seen the broken pieces beneath.

Only he had held her through the nights she couldn’t sleep.

Only he knew the shape of the wounds left behind by the man who now stood at the pinnacle of the sport.

And tonight, for the first time, they were stepping into the light. Together.

Sinking into the plush mattress of the hotel room felt like heaven to Oscar. After hours beneath the hot glare of camera flashes and the overwhelming buzz of voices and attention, the stillness was a balm. He didn’t mind the fans—he loved them, truly—but this, the quiet, the dim light, the comforting weight of a smaller body curling instinctively into his side… this was where he felt most at home.

He looked down, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he took her in. She had showered too, her face now free of the makeup, glamour, and practiced poise that the world always demanded of her. In this room, she wasn’t the headline-grabbing actress or the woman people whispered about in scandal-heavy tones. She was just his. The woman he loved—not despite everything the world had said, but because of everything she was beneath it.

“What are you doing, baby?” he asked, brow slightly furrowed as he noticed her focused on her phone. It was rare. When they were together like this, their phones usually stayed untouched, traded for quiet conversations, kisses, and the rhythm of shared silence.

She hummed in response, glancing up at him with a mischievous grin. Without a word, she turned the phone toward him. Oscar matched her smile, but as his eyes scanned the screen, his expression shifted to one of surprise—quickly softened by amusement.

He raised a brow. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice low and curious, one hand moving to lazily twirl the ends of her hair—something he always found himself doing when she was near and he was at peace.

“I wouldn’t have come today if I wasn’t,” she replied, voice gentle, sure. Then, she leaned up and kissed the edge of his jaw—slow, grounding—before asking the same question back, eyes gleaming with something deeper than simple mischief.

Oscar chuckled, the sound warm in the quiet room, before flipping them over in one smooth motion. Her surprised squeal was followed by laughter, the kind that came from deep inside—the kind only she could coax out of him. She swatted at his shoulder in playful protest as he hovered over her, the shadows dancing across the contours of his face.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. She smiled into it, her breath mixing with his.

Reaching for her phone, he glanced at the screen again—her Instagram app open, a carefully chosen photo of them from the event tonight waiting to go live. His thumb hovered over the ‘post’ icon. For a second, he hesitated—not out of doubt, but reverence.

He looked back at her, wordless.

She met his gaze, her smile answering questions he hadn’t even asked.

And without another moment’s pause, he pressed ‘post.’

cookies.and.creammm just posted!

Liked by oscarpiastri, lando, mclaren, alexandrasaintmleux, and 36789 others

cookies.and.creammm that’s my man ✨

view all comments

oscarpiastri that’s my girl 💗

cookies.and.creammm 🤭

lando gross 🥴

cookies.and.creammm we are not talking about you lando 😇

carlossainz55 ROASTED

alexandrasaintmleux the pretty lady is back 😍

cookies.and.creammm only for you ✨🫶🏻

alexandrasaintmleux 🤭🫶🏻

charles_leclerc uhhh hello?

mclaren our best wag 💪🏻🧡

cookies.and.creammm you mean your only one?

lando I feel attacked 🥲

oscarpiastri you should

user leave our shy cat be!!!

oscarpiastri just posted!

Liked by cookies.and.creammm, lando, mclaren, logansargeant and 15987 others

oscarpiastri my pretty girl ✨

view all comments

cookies.and.creammm my fast driver 🎀

lando gross 🥴

oscarpiastri kindly shut up lando

lando what happened to my shy cat 🥺

cookies.and.creammm he is busy playing with his 🐱

oscarpiastri 😊

mclaren we do not meddle in our drivers’ conversation 🤐

logansargeant I heard lando gag from Florida

user that was a shut up call for everyone calling Oscar too shy

#f1 2025 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar x you #oscar x reader #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri social media au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #ex!max verstappen #actress!reader

2K notes · View notes

jungwnies · 4 months ago

Text

f1 grid (1/2) | sharing the cookie

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : your f1 boyfriend agrees to try the viral cookie challenge with your toddler… only to be hilariously betrayed (inspo: tiktok - click for reference)

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 1792

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this tiktok trend had me dying and then lawson and hadjar did it with their reserve driver im hollering T-T - also i am so so so sorry for missing my update for friday rip... but its okay ill be back on schedule fr (also the first part will now include lando and oscar because in part two i will be adding isack hadjar and liam lawson cus they were requested to be added and i just cant say no considering they are also on the grid >.<)

ʚ・max verstappen

"come on," you said, holding up the phone. "it's just a tiktok. she gets two cookies, you act like you didn’t get any, and we see if she shares.”

max crossed his arms. "she’s two. she doesn’t even share her toys with me."

"exactly," you grinned. "that’s why it’s funny."

he sighed dramatically. "fine. but if she betrays me, i’m eating both next time."

you set up the camera. max sat cross-legged on the living room floor, your daughter bouncing excitedly in front of him. you handed her two cookies. max? none.

"papa doesn’t get one?" she asked, blinking up at him.

max pouted like he was a contestant on survivor. "nope. they only gave you cookies."

she blinked again. looked at both cookies. looked at him.

and then.

she. ate. both.

BACK TO BACK.

max’s jaw dropped. "are you serious?!"

your daughter just licked the crumbs from her fingers and smiled. "yummy!"

you couldn’t stop laughing behind the camera.

max dramatically flopped back onto the carpet like he'd just lost a world championship.

"i gave her life. and she gave me nothing."

“she’s literally two,” you laughed.

"two ruthless," he corrected.

later that night, he snuck her another cookie while she sat in his lap, still chewing like she ran the place.

“you gonna share this one?” he asked hopefully.

she nodded, broke it in half… and gave both pieces to the dog.

max gasped. “this is targeted.”

you? filming from the corner, crying laughing.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

"just act like you don’t have any,” you whispered as you handed your daughter two cookies and lewis none.

he raised an eyebrow. "she always shares with me."

"alright then, let’s put that to the test," you grinned, hitting record.

lewis sat cross-legged on the rug, smiling softly at his daughter as she waddled over with a cookie in each tiny hand. she plopped down in front of him, cradling her cookies like they were ancient treasures.

“oh wow,” lewis said, peering at her plate. “they didn’t give me any…”

she blinked. then blinked again. the gears in her brain visibly turned.

and then—she took the biggest bite possible from one cookie, stared him down, and said through a full mouth, “that sucks.”

your hand flew to your mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. lewis sat there, stunned.

“did you just—”

she held up a tiny finger. “i need both. for balance.” (balance. you nearly dropped the phone.)

lewis tried not to laugh, but it cracked out of him anyway. “wow. that’s cold, little miss.”

“like you when i take your hoodie,” you chimed in from behind the camera.

“she’s my daughter alright,” lewis muttered, dramatically falling back into the pillows like he’d just been betrayed by his own bloodline. “i’m retiring from parenting,” lewis sighed.

ʚ・george russell

george was suspicious from the moment you handed him zero cookies.

“it’s a tiktok trend,” you whispered. “just pretend it’s normal. let’s see what he does.”

your son plopped down next to george, cradling his two little cookies like they were made of gold. he blinked at his dad. george gave him a soft smile and the most tragic sigh you’d ever heard.

“wow. i didn’t get one,” george said, all british melancholy. “guess i’ll just sit here… cookieless.”

his son looked at him.

then looked at the cookies.

then looked back at him.

and took a very slow bite, still holding eye contact.

george blinked. “right. okay. that’s… noted.”

he cleared his throat, visibly trying to stay composed. “are you sure you don’t want to share one with your dear father? the man who changes your nappies?”

another bite.

then your son tilted his head and said, “you can have one… if you say please.”

george’s jaw dropped. “are you—? i taught you that word!”

you had to cover your mouth to keep from snorting. george held his hand out, now looking genuinely betrayed.

“please,” he said slowly, dramatically. “may i have one cookie?”

your son stared at the remaining half of his cookie… and shoved it in his own mouth. then nodded. “you said please!”

george looked directly at the camera like he was on the office. “this is a test. i’m being tested.”

five minutes later, george was spotted making a second batch of cookies with your son sitting proudly on the counter beside him.

“because we believe in manners and equality in this household,” he muttered, flour on his shirt.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos sat on the rug as your daughter waddled in with two chocolate chip cookies and the world’s biggest smile. her curls bounced with every step, and carlos was already melting before the challenge even began.

“hola, princesa,” he cooed, arms out.

she plopped down next to him and immediately held both cookies to her chest.

“oh, you got two?” he asked, pretending to pout. “they didn’t give any to papa.”

your daughter paused.

she stared at the cookies.

then stared at him.

then without a single ounce of hesitation, she picked up the bigger cookie and gently placed it in carlos’ hand.

“here, papa,” she said sweetly. “you can have mine.”

carlos blinked. like, literally stunned into silence.

“you’re giving me this one?” he asked, glancing down at the cookie like it was made of diamonds. “but it’s the bigger one.”

she just nodded and leaned into his chest with the other cookie in her hand. “because i love you big.”

you gasped behind the camera.

carlos’s entire soul left his body. “ay dios mío. you’re going to make me cry on tiktok.”

he immediately scooped her into his lap and kissed her cheek a thousand times while she giggled into her cookie.

“te amo, mi corazón,” he whispered. “you’re the best part of my life.”

then he looked at the camera and pointed. “you owe her a bakery.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles was already sitting on the rug, legs crossed, smiling like he had no idea what was coming. (he did. you prepped him. but he was ready to be dramatic.)

when she walked over and sat down with her cookies, he gasped.

“they gave you two?!” he said, eyes wide. “and none for me?” he held his hands up like he was being robbed. “nothing? pas un seul?”

your daughter blinked, looked down at her plate… then back up at him. then she frowned.

“…that’s not fair,” she whispered, clearly distressed.

you could almost hear the little gears turning in her brain. she looked between the cookies like she was about to do intense mathematical calculations.

charles tilted his head, still acting sad. “it’s okay. you don’t have to share. i’ll just… starve.”

“papa,” she gasped. “no starving!” then — and this was the most leclerc moment — she picked up one cookie and broke it perfectly in half like it was a fine art.

she handed him one full cookie… and then added half of the other one.

“there,” she said seriously. “now you have un et demi.”

charles looked at the cookie halves in his hands like he’d just been gifted the crown jewels.

“you gave me more than one?” he asked, visibly moved. “are you sure?”

she nodded proudly. “because i’m smart.”

you nearly dropped the phone from trying not to wheeze.

charles pulled her into his lap and kissed the top of her head, murmuring, “you are so smart, mon amour. and kind. i will never forget this act of generosity.”

she grinned. “you owe me a cookie later.”

charles blinked. “…fair.”

ʚ・lando norris

“this is going to be so easy,” lando whispered as you handed his child two cookies and him none.

you raised a brow. “confident.”

he flashed you a grin. “they’re obsessed with me. i’m definitely getting one.”

you pressed record.

lando sat down on the floor, stretching his legs out, watching as your toddler toddled over like they were on a very serious cookie delivery mission. two chocolate chip cookies, one in each fist. determined eyes. crumbs already forming and not a bite had been taken.

“those look so good,” lando said, dramatically clutching his chest. “but… they didn’t give me any. that’s a bit sad, huh?”

your child blinked at him. looked at the cookies. then back at him.

then smiled.

“oh, dada,” they said sweetly, holding up one cookie… only to immediately lick it and take the tiniest nibble ever.

lando stared. “did you just—?”

they held out the now-slightly-soggy cookie. “you can have this one.” big proud grin.

lando, who would’ve accepted literal dirt from this kid, took it with wide eyes. “wow… thank you… so much.”

then, as he brought it to his mouth, they shrieked:

“WAIT! NOT THAT ONE! THAT WAS MINE!”

they snatched it back. both cookies now secured.

lando looked into the camera like he was betrayed by his own flesh and blood. “what just happened to me?”

you nearly dropped the phone from laughing. “you got hustled by a toddler.”

“she literally baited me,” he muttered. “i respect it.”

later, he brought out a secret third cookie from the kitchen.

your toddler gasped. “dada! where’d you get that?!”

he winked. “the real cookie challenge is knowing where we hide the backups.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

“i really don’t think they’ll give me one,” oscar whispered as you handed your toddler two cookies and him none.

you raised an eyebrow. “why?”

he shrugged. “they like sharing with you more. they say i’m too quiet.”

you stifled a laugh and hit record.

oscar sat down on the rug, legs folded neatly, as your toddler waddled over proudly — one cookie in each chubby hand, already taking careful little bites out of the edges.

“oh,” oscar said softly. “they gave you two cookies?”

his kid blinked, wide-eyed. “yeah!”

oscar smiled. “wow. i didn’t get any…”

there was a beat of silence. your toddler looked at their cookies. then at oscar.

then back at the cookies.

then very slowly, they scooted closer, placed one cookie in his lap… and gently patted his knee.

“you can have this one. because i love you and i don’t want you to feel sad.”

oscar literally froze. like system shut down. the only movement was the slow widening of his eyes.

“wait,” he whispered, “are you trying to make me cry?”

your toddler beamed. “don’t cry! eat!”

you had to hide behind the kitchen counter to keep from audibly sobbing.

oscar looked straight at the camera, voice half-choked. “i wasn’t emotionally prepared for this challenge.”

he reached over, pulled them gently into his lap, and kissed the top of their head. “you’re too good for this world.”

later, you found the uneaten cookie in the fridge with a note (scribbled by oscar) taped to it:

“for my favourite teammate.”

2K notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 2 months ago

Text

Netflix Suffers

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: Netflix suffers through quietly private Oscar for 2 and a half whole seasons of Drive to Survive.

Notes: Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

FEBRUARY 2022

🗂️ FILE: Netflix DTS SEASON 5 - Notes

SUBJECT: Oscar Piastri

AUTHOR: Emily Kingsley (Producer)

New talent, F2&F3 champ, Alpine reserve – strong potential for screen time once on the grid. Quiet but smart. Needs camera time to build profile. Likely to debut in 2023.

Approach for low-key content – i.e., “day in the life” while in reserve role. Ideal filming locations: Enstone, coffee shop, sim work, etc. (NO home shoot yet, build trust first.)

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: [CONFIDENTIAL] Driver Profiles – Oscar Piastri

We should absolutely start tracking Oscar Piastri content.

Even if he’s just the reserve driver this year, the hype around him is ridiculous. Also, Alpine won’t stop talking about “the future.” He’s calm on camera, photogenic, and his stats in F2 were insane. I don’t think he has the ‘media darling’ vibe yet, but maybe that’s the charm?

(Also, if he ever opens up, I think we’ll find something really good there.)

***

MARCH 2022

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Oscar — Filming Availability?

Hi Mark,

Hope you’re well — I wanted to reach out regarding some potential filming time with Oscar in the next few weeks. We’re spotlighting the Alpine Academy as part of a talent pipeline feature for Drive to Survive, and Oscar’s obviously central to that.

We’d love to do something a little more personal, maybe in Australia if he’s home during the race weekend? Just informal stuff — walks along the coast, cooking dinner, time with the family.

Would he be open?

Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Oscar — Filming Availability?

Hey Emily,

Appreciate the ask. Just a heads up: Oscar’s not big on the personal angle. He’ll do talking heads, training shots, maybe some light garage footage, but filming in Aus is a no.

He won’t budge on that.

Cheers, Mark

***

APRIL 2022

🗂️ FILE: Netflix DTS SEASON 5 - Notes

SUBJECT: Oscar Piastri

AUTHOR: Emily Kingsley (Producer)

Piastri’s still cagey. Got him for like 10 seconds in the Alpine motorhome. Media-trained within an inch of his life. Never says more than necessary. No mention of family, background, anything. I swear he arrives and vanishes like a ghost.

***

MAY 2022

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Filming Opportunity

Hey Mark,

Quick question—do you think Oscar would be open to a short sit-down segment before the summer break? Just a few minutes of reflection on the reserve role, how he’s prepping for the future. We wouldn’t push anything personal.

Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Alpine Segment

Hi Emily, Oscar appreciates the ask but he’s going to pass. Head down for now.

He’s not the “talk it out on camera” type.

Cheers, Mark

***

AUGUST 2022

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: What

Update: Alpine just announced Oscar Piastri as their 2023 driver.

Two hours later… Oscar publicly denied it.

We’re pivoting this entire storyline.

Please prep:

New B-roll

Emergency reaction interviews

A very patient attitude

God help us.

— Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: URGENT: Oscar Piastri Content Opportunity

Hi Mark,

We’re obviously across the Alpine press release and Oscar’s... shall we say... firm rebuttal. I know it’s a delicate situation (understatement), but from a Drive to Survive perspective, this is GOLD.

Would Oscar be willing to do a sit-down? Nothing invasive, just some general footage — his perspective on the announcement, what he can and can’t say, maybe a voiceover? We could shoot it neutral — no team gear, simple setting, even his flat or somewhere casual?

Fans are already going wild. This is the biggest off-track story since Ricciardo to Renault. We don’t need the dirt — just a moment of “this is what it felt like from my side.”

Timing-wise, we’d want to film this week. Please let me know.

All best, Emily ***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: URGENT: Oscar Piastri Content Opportunity

Hi Emily,

Thanks for reaching out.

Understand where you’re coming from — and yeah, it’s certainly been a lively 48 hours.

That said: Oscar’s not going to film anything right now. He’s focusing on keeping his head down and letting the CRB process play out. Legal is involved, as I’m sure you can imagine.

Also, he's not keen on filming at home. Ever.

Will keep you posted if anything changes, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.

Best, Mark

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Quick Touch Base – Re: Statement Footage

Hi Oscar,

Just wanted to reach out personally and say we’re all very impressed by how gracefully you’re handling everything — not an easy situation.

If you’re open to it, we’d love to get a short piece to camera — even something as simple as your thoughts on what it’s been like these past few days. We can keep it high-level. No legal landmines, I promise.

Totally understand if now’s not the time. Just thought I’d ask directly.

Hope you’re well, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: Quick Touch Base – Re: Statement Footage

Hi Emily,

Thanks for the kind words.

I’d prefer not to be filmed right now. Nothing personal — just trying to keep things quiet while everything gets sorted.

Appreciate you checking in though.

Best, Oscar

***

INTERNAL NETFLIX SLACK THREAD: #DTS-production

Emily: Okay, so… Oscar very politely said no. Again. Mark also said no. I swear, they are a unified front of chill, lawyered-up silence. Which, okay, fine — but this is the most dramatic moment in F1 driver contract history and we’re filming damn car factories.

Emily: Also, quote of the week from Mark:“He’s not keen on filming at home. Ever.” What does he do at home? Stare at walls? Garden in secret? Marinate in contractual ambiguity?

Jason: I don’t think he even has a home. He might just unplug at the back of the simulator when no one’s looking.

Laura: Honestly, I’d believe that.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Oscar Piastri Situation – Emergency Pivot #2

Oscar has signed with McLaren. Alpine is pissed. The internet is on fire.

We absolutely need to feature this in the next season. Please prepare:

Voiceover drafts for "F1’s biggest contract twist"

New graphics

Backup plans for literally everything

He’s still refusing to be filmed outside of team facilities. I asked for a reaction clip — he said “no comment”.

This is going to be painful.

— E.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Okay, but hear me out

Hi Oscar, Totally respect your privacy—promise! But with everything happening, the contract, the Alpine/McLaren tug-of-war—this could be a defining story moment. Even just five minutes of your thoughts would mean so much.

We can do it on neutral ground. In a field. A parking lot. A hallway. You don’t even have to sit.

Please? Best, Emily

***

[NO REPLY]

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Filming Opportunity

I don’t even know which team to email anymore.

Alpine says he’s theirs.

Oscar says “no.”

I asked for an interview — even off-record. He said “not until everything is settled.” And he meant it.

At this point I’m tempted to just film Mark’s facial expressions and stitch a narrative together from that.

Oscar is cool as a cucumber and somehow still tells me nothing.

***

SEPTEMBER 2022

📱Text Message – Emily Kingsley -> Mark Webber

Emily: Hey — is Oscar open to a small sit-down to talk about his career path? Nothing contract specific.

Mark: He’ll do a brief neutral one, but no questions about Alpine or McLaren. And no “fun behind-the-scenes” stuff. Just racing.

***

DECEMBER 2022

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Oscar Piastri – Summary of 2022 Access

All personal/home/family requests denied.

No on-location filming allowed outside official team appearances.

Only gave us 2 usable soundbites and one very neutral post-contract interview.

Refuses to discuss “loyalty” or “betrayal” — insisted “it’s just contracts.”

Tried to bribe cameraman with coffee to stop filming.

Did not laugh at any of my jokes.

Conclusion: Oscar Piastri is the single most media-resistant driver we’ve ever had.

Future suggestion: If he ever lets us film at home, there’s either been a major personality change… or he’s hiding something.

(Honestly starting to bet on the second one.)

— Emily

***

FEBRUARY 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Sophie Ogg <[email protected]>

Subject: Oscar Piastri Filming Access (Clarification)

Hi! Just checking again on the possibility of doing a “rookie spotlight” feature with Oscar. Something simple: breakfast, drive to the track, post-race reflection? We can be as unobtrusive as needed.

Let me know what he’s comfortable with!

Thanks, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Sophie Ogg <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: Oscar Piastri Filming Access (Clarification)

Hi Emily,

Oscar is happy to participate in behind-the-scenes filming at the track, during media day, or at the McLaren Technology Centre (MTC). He’s not comfortable with at-home or family-based filming at this time.

We’ll loop you in when he’s scheduled for a sim session or debrief we can film.

Best, Sophie

***

🗂️ FILE: Netflix DTS SEASON 5 - Notes

SUBJECT: Oscar Piastri

AUTHOR: Emily Kingsley (Producer)Production Log – Episode Notes: Oscar Piastri Rookie Year (Draft)

All track footage cleared.

MTC sim session + papaya feature: ✅

Emotional arcs = ??

No family interviews, no at-home footage, no old footage allowed.

Oscar is friendly, professional, and zero drama.

***

MARCH 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: DTS Filming Requests – Oscar Piastri

Hi Oscar,

Thanks again for letting us tag along during media day in Bahrain. Really appreciated your patience with the cameras—and the boom mic guy stepping on your shoelace.

As discussed, we’d love to schedule a small sit-down interview for the Melbourne episode. Maybe something reflective, personal—“Coming Home” kind of vibe?

We’re thinking your old karting track, maybe your parents’ place if they’re comfortable?

Let me know what works!

Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Re: DTS Filming Requests – Oscar Piastri

Hi Emily,

Thanks for the email. Glad the crew got everything they needed.

Appreciate the idea—but I’d prefer not to film anything personal around Melbourne, if that’s okay. I’m happy to do more McLaren-based interviews, behind-the-scenes from the garage, prep footage, etc.

Thanks for understanding.

Best, Oscar

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Request Re: Australia GP Segment

Hi Mark,

We’d really love to get Oscar into a segment for the Melbourne GP this year — something personal, local, that grounds him a bit. Maybe a visit to his childhood kart track? A walk around his hometown? Even just some shots with family, if they’re comfortable? It’d add great context.

Best,

Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Request Re:Australia GP Segment

Hi Emily,

Appreciate the thought. It’s a no for the hometown and the family.

He’s not being difficult. He just values his privacy more than most.

Cheers, Mark

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: DTS Feature Ideas – Oscar Piastri

Hi Mark,

We would love to film some home content with Oscar while he's in Australia. Fans are eager for more of his personality and background, especially given how impressive his rookie season is shaping up to be.

Would he be open to filming in Melbourne with his family? Even just an afternoon BBQ or a sit-down with his parents? We can keep it light and casual.

Let me know! Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Re: DTS Feature Ideas – Oscar Piastri

Hey Emily,

Appreciate the enthusiasm, but that’s still going to be a no from Oscar.

He’s been clear since the beginning: no filming with family, and definitely not at his house.

You can try asking again, but between you and me? Won’t change his mind.

Cheers, Mark

***

📱Text Message – Emily Kingsley -> Oscar Piastri

Emily: Hey Oscar! Just wanted to check if you’ve reconsidered filming a short segment in Australia? A lot of the younger guys have had great feedback from showing a bit of their life at home.

Oscar: Appreciate the offer, but that’s a no from me.

Emily: Not even a beach walk? A café? A dog? You don’t even have to speak.

Oscar: Still no.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Oscar Piastri – Personal Storyline Attempts

Notes:

Reached out 3 times for Australia-based filming. All rejected.

Mark Webber confirms this is standard.

Oscar is exceedingly polite but very firm on privacy.

Refuses family involvement. Refuses filming at home. Declined filming with childhood photos or karting footage unless pre-approved.

No girlfriend, parents, or siblings allowed on screen.

“Keeps things boring on purpose” — per one of McLaren’s PR guys.

***

APRIL 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Rookie Coverage – Piastri

Team,

Oscar Piastri is officially the most confusing human being I’ve ever tried to film.

We are four races in. He’s:

Scored points.

Been praised by everyone from Lando Norris to freaking Fernando Alonso.

Referred to as “a robot with a perfect driving line” on Reddit.

And he still won’t film anything outside the paddock. Not even a coffee run. Not even a “walk-and-talk” through the McLaren motorhome.

He said — and I quote — “The racing should be the interesting part.”

I need an aspirin.

— Emily

***

MAY 2023

📱Text Message – Emily Kingsley -> Oscar Piastri

Emily: What about a day-in-the-life shoot? Just a few shots at your apartment, packing your helmet, chatting over coffee?

Oscar: I don’t drink coffee.

Emily: Tea?

Oscar: Still no.

Emily: A silent montage of you sitting on the couch?

Oscar: No thanks.

***

JUNE 2023

🗂️ FILE: Netflix DTS SEASON 5 - Notes

SUBJECT: Oscar Piastri

AUTHOR: Emily Kingsley (Producer)

Asked Oscar directly in the paddock. Said (verbatim): “I’m just here to race. I’m not really into the storytelling stuff.”

Said it politely. Somehow made me feel bad for asking.

He’s 22 and already gives media-trained veteran energy.

No public drama. No family content. No home content. Not even a cat. What is he hiding?

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Mid-Season Filming Plans – DTS

Hi Oscar,

Just circling back on upcoming storylines—we’d love to get a personal angle in the Silverstone episode. Maybe something about how the transition to McLaren has affected your day-to-day?

Let me know if there’s any setting or topic you would be comfortable with. Even something low-key, like lunch with friends or your sim setup at home.

Hope the triple-header isn’t wearing you down too much.

Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Mid-Season Filming Plans – DTS

Hi Emily,

Thanks again—really appreciate the thought and planning. I’m good with filming at McLaren, any sim stuff can be done there too. Just no home filming, please.

Best, Oscar

***

JULY 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Zak Brown <[email protected]>

Subject: Oscar Piastri - Filming Permission Request

Hi Zak,

We’re hoping to film some light content with Oscar off-track — nothing invasive, just lifestyle b-roll. Maybe a post-race decompress scene? It’s for his rookie arc.

He’s been polite, but firm: no house, no “at home,” no background info, no family questions. It’s like trying to film a hologram.

Would appreciate your support in encouraging him — he’s a huge part of this season.

Thanks, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Zak Brown <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Oscar Piastri - Filming Permission Request

Hey Emily,

Appreciate the hustle, but Oscar’s...let’s say “particular.” Doesn’t like cameras unless he’s in the car or on the grid.

We’ve all tried. Even Lando gave up.

Keep doing your best — and don’t take it personally. That kid keeps his world very locked down.

***

SEPTEMBER 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Rookie Year – Piastri Workaround

Still no home footage.

Still no family mentions.

Still no idea what this man does outside of racing and eating bananas.

BUT:

He said we can film a sit-down if it’s in a neutral hotel room, lasts no more than 12 minutes, and avoids questions about “loyalty,” “controversy,” or “anything that sounds like a TikTok thirst trap.”

He did blink when I asked about his support system, so... possible crack in the armor?

Still suspicious about why he’s so protective of home life. My bet: secret girlfriend.

Emily

***

📱Text Message – Emily Kingsley -> Oscar Piastri

Emily: Okay, totally off the record — is there a reason you’re so locked down about your personal life?

Oscar: Probably.

Emily: That’s not an answer.

Oscar: Still true.

Emily: Come on, even Lando lets us film his kitchen. Just one little peek into home life?

Oscar: There’s nothing interesting there.

Emily: I don’t believe you.

***

OCTOBER 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Oscar Piastri - Filming Permission Request

Mark.

I will buy you a very nice bottle of wine if you just tell me why Oscar is so secretive. Is he secretly a monk? Is there a bunker full of cats?

I’m not trying to pry. I just want to make good television.

Please.

Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Just Tell Me Why

Ha.

Emily, he’s not hiding scandal, if that’s what you’re worried about. He just keeps things close. Always has. Family, relationships, the whole deal.

You won’t get him to change his mind unless he decides to. Trust me.

Cheers

Mark

***

DECEMBER 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: End-of-Season Wrap – Oscar Piastri

Final access level:

Filmed: 2 interviews, 4 race weekends, 0 personal segments.

Declined: 12 off-track requests.

Quotes of the year: “I don’t think that’s relevant,” “Not today,” and “No thanks.”

Still no footage of:

His apartment

His family

Literally anything that tells us he’s a human being and not a polite race-bot

Final verdict: He’s hiding something. I just have no idea what. Yet.

— Emily

***

JANUARY 2024

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Piastri Segment – “Still Nothing” Update

Team,

We’re heading into Season 6 planning, and in case anyone had delusions of cracking Oscar Piastri this year, here’s a little refresher of how the last few weeks went:

Team McLaren OK’d filming around the garage, factory, even a simulator session.

Oscar OK’d a sit-down interview, as long as the topics were racing, racing, and also racing.

Oscar absolutely, categorically, politely said “no thank you” to anything involving:

His home

His background

His personal life

His off-track activities

Any “day in the life” filming

Every single “soft” question we attempted (ex. “What’s your go-to comfort food?” led to: “Whatever Bees likes—sorry, I mean—whatever I feel like.”)

He nearly had a stroke when someone asked if he had a pet.

We’re still in the dark. I don’t know what’s going on. But I know it’s not nothing.

— Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: DTS Season 6 – Early Shoot Availability Hi Oscar,

Hope you’re doing well and had a restful off-season! We’re lining up some early-season shoots with returning drivers and wanted to check if you’d be available for a quick segment in February.

Nothing invasive — just a casual piece on how you spent the break, training routines, and maybe a few reflections from home. Could be in Monaco, or if you’re back in Australia—

Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: Filming Opportunity

Hi Emily,

Thanks for reaching out. Appreciate the offer, but I’ll pass on the home segment.

Happy to do something at the track during pre-season testing though.

Regards, Oscar

***

FEBRUARY 2024

INTERNAL NETFLIX SLACK THREAD: #DTS-production

Emily: Oscar deflected a “What do you like to do in your free time?” with “Tidy the garage.”

Jason: That’s so serial killer coded.

Emily: He said he’s “too boring for Netflix.” With a straight face. I know he’s hiding something.

Owen: Secret girlfriend?

Laura: Or has a dog named after a politician. Or something. No one is this allergic to personal questions unless they’re deeply interesting.

***

MARCH 2024

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Drive to Survive – Post-Race Australia Segment?

Hi Oscar, Congrats on surviving the Melbourne media gauntlet.

We were wondering if you'd be open to filming a short post-race reflection scene in Australia. Could be something casual—coffee with a friend, walk around a local kart track, even something at home if you're comfortable. We’d love to highlight the “local kid comes home” angle.

Let us know. We're flexible on format and timing!

Best, Emily

***

📱Text Message – Oscar Piastri → Mark Webber

Oscar: Did you see Emily’s email? Again with the home filming ask.

Mark: You know the drill. Smile, say thanks, say no.

Oscar: Smiled. Said thanks. Said no.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Drive to Survive – Post-Race Australia Segment?

Hi Emily, Appreciate the note and the kind words.

I’d prefer to keep any filming this season within the McLaren environment or at-track settings. I’m not comfortable including personal locations or relationships in the show at this stage.

Thanks again for understanding.

Best, Oscar

***

INTERNAL NETFLIX SLACK THREAD: #DTS-production

Emily: Oscar Piastri is the politest stone wall I’ve ever met.

Owen: We got nothing personal from his Australia weekend?

Emily: He let us film one (1) shot of him walking into the paddock in the rain. Incredible cheekbones. Zero content.

Jason: I tried asking him about his life outside the sport and he hit me with a “I’m focused on the team and the car this season.” Man’s media-trained like a royal.

Emily: I swear he has an underground bunker where his personality lives.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Just Checking In Again

Hi Mark, I know I sound like a broken record, but we’d really love to get a bit more personal access with Oscar this season—maybe even just a sit-down interview off-track, something with a bit more narrative depth.

We’re not trying to push. But it feels like there’s a story we’re missing.

Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Just Checking In Again

Hey Emily, Appreciate the persistence. But as I said back in '22—if he hasn’t offered it, he won’t. Oscar keeps his circle tight and his cards closer. It’s not a slight. It’s just how he’s built.

Cheers, Mark

***

APRIL 2024

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Quick sanity check

Hi Mark, Sorry to bother you—just wanted to check if there’s any movement on Oscar maybe letting us do a more personal feature. Doesn’t even have to be Australia. A glimpse into his life off-track, maybe a cooking scene or something with friends?

We keep getting polite refusals, and I just want to make sure we’re not missing a scheduling window or an angle he would be comfortable with.

Appreciate the help. Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Quick sanity check

Hi Emily, You’re not missing anything. He’s just not going to do it.

Oscar’s private life is exactly that—private. Always has been. Always will be. Take it from me: if he hasn’t agreed by now, he’s not going to.

Cheers, Mark

P.S. Don’t take it personally.

***

INTERNAL NETFLIX SLACK THREAD: #DTS-production

Laura: I JUST SAW THE CLIP.

Emily: guys

Emily: GUYS

Emily: OSCAR IS MARRIED

Josh: huh?

Josh: LIKE ACTUALLY? was this announced?

Emily: YES. 10 MINUTES AGO. FAN STAGE. LIVE.

Emily: Lando had a SPIRITUAL CRISIS on stage

Josh: pls tell me we have the rights to that footage

Josh: pls

Naomi: I’m already scrubbing the audio

Naomi: it’s Oscar saying “10/10. would always marry her again.” while Lando combusts

Naomi: Oscar dropped a wife reveal like it was lap data

Emily: I HAVE SPENT TWO YEARS TRYING TO FILM THIS MAN’S HOME LIFE

Emily: HE SAID NO. EVERY TIME.

Emily: AND HE WAS MARRIED THE WHOLE TIME

Emily: MARRIED.

Emily: WITH A WHOLE ASS WIFE.

Laura: He said "at home. On the bed." That man is accidentally romantic. Is he okay?? Are we okay??

Tom: Compiling top fan tweets now. Lando screaming "YOU HAVE A WIFE?!" is our new episode cold open.

Owen: Also, is it true Nicole Piastri only found out after the wedding? Because that’s... incredible.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: URGENT: PIASTRI MARRIAGE REVEAL - DAMAGE CONTROL & CONTENT PITCH

Team,

Hi. I am going to scream into the sun.

Apparently, Oscar Piastri has been married since he was eighteen. He announced it casually at a live fan stage during a game of "Would You Rather."

I’m attaching the clip. Please note the moment where Lando nearly dies. That is not an exaggeration.

Key Details:

Oscar is married. Legally. Since age 18.

No one on our team knew. No one in the paddock seems to have known.

His wife is still unnamed. No photos. No social media. She’s basically an encrypted file.

Lando screamed “I’M YOUR FRIEND” and the internet is now in full nuclear meltdown.

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND. This is the best story we never got. Five seasons of silence and he was SITTING ON A SECRET WIFE.

We had NO IDEA.

Immediate action items:

Get the footage — we need every angle of this meltdown. Lando spitting out his drink is already trending.

Contact McLaren PR — and offer our eternal sympathy. Also ask if Oscar is open to filming with his wife. (I'm laughing. But also crying. But mostly laughing.)

New season pitch update — working title: "The Mysterious Mrs. Piastri"

Figure out what else he’s hiding — goats? underground bunker? A baby??

I will personally be contacting Oscar. I have already made peace with the fact that he will say "no."

Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: James Landon (Post-Production)<[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Oscar Segment - Recut Suggestions

Can we go back through the Season 5 footage and check for:

Any signs of a ring

Vague mentions of "someone"

Literally ANY CLUE

We might have to go full "true crime" voiceover: "The clues were there all along..."

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Legal <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Request for Contact - Mrs. Piastri

We will need:

Name

Signed release form

Any footage/photos if she's ever appeared accidentally

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Can We Get Her On Camera?

Mark,

Any shot Oscar’s wife would be willing to do a sit-down? Even just audio? Silhouette? Shadow puppet reenactment?

Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Can We Get Her On Camera?

Emily,

Felicity Piastri is as scary with power tools as she is with spreadsheets.

Your odds are low.

But hey, miracles happen.

Mark

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Hannah Gray <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Emergency Title Brainstorm - Oscar Episode

Options so far:

"The Mysterious Mrs. Piastri"

"The Quiet One"

"Marriage? I Hardly Knew Him!"

"Oscar and the Secret Life"

"How To Hide A Wife"

Open to pitches. (Also therapy.)

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Sophie Ogg <[email protected]> , Zak Brown <[email protected]>, Andrea Stella <[email protected]>,

Subject: Netflix Inquiry — Episode Rights: Oscar Piastri Reveal

Hi Sophie, Zak, Andrea —

Hope you’re surviving the media spike after the fan stage.

We’d love to coordinate on messaging around Oscar’s marriage announcement. It seems to have caught the internet (and... Lando) by surprise, and obviously we'd like to be sensitive but thorough in our approach moving forward.

Can we please set up a time tomorrow to discuss:

Whether you’ve worked with Oscar’s wife in any media/brand capacities

Any upcoming content opportunities that include her

Name/pronunciation/bio for our internal briefings

Preferred narrative tone from McLaren’s side

Thanks in advance, Emily ***

📩 EMAIL

From: Sophie Ogg <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]> , Zak Brown <[email protected]>, Andrea Stella <[email protected]>,

Subject: Netflix Inquiry — Episode Rights: Oscar Piastri Reveal

Hi Emily,

Thanks for reaching out.

To be entirely transparent with you… We didn’t know either.

Zak may have been aware, but the wider team (including PR) was very much in the same position as Lando: confused, betrayed, and on the verge of cardiac arrest.

We don’t have a name, a bio, or a backstory. We don’t even have a wedding date. There is apparently a whole wife who has been around for years. Since Oscar was in high school. We are still... adjusting.

So at this stage, we unfortunately can’t provide any of the materials you're requesting. We also do not currently have any brand involvement or photo access.

As of now, we have no official statement prepared. PR is regrouping. I cried.

Please give us a moment to breathe.

We’ll reach out to Oscar once he’s finished his debrief (and Lando stops yelling), and update you as soon as we can.

Best, Sophie ***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Just Following Up (About The Whole Secret Marriage Thing)

Hi Oscar,

I hope you’re well and had time to breathe after what was… arguably the most internet-breaking moment of the entire season.

To be direct: First, congratulations. Second, WHAT THE HELL. Third, would you be open to a quick follow-up filming session or even a private sit-down interview to elaborate a little more on today’s revelation? Just… anything, really.

It’s safe to say you’ve just ignited the most unexpected story arc of Drive to Survive Season 7, and we’d love to give it the justice it deserves. We can keep it tasteful. We can blur the wedding photos. We can film in shadows like a crime doc if you want.

Let me know your thoughts — or have your mystery wife get in touch if she wants to.

Warm regards (and mild panic), Emily

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: Filming Opportunity

Hi Emily,

Thanks for the congratulations. And sorry, I didn’t mean to cause… whatever that was.

To clarify:

Yes, I’ve been married since 2019.

No, we’re not filming anything at home.

No, we’re not filming my wife.

Happy to talk about racing, contracts, simulator work, car setup, or tire degradation. Private life is private, as always.

Best, Oscar

#formula 1 #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #Oscar Piastri fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #op81 fic #op81 imagine

1K notes · View notes

jennwritesf1 · 4 months ago

Text

there’s orange juice in the kitchen - pt 1 (f1 drivers)

summary : you ask the drivers to peel an orange for you (or the orange peel theroy)

disclaimers : second pov (you/your), gn!reader, use of pet names

included : alex albon, charles leclerc, isack hadjar, kimi antonelli, liam lawson, oliver bearman, oscar piastri, yuki tsunoda

a/n : first full-grid blurb, lmk what you think and if you’d like to see more! pt. 2 will contain f2, reserve, and indycar drivers. I can also add drivers so if you want to see someone not listed lmk! <3

yes this is reposted, switching accts around

alex albon

“Hey Alex,” you shouted from your shared kitchen, whilst setting your phone up against the far counter. You made sure it was recording, then grabbed an orange and waited. A few moments later your boyfriend came into the kitchen, eyes glued to his phone.

“Yeah?” he asked, shutting his phone off and setting it on the counter as he shifted his attention to you. A smirk spread across his lips once he saw the round fruit in your hand, and before you could even ask he was saying, “let me guess, you want me to peel the orange for you?”

You paused, eyes squinted as you slowly nodded your head, holding the orange out. He took it and began to peel it, glancing up at you every few seconds and quietly chuckling. “You’ve seen this trend haven’t you?” you asked after a moment, a playful sigh leaving your lips as he nodded.

“You’re so chronically online it’s scary.”

charles leclerc

You had seen a trend circling around tiktok of people asking their partners to peel an orange for them; the orange peel theory. After seeing a few of your close friends posting their own videos, most of which were ridiculously funny, you decided to also hop on the bandwagon.

You discretely set your phone up in yours and Charles shared living space, then quickly grabbed an orange from the kitchen. When you re-entered the living area, you saw Charles sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. You sat down next to him and held the orange out to him.

“Could you peel this for me?” you asked, a smile threatening to break out. He set his phone down and reached for the orange, a pleasant smile on his lips.

“Of course, cherie,” he said as he began to pull the peel back. You sat there, a little taken back, as he peeled away in silence. You had expected some playful bickering, maybe confusion, as you’d seen in so many other videos, but you got none of that. Instead, Charles happily peeled the orange for you, even taking the time to pull off the little white strings. After he was finished he handed the now peeled orange back to you, a triumphant look on his face.

“Thanks,” you said, squinting your eyes skeptically. “Have you seen the trend?” you asked as you popped one of the slices in your mouth. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he shook his head. You then proceeded to explain the trend to him, showing him a few videos of your shared friends doing the trend as well.

“So did I pass?” he asked after a moment, to which you laughed at.

“Yes, you passed.”

isack hadjar

The orange peel theory had been going viral on social media, and the VCARB marketing team wanted to hop on the trend. So, while at preseason testing, they sent you and an orange Isacks way, filming the interaction from a distance.

Isack was sat outside the teams hospitality with a few of his engineers, going over data from his morning session. You felt a little bad interrupting them, but at least you could blame the marketing team. Isack offered you a sweet smile once he saw you approaching, pulling the chair out next to him, for you to take a seat.

Before you could ask, or even try to hand him the small orange, he had plucked it from your hands and began to peel it. You sat there, stunned, as he continued talking with his engineers, mindlessly peeling away. A few of his engineers gave him confused looks, looking between the two of you, but Isack paid them no mind.

He had the orange peeled in no time, then turned back to you with the sweetest look on his face as he handed it back. You chuckled as you took the orange, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Safe to say the clip went viral.

kimi antonelli

Your boyfriend was known to be a bit oblivious at times, so when you found the orange peel trend, you thought it would be funny to try it on Kimi. You set your phone up, then grabbed an orange from your kitchen and called for him.

“Kimi,” you said with a smile as he rounded the corner, “can you peel this for me?” you asked, holding out the orange. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking from you to the orange, and then back.

“What?” he asked, clearly confused. “Why can’t you peel it?” he asked, making no attempt at grabbing the fruit from your hand.

You chuckled, still holding out the orange. “Kimi it’s just an orange, can you please peel it?” you continued, watching his face become even more confused.

“Why? Have you done something to it?” He then asked, taking a step back as he inspected the orange. You began laughing much louder than before, watching as he began to look around your kitchen. He then spotted your phone set up against a vase. “Hey, why are you recording? What's wrong with the orange?”

At this point you were lost in a fit of laughter, Kimi laughing along with you nervously, still not fully convinced there wasn’t something wrong with the orange. You took a moment to compose yourself, explaining the trend to him, which he still didn’t fully understand, so you had to explain it yet again.

“Oh,” he said after you ahd finished explaining it for the second time. He paused, looking at you in silence, before his face suddenly light up in understanding. “Oh,” he said again, now seemingly understanding the trend.

“Wait, so can I still peel it?”

liam lawson

Redbull was known for their interesting social media videos, and you asking Liam to peel you an orange was just another idea put forth by the media team. You made your way to Liam, orange in hand, with the social media manager following behind you, recording.

“Hey babe,” you said as you approached him, handing him the orange, “can you peel this for me?”

He looked between you, the orange, and the camera off to the side. “You want me to peel this for you?” he asked to clarify. You nodded your head, trying to keep a straight face as his eyebrows furrowed. “Why?” he asked with a confused laugh.

“Because I asked you to?” you retorted, catching the disapproving look he gave you.

“It’s just an orange, you can peel an orange,” Liam said, trying to hand the orange back, but you simply pushed his hand back.

“Exactly, it’s just an orange,” you said with a smile, “so peel it.” He gave you a suspicious look, but began to peel the orange with an exaggerated sigh. Every few seconds he would give both you and the media manager a side eye, waiting for either of you to tell him they got the video and that was enough. But neither of you ever did, you just waited for an entire minute as he struggled to peel the orange.

He finally got the last bit of peel off, and began pulling the slices apart. He looked up to you, a triumphant smile on his lips, before popping a slice of the orange in his mouth, and then another.

Your jaw dropped, a laugh of disbelief leaving your throat. “Liam Lawson, that orange was for me,” you scolded, but the smile on your face gave away any real anger. Liam smirked, shaking his head as he put another slice in his mouth.

“Then you should have peeled it.”

oliver bearman

You finished setting up your phone in the kitchen, hiding it behind a small vase of flowers Ollie had gotten you the other day. You then grabbed an orange from the bowl on the counter, and called Ollie into the room.

“Hey Ollie, can you peel this for me?” you asked, handing him the orange.

“Yeah,” Ollie respondded, taking the orange from your hand to begin peeling it. At first you thought it was going to be a cute video of Ollie peeling the orange for you, no questions asked, but you were wrong. You watched as he struggled for about thirty seconds to even start the peel, and then every time he went to pull back the peel it just broke off.

He pulled the orange closer to his face, trying to work out how to efficiently peel it. You thought for sure by the huffs of frustration he would have given up, but you guys were nearly three minutes into what should have been a minute long video at most, and the orange was still only half peeled.

“Your adorable, but let me do it,” you said after a moment, grabbing the fruit from his hands and effortlessly peeling the rest of it.

“Hey, I almost had it,” he said with a slightly embarrassed laugh, causing you to laugh as well.

“Yeah, I should have been able to eat it by tomorrow.”

oscar piastri

It was the second day of testing, and Lando had sent you a tiktok of someone asking their partner to peel an orange for them, begging you to ask Oscar and let him record it. So, as the lunch break came around, you located an orange and made your way to the McLaren hospitality.

Lando caught your eyes before Oscar had, and you held up the orange slightly to show him. An excited smile spread across his face as he whipped out his phone, trying to record his teammate sat across from him without being too obvious.

“Mind if I join you?” You asked as you approached, placing a hand on Oscars shoulder as you moved behind him to take a seat besides him.

“Never,” Oscar said with a small smile, watching as you sat down. You sat there for a moment, fidgeting with the orange before turning to Oscar again.

“Could you peel this for me?” You asked, and not a second later Oscar had taken the orange from your hands and began to silently peeled. You and Lando looked between eachother, sharing a confused look. You were both positive Oscar would have said no, not wanting to get his hands sticky with orange juice before having to get in the car.

“I’ve seen the trend,” Oscar said after a moment, taking his time to peel the skin back, then also pull off all the little strings. “But I would peel an orange for you even if I hadn’t,” he added, pausing a moment to meet your eyes.

“Oh, and you’re not as discrete as you think you are Lando,” he added, shaking his head at his teammate who was rather obviously filming the interaction. “I know you’re recording.”

yuki tsunoda

A trend circling tiktok had been popping up on your page for the past few days, and you decided it would be a funny video to try with your boyfriend, Yuki. So, you grabbed an orange and set up your phone in the living area, waiting for him to come and join you.

Shortly he made his way into the room, sitting down next to you. You didn’t give him a chance to even say hello before you were shoving the orange in his hands, a playful smile on your face.

“Peel this for me?” You asked, watching as he took the orange, but gave you a skeptical look.

“What? You can’t peel it yourself?” He asked, but began peeling the orange anyways. “Are you that incapable? It’s just an orange,” he continued, an amused smile on his face as he peeled away.

You lightly shoved his shoulder, jaw dropped in mock disbelief at the insults. “Yuki, I just asked you to peel an orange,” you said with a playful laugh.

“I mean, I knew you were dependant on me,” he continued on, a smirk plastered across his lips, “but this is a whole new level.” He finished peeling the orange, stealing a slice for himself, before handing it back to you.

“I’m never asking you to do something for me again,” you said with a laugh.

masterlist | requests are open | pt. 2 incoming

1K notes · View notes

theonottsbxtch · 2 months ago

Text

MISSION PISS OFF YOUR BROTHER | LN4

an: this was also a 2k celly thing i forgot to write/post i apolgise. enjoy a crack fic lol

wc: 585

request: can I please get a crack fic of lando and piastri!reader getting caught (I’m tryna thing of something outlandish here) stealing Oscar’s helmets or even something as petty as his water bottle just for fun and to get a reaction out of him 😭😭 and then obviously returning them lol

It started, as most stupid ideas did, in the McLaren motorhome kitchen at approximately half past bored.

Lando was leaning against the counter, sipping a sweet iced coffee he didn’t even like, and she was sitting on the worktop like she owned the place, legs swinging, staring into the fridge with the kind of intensity usually reserved for pit strategies.

"Do you reckon he’d notice?” she asked, head tilting. “If his bottle's missing?"

Lando raised an eyebrow. "Oscar?"

She gave a solemn nod. “He’s got that one he always uses. The white one. Bit scratched at the bottom. If I took it, he’d spiral.”

There was a pause, long enough to pretend they were considering not doing it, and then Lando grinned. “What if we take it... and leave clues. Like a ransom.”

She gasped, eyes lighting up. “With photos. Mysterious locations. Emotional manipulation.”

“You’re sick,” he said, admiringly. “Let’s do it.”

The first disappearance went unnoticed.

They’d expected a full investigation, maybe even a team-wide email. Instead, Oscar simply grabbed a different bottle and carried on like an emotionally stable person. Rude.

So they escalated.

Next to go: the helmet. Not his main one, obviously, they weren’t lunatics. But one of the perfectly-polished, display-only helmets that sat proudly in his driver’s room like a shrine to aerodynamic symmetry.

She stuffed it into a McLaren tote bag. Lando filmed it. He provided the soundtrack, mission: impossible theme hummed very badly.

They left a note behind. If you ever want to see your lid again, bring three oat biscuits and an honest compliment to Bay 3. No funny business.

By the time Oscar walked in and discovered it missing, Lando and she were hiding behind a storage crate nearby, watching on the CCTV screen above their heads like two deeply unserious goblins.

He stared at the note.

He blinked.

Then, slowly, he turned and said, “Are you two, are you actually mental?”

Lando almost gave them away by snorting.

Oscar didn’t follow the instructions, of course. He didn’t negotiate with helmet terrorists. So, naturally, they upped the ante again.

Helmet selfies began to appear around the garage. One of her wearing it while dramatically holding a banana like a gun. One of Lando pretending to cry while holding a sign: "He just wanted to race :("

They even Photoshopped one of the helmet in a bubble bath. It was disturbing. Artistic, but disturbing.

Oscar's eye twitched when he saw it.

"Right. I'm done." He stood up mid-lunch and declared, “I want my bloody helmet back. I don’t care if I have to call Zak.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Lando said, emerging from behind a curtain with the most guilty face imaginable.

Oscar pointed at him like he was summoning thunder. “Try me.”

Eventually, they returned everything.

The helmet was pristine. The water bottle had only a little glitter in it. Barely noticeable.

“Why do I let you in my life?” Oscar muttered as he inspected his things like they might be booby-trapped.

She beamed at him. “Because I’m family, and Lando’s too fast to catch.”

“That’s not even.” He stopped, looked at the bottle again. “Is this… lavender-scented?”

She shrugged. “Therapeutic.”

Oscar sighed the long, pained sigh of someone who realised this was his reality now.

Lando, who had somehow managed to stick googly eyes on the side of Oscar’s helmet mid-conversation, high-fived her behind his back.

It was, they decided, a mission well executed.

As Oscar has still not found the banana photo taped inside his locker.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @dragonfly047 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @sluttyharry30 @n0vazsq @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @iimplicitt @geauxharry @hzstry @oikarma @chilling-seavey@the-holy-trinity-l @idc4987 @rayaskoalaland @elieanana@bookishnerd1132@mercurymaxine@obxstiles @dongyeonssimp @gr4cier4cie

842 notes · View notes

plutoslastwords · 6 months ago

Note

I love ur baby Norris fic smmmm

Can you do one where she gets hurt or smth and Oscar is there to help her and he is the only one she wants to look after her xx

bring your kid to work day (gone wrong)

lando norris x daughter!reader, oscar piastri x norris!daughter!reader

summary: baby norris has an accident when visiting the mtc, who will she listen to? not her dad!

warnings: slight description of a broken wrist

w/c: 1.9k

a/n: ahh tysm for requesting! i hope you like it 😁 thank you everyone for so much love on lost and found <3 keep the requests coming!

~~~

Unfortunately, children were not technically allowed at the Mclaren Technology Centre. To make matters worse, the only random uni student Lando had found willing to look after his daughter for 8 hours for the next few days had cancelled. It didn’t help that Max F, Lando’s only friend currently living in London, was in Brazil either.

Therefore, Lando had no choice but to take you to the MTC with him, making special arrangements with Zak and Andrea that you’d be on your best behaviour, you were an angel! (Most of the time..)

That brings us to now, you are strapped in the backseat of Lando’s car, in your booster seat, as he drives to the MTC, babbling excitedly about what you’re going to do today.

“Gonna see Osc, Daddy!” you squeal, evidencing your adoration for the Aussie driver, who for some reason you’ve been completely attached to since the moment he joined the team. It's quite strange if you think about it, the quiet, reserved Australian and the hyperactive, excitable 3 year old, but he too is very fond of you.

“Yeah, baby, you gonna give him a big hug?” Lando coos at your excitement, he finds it endearing how much you love Oscar, and it also gives him an excuse to put babysitting duties onto his teammate.

You nod rapidly in response to his question, then completely forgetting about Oscar and going on to chatter about something that had happened at nursery a couple days prior.

Soon enough, Lando pulls his car into the MTC’s carpack, jumping out and coming round to unbuckle you and haul you into his arms, giving you a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You gonna be Daddy’s good girl, angel?” He asks as he walks into the building, bouncing you gently in his arms.

“Yes daddy!” You cheer in excitement, you were ecstatic to be able to visit your daddy’s work, your tiny face plastered with a massive grin.

“My best girl..” He murmurs as he greets some people with a small nod, making a beeline for his office, where you’ll stay whilst he works. He plops you down on the sofa that he has, grabbing your iPad from his bag and putting on a movie for you to watch.

“Okay baby, Daddy’s just going to go to a meeting, I won’t be long, if you need anything then Zak’s office is just next door, I love you my darling.” Too engrossed in your movie to speak, you simply nod and wave at him as he leaves.

In normal circumstances, Lando would never leave you completely by yourself for an extended period of time, but these were dire circumstances and he trusted that he knew enough people at Mclaren who would look out for you if you decided to pull an escaping act.

After about 20 minutes of watching your movie, you got bored, you had already seen this one before, and the songs weren’t as good when your daddy wasn’t singing them with you. You try to entertain yourself by playing some games that you have downloaded on your iPad, but even they did not give you the thrill and excitement that you need.

You remember in the car when your daddy said that Oscar was gonna be here today, but he hasn’t come to see you yet, a pout formed across your face at that realisation. Therefore, you climbed off the sofa, and decided to toddle around the MTC in search of the Australian driver.

With hindsight, Lando thinks that maybe he should’ve sent an email warning Mclaren employees that his daughter was going to make a guest appearance that day, because no one batted an eye as you wandered around the factory in search for Oscar.

You think you’re making progress, something in your 3 year old brain is telling you that Oscar is close, when you trip on your own feet, hurtling down to the floor right onto your wrist.

You let out a blood curdling screech, as pain shoots up your tiny wrist, immediately bursting into dramatic sobs, wailing as you sit on the floor clutching your arm.

Luckily, you must have been blessed with the gift of prophecy, because as it so happens, Oscar was around this part of the building for his lunch break, stopping in his tracks when he heard your scream. Lando had said something about bringing you in this week… he thought, as he beelined to the source of the cries.

“Oh bug, what’s happened here!?” He exclaims worriedly, scooping you up into his arms as you continue to sob. You don’t make any coherent response, possibly something about your ‘wist’, but Oscar knows that you’re in pain and that is enough for him.

“Okay baby, I’m gonna get you to your daddy, okay?” He tries to put on his best soothing voice, but in reality he is slightly panicking as he holds his teammate's daughter in a bundle in his arms whilst she cries her eyes out.

You shake your head furiously at that, hot tears still rolling down your little face, “Don’t want daddy!!” You screech, your daddy had left you! You just wanted Oscar.

Oscar doesn’t really know what to do, and your screams will soon start to attract attention, so he can’t just be standing in the middle of the hallway doing nothing. He brushes his free hand over the top of your head, trying to calm you down with a soothing motion as he coos soft words at you, “Shh, baby, ‘M not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, breathe sweetheart…”

He decides his best bet is to first bring you back to his office, and calling Lando from there, he knows he’s got some ice in there that he can put on your small wrist, which is quickly swelling and turning a purplish colour, which he decides is probably not a good sign.

Still whispering sweet words to you, he takes your sobbing form to his office, gently sitting you on his own couch and putting some ice on your wrist, cooing soothing words as you complain about the cold.

He then grabs his phone, quickly dialing Lando’s number. “Hey mate, you think you could come to my office, gotta slight problem here…”

Ever the protective dad, Lando immediately picks up on your wails from the other end of the line, “What the fuck is going on?!? I- I’m on my way.” He hangs up before Oscar can explain that no, he has not intentionally harmed his daughter.

In a matter of seconds, much quicker than his usual pace, Oscar notes, Lando is in his office, kneeling at your side. “Angel, what happened? Tell daddy what happened, where does it hurt?” He shoots questions at you.

You just shake your head at him, reaching your good arm for Oscar.

Oscar stands there awkwardly, stuck between his teammate’s betrayed expression and your sweet, sad, big, adorable eyes… he gives in, coming to sit next to you and pulling you into his lap.

“You gonna tell me and your daddy what happened, sweet girl?” He asks softly, smoothing your hair over.

Through hiccups and sobs you manage a few words “T-Tripped! Wrist is sore…” you sniffle, snuggling into Oscar’s lap.

“Your wrist, baby?” Lando asks, “Can you show daddy?”

You just hide your face in Oscar’s chest, shaking your head, and Lando just looks at Oscar slightly helplessly, his own daughter won’t even talk to him…

“You gotta show your daddy otherwise it won’t get better, sweetheart…” Oscar murmurs to you, feeling pity on Lando.

You sniffle but reluctantly pull out your wrist from where you’ve been hiding it from under the ice to show Lando, who has to suppress a gasp - for your sake - at how bad it really is. Oscar’s eyes widen also, as he exchanges a glance with Lando about what they are going to have to do.

Oscar, gently places his hands over your little ears, “You think you should take her to the hospital…? It looks broken…” Lando just nods grimly, the hospital was not his favourite place as a kid and since you’re practically his carbon copy he doesn’t think you’ll be a massive fan either.

“Angel, daddy’s gonna take you to the doctor’s, okay?” Lando says as soothingly as possible as Oscar releases your ears, “They’re gonna make it all better and then it won’t hurt anymore, I promise..”

You think about it for a moment, you’re not a massive fan of the idea, but your wrist is really sore, and if your daddy is saying that they’re gonna make it better…

“Oscar come.” You decide. Oscar releases a strangled noise of surprise from his throat, and Lando’s eyebrows raise slightly.

“You want Oscar to come..?” He asks, you just nod, your mind was made up and there was no altering your decision. “I- baby, Oscar is very busy, he probably doesn’t have the time to come to the doctors, but daddy will be there, okay?”

You glare at him.

“I- uhm, I don’t mind coming if it’s gonna make her happy..” Oscar interrupts the one sided glaring match that you’re having with your dad.

“Really? I don’t want to disrupt your day, mate, I mean she’s already taken enough of your time today…” Lando starts.

“No, no, I’m sure, I could use a break from work anyway.” You grin at that, like you had never even broken your wrist at all, as long as Oscar was coming with you to the doctors.

So that is how Lando and Oscar ended up at the local emergency room, Lando holding you tightly whilst you grumbled something about wanting to be with Oscar. Either the lady working the desk recognised them and was too starstruck to deny them a doctor, or she saw your grumpy face and decided she didn’t want a screaming child in the waiting room and immediately got you to see a doctor.

After an x-ray it was determined that yes, your wrist was broken, which broke Lando’s heart, his poor, sweet, girl…

Luckily, the break wasn’t that bad, and you were able to leave a couple hours later with a new, blue cast, as per your request. You had given up on your short lived resentment for your dad, and were snuggled up into his chest as Oscar drove you all back to the MTC. When you arrived, Lando spoke up;

“You gonna say thank you to Oscar for looking after you, darling?”

You wriggle out of his arms, running over to Oscar and wrapping your arms around his leg, “Thank you!” You giggle, the Doctor had given you a light dose of pain relief, so you were no longer screaming about your wrist.

“That’s okay sweetheart, you be careful, okay?” He cooed, you really were adorable.

“Thanks, mate” Lando smiled at Oscar, scooping you back up, ready to get you home. Oscar smiled back.

The way back was funnily quite similar to the way there, you talked Lando’s ear off the entire time about just how much you loved Oscar!

~~~

a/n: thank you for reading! send in any requests you have xx

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 daughter #lando norris daughter

1K notes · View notes

harrysfolklore · 1 year ago

Text

oscar piastri being obsessed with his girlfriend: a compilation

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | oscar smau

Oscar Piastri was known as the introvert and reserved driver on the grid.

While other drivers basked in the spotlight and didn't shy away from sharing details about their personal life, Oscar often preferred to keep his privacy.

However, when it came to his girlfriend, it was a different story altogether.

Oscar was what people called "a total simp" when it came to his girlfriend, always bringing her up in interviews, promo videos and casual conversations, and fans couldn't miss the opportunity to make several compilation videos and tiktoks about it.

The most popular one was called "Oscar Piastri being obsessed with his girlfriend: a compilation" and the 15-minute long video was filled with moments that made fans both awe and laugh.

It started with the clip of the first time he publicly talked about her during a podcast interview, rumors about him not being single were spreading around but nothing was confirmed.

"I do have a girlfriend, yeah," Oscar said, a small smile playing on his face.

"You're not very public, aren't you?" the interviewer asked.

“We keep it to ourselves and try to be out of the spotlight and just live normal lives,” he replied, “We have been dating for over four years now, she has been there for me since the start of my career and I couldn't imagine my life without her. She's my biggest supporter and keeps me grounded.”

The next video showed Oscar and Lando sitting next to each other wearing their McLaren shirts, filming a game called "Green flag or Red flag."

"Picky eaters," the interviewer asked and Lando immediately waved the green flag.

"He's a very picky eater that's why," Oscar said, making Lando laugh, "But, what if they eat fish, cause you hate fish."

Lando dramatically raised the red flag, making everybody laugh again.

"You wouldn't date a pescatarian then," the interviewer said.

"No," Lando shook his head, "They shouldn't be here."

"My girlfriend's a pescatarian, actually," Oscar said, looking at his teammate with a raised eyebrow, "I'll pass that on to her.”

"Noooo mate!" Lando immediately shook his head, waving his hands in mock horror, "Don't tell her I said that, I don't want to be in trouble with your missus! She's a lovely girl."

"She is indeed, but I don't think she'll like you very much after this."

The next segment was from his "Day in the Life" video with Quad Lock, where Oscar gave fans a glimpse into his daily routine. In one particular clip, he was in the kitchen making breakfast.

"So, this is where the magic happens," Oscar said with a cheeky grin as he poured pancake batter onto a hot griddle, "My girlfriend loves pancakes, so I make them every Sunday. It's become sort of a tradition for us."

The camera then panned to a candid shot of his girlfriend, who was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping coffee and smiling fondly at Oscar. She blew him a kiss, which Oscar caught with a playful wink.

"There she is, sitting pretty while I play housewife."

The next clip in the compilation was from a press conference, where a journalist asked him how he manages to stay focused with such a demanding schedule.

"Having a supportive partner really helps," Oscar said earnestly, "She understands the pressures and the demands of the job. She’s my rock and makes everything a lot easier."

"Does it get hard for her when your schedule is too busy for your relationship?"

"My schedule is never too busy for my girlfriend, I always make sure to make time for her. That's why we've been going strong for four years now."

Another McLaren game with Lando was included, this time they were playing Finish the Lyric with Taylor Swift songs.

"Do you feel confident about this game, Oscar?" Lando asked his teammate.

"I do, actually," Oscar nodded confidently, "My girlfriend is a huge Taylor Swift fan so I know a lot of her songs."

"We should get your girl to come and play then," Lando teased.

"She'd probably beat us both, hands down. But I'm not giving up just yet." Oscar chuckled, shaking his head.

The compilation video then transitioned to a moment in the McLaren garage before the first quali of the Hungary Grand Prix. Oscar was off to the side, chatting with his girlfriend, who had joined him for the event.

They seemed to be in their own little bubble, Oscar's attention completely focused on her and his smile wide as he listened to her talk. The camera captured a sweet moment where he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about their relationship and fans absolutely melted at the interaction.

The next clip showed Oscar at a fan event in Australia, hundreds of fans gathered to meet the drivers and see them up close, Oscar was answering questions from the interviewers when he suddenly addressed one of the fans in the front row.

"I've got a girlfriend, thank you," he said into the microphone, making everyone laugh but look confused at the same time, "For everyone wondering, she just asked what my number was," the crowd laughed again even louder, "But I'm a happily taken man. You're nice but I'm not interested."

In that same event, he got asked what did he miss the most from the UK when he was back in Australia.

"My girlfriend," he immediately said, "Other than that the food is better here, the weather is better here. So my girlfriend, that's it."

The following video was also a fan interaction, this time it was a fan recorded video while he was signing stuff for those waiting for him as he arrived to the paddock for the Austin Grand Prix.

Oscar was signing autographs and taking pictures, when a fan handed him a photo of him and his girlfriend from a race weekend.

"Oh, this is a great picture," Oscar said, grinning as he looked at the photo. "This was taken at Silverstone, right? It was her first time at a race with me. She loved it."

"What's her favorite part about the races?" The fan smiled and asked.

"Probably the adrenaline and seeing me in action," Oscar chuckled, "But she also loves hanging out in the paddock. She gets along really well with everyone here."

The next clip showcased Oscar during a Twitch stream, where he was playing a racing simulator. His girlfriend walked into the room, and the chat exploded with excitement.

"Hey, love," Oscar greeted her, pausing the game.

"Am I interrupting you?" she softly asked.

"Nope, come here," he encouraged to come closer, "Everyone, this is my girlfriend," she waved at the camera, and Oscar wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into the frame. "She's the reason I'm still sane," he joked, earning a kiss on the cheek from her.

The video included one of everyone's favorite interactions between the couple, captured by McLaren's instagram team.

Oscar had just finished a quiali, earning a P2 position, the camera caught as he reunited with his girlfriend who threw her arms around his neck as soon as she saw him.

"Hiii," he shyly said, a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

"You did such a great job, baby," she said, still wrapped around his arms, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I couldn’t have done it without you cheering me on," he replied, his voice soft and genuine.

The final clip was from the FIA Prize Giving ceremony, Oscar stood on the stage, dressed in a sharp suit, the Rookie of the Year trophy shining in his hands.

"First of all, I want to thank my team, McLaren, for believing in me and giving me the opportunity," Oscar began, his voice steady but emotional, "But most importantly, I want to thank my girlfriend. She's been my rock through it all, supporting me every step of the way. This award is as much hers as it is mine."

The camera panned to his girlfriend, sitting in the audience with tears in her eyes, smiling proudly. The fans watching the livestream couldn't help but gush over the touching moment.

As the compilation ended, the screen faded to black with the text, "Oscar Piastri: The Ultimate Simp, and Proud of It."

5K notes · View notes

no-144444 · 3 months ago

Text

the fuck up- o.piastri

꩜summary: the silence has become loud in the mclaren garage now they're back from their week-long break. what's making oscar so miserable? lando wants to get to the bottom of it...

꩜pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

The sun began its descent over the flat city of Miami as Oscar and Lando sat to eat. Oscar did not want to eat with Lando. Lando very much wanted to eat with Oscar. Both of them had their reasons. Lando’s were; Oscar had been miserable since they got back from their week off, and he was too nosy not to ask. Oscar’s were; he’d had been miserable since they got back from their week off, and Lando was too nosy not to ask.

“How’s Magui?” Oscar asked, trying to make it seem casual. He’d never once asked about Lando’s dating life, mostly because he didn’t care. Lando smirked at him like he knew what was going on, and Oscar continued drinking his wine with a blank look on his face.

Lando giggled lightly and sighed. “Oh Oscar… Oscar, Oscar, Oscar… sweet, young, naive Oscar,” Lando took a breath as Oscar rolled his eyes, this was getting repetitive already. “This is about Y/n!” He pointed a finger in his face and all he got back was that same blank expression, but inside Oscar felt that sting in his heart. “You’re missing her!”

Try as he might, he couldn’t deny that. But that wasn’t the main issue. You’d been great. Mia was great. Oscar was the outlier. Well, Beth was the outlier.

He huffed. “I miss my daughter,” he corrected. “And no, that’s not a crime.”

“You’ve known your daughter for two months,” Lando scoffed. “You were in love with Y/n for years.”

“And I broke up with her,” Oscar shot back.

Lando grimaced. “Don’t remind me. You were almost bearable for a moment there.”

Oscar scoffed and crossed his arms, levelling Lando with his eyes. “I just don’t understand why you care so much.”

Lando mirrored his position and realised how close he was to the answer, the true answer. Whatever was bugging him so much. “Because I was there for Y/n?”

“And I wasn’t,” Oscar nodded, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “And everyone keeps reminding me of that.”

Lando shook his head. “It’s your own failing-”

“I know that!” Oscar’s hand hit the table so hard it attracted the eyes of a few other tables. He cleared his throat as Lando did the same, offering apologetic looks to the other tables, then turned his attention back to the man in front of him. “I know that,” he repeated, like he was trying to convince himself of it too. “But I didn’t know,” he added. “I couldn’t have known-”

“You would’ve if you didn’t put your racing career before yourself,” Lando shrugged and it knocked the wind out of Oscar’s lungs. No one had ever framed it like that. That he’d sacrifice himself for his career. The story always was that he’d sacrificed his relationships, his schooling, his regular life- which was all true, sure. But no one had ever reminded him of the fact that he gave up the most important thing to him, because he thought it would make him quicker. Even with no way to prove it, he knew losing you had never been good for him, or his career. You had been the one thing he had for himself. The one thing that nothing in the paddock could touch, he wouldn’t let it. His racing brain switched off around you, and he gave that up for being an Alpine reserve driver. “Simple as, mate,” he added.

Oscar was quiet for a moment. “What do you want me to say to that?”

“I want you to tell me what happened last week because Y/n won’t,” Lando leaned in, almost putting his chin on the table, batting his eyelashes and trying to make Oscar tell him. Oscar rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he shrugged.

“Beth showed up, didn’t she?” Lando mused, biting his bottom lip in suspense. Oscar sighed and Lando’s jaw dropped, though his hands raised in victory, and quickly dropped back down again. “Holy shit. What happened?”

The early morning sun of Monaco was truly breathtaking, and Mia seemed to love it too. It was your first time in Oscar’s old place, the apartment he was lending to a friend while he set up base in London with you and Mia. He had offered to bring you both to Monaco so Mia could ‘see where he’d been all these years’, and so that you could get a break.

“It’s beautiful,” Mia whispered, her tired voice small as she curled up into your side in front of the floor-length windows. You chuckled as she cuddled into your lap, falling back to sleep as you people-watched. You spotted the cars going past, the people walking their dogs, the people going for runs, the people going to work. You adored the just… watch the world pass by. You were so engrossed in it, you didn’t see Oscar come up beside you.

“What do you think?” he whispered. You startled, but kept still enough to keep Mia asleep. He chuckled, as did you. His eyes fell to Mia in your lap, though you knew he was listening.

“Struggling to understand why you left this place for London,” you answered, and he laughed. This was so… normal, but strange. It was all so domestic, and you’d trained yourself to not think that. You wanted him gone, out of your life and mind. You thought back to all those mornings and nights you spent with Mia as she grew, imagining Oscar beside you. Imagining him feeding Mia a bottle as the sun rose, when she was just new. Imagining him playing with her in the park. Imagining her cuddling into his side while you watched movies at night. Imagining him taking some of the load off your shoulders. You’d always pushed it to the back of your mind, reminding yourself that he wanted nothing to do with you.

And here he was. Wanting everything to do with you.

“London has you two,” he shrugged. “Monaco doesn’t.”

“But it has nice weather and a pretty killer view,” you teased.

“You two are a pretty nice view,” he said before he knew what he was saying, and the air changed. You shifted your position. He cleared his throat and did that thing he always did when he was nervous or made a mistake, that ‘resting his chin on his hand’ thing. “And London’s not bad. Cheaper than here.”

You chuckled. “You’re a millionaire,” you reminded him.

He nodded and turned his attention back to the view. It was pretty stellar. “It’s nice, but I’d miss her too much.”

“Course,” you nodded, threading a hand through her hair. “I understand.”

“Thought you would,” he chuckled.

Knock knock.

“Who’s here so early?” you questioned. “Are you expecting someone?”

He shook his head as he stood. “Shouldn’t be,” he walked over to the door and (stupidly) opened the door without checking the peephole. Bad choice.

Beth.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” she demanded, loud enough to wake Mia in your lap, and you were genuinely too panicked to really know what to do. Who the fuck was this strange woman? Were you safe? How did she know Oscar? “I have been calling and texting you for weeks! Are you alright? Have you fallen off the face of the earth for some unknown reason?!”

“Beth,” he said, his voice hushed. “Can we talk another time?”

“Fuck no!” she scoffed, pushing past him at the exact moment you chose to jump up, trying to remove yourself from the room. Bad timing. She gasped louder than you’d ever heard. She was a woman who looked kind of like you… it was freaky. She stared at you for a moment, then turned her attention to… Mia. In your arms. The kid. The kid that looked like Oscar.

Her gasp was even louder that time. “YOU HAVE A FAMILY?!”

“No! It’s not what it looks like-” you started, then cut yourself off. “Well.. yes, it is. But not like that. Oscar and I broke up years ago and I only realised I was pregnant afterward, we’d blocked each other on everything, and he only found out about this a few months ago. I don’t know who you are, and I’m just going to head-”

“Y/n-” Oscar’s voice called out, but the look you gave him made him shut up. You collected up your and Mia’s things and went for the door as Beth paced around the apartment. “Y/n, at least tell me where you’re going?”

“Lando’s, probably,” you answered before hastily leaving the apartment, and leaving him with the problem he’d been ignoring for weeks.

“Her name’s Y/n,” she stated, her jaw open. “And you said it didn’t mean anything.”

Oscar cringed. Ok, maybe he’d said your name once (or twice) during sex. Maybe he’d pretended it wasn’t a big deal, and that he was just naming famous people in his head to stop himself from cumming prematurely. Maybe he’d lied.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I know I’m an asshole-”

“Understatement of the century,” she interrupted. “Go on. Just break up with me now.”

Oscar’s breath caught in his throat. “Do I really need to say it…?”

“Wow. So we literally meant nothing at all?” she asked, and he could see how upset she was. He didn’t deserve her, and he definitely didn’t deserve you, but if this wasn’t the universe giving him a chance at everything he’d ever wanted, he’d be damned if he didn’t take it, and Beth just wasn’t part of that. “I won’t let the door hit me on my way out, fuck,” she sighed as she pushed past him. “Y/n deserves better, you prick!”

He knew she was right. He knew he should’ve just… he didn’t even know what he should’ve done. He just couldn’t stay done with you.

“That bad, huh?” Lando nodded. “You really are a heartbreaker, holy shit,” he chuckled. Dinner had come and gone, and they were on their last sips of their drinks.

“I’m a prick,” he nodded. “And Y/n has been so dry texting me, so I don’t even know if her and Mia are coming this weekend, or next.”

“They are,” Lando assured him. “Y/n might just… be a bit off. Shits happening at work and obviously not the best intro to your ex’s girlfriend.”

“I broke up with Beth,” he corrected. Lando frowned.

“Yeah, I know that. Y/n doesn’t. She thinks she’s medeled in your relationship and fucked it up for you, duh,” Lando shrugged. “Are you sure you know Y/n?”

Oscar faked a laugh and flipped him off. “You’re so funny,” he added, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I know that. I just need to talk to her. And Mia. I mean, I know I’m not winning parent of the year, but all I did was fucking stand there, Y/n got her out of there. I couldn’t even stop Beth from coming in-”

“I hate to break your self-hatred rant, but we are in fact exiting my field of expertise,” Lando interrupted. “And dinner’s done. Call her tonight, see if she’s in Miami yet. If she is, go over there and hang out with your daughter. If she’s not, offer to pick them up whenever they get here. You’ll get through this, don’t worry mate.”

Oscar wasn’t so sure.

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

taglist: (comment to be added!)

@htpssgavi @widow-cevans @anayaverse @1800-love-me @your-mommy-ems @scriptedinkbyxim @painfromblues @dustie-faerie @bowielovesyou @sweetwh0re @freyathehuntress

1K notes · View notes