#f1 oneshot

[mattiessunflower]

new years resolution: actually write fics instead of staring at my laptop for an hour.

[the-offside-rule]

Oscar Piastri (McLaren) - Soft Launch

Requested: yes

Prompt: Piastri x Norris!reader where their relationship is secret

Warnings: none

The low hum of the paddock was finally quieting down when Y/n slipped into Oscar’s driver room. The air still smelled faintly of heat and fuel, and she could hear the distant celebration from the McLaren hospitality area — Lando’s laughter carrying faintly through the wall. Y/n sat on the small couch, knees pulled to her chest, waiting. She knew exactly what kind of mood Oscar would be in. He’d driven brilliantly tonight, but once again, the team had made their priorities clear, favouring her brother when it mattered most.

She didn’t blame Lando, of course. But she knew how much it ate at Oscar to be treated like a second driver.

The door finally swung open.

Oscar stood there, still in his race suit, jaw tight and eyes dark. But as soon as he saw her sitting there, his shoulders eased just a little. His gaze softened, though his voice was low and tired when he spoke. "I’m sorry, Y/n… but you need to go." She blinked, confusion furrowing her brow. "What do you mean I need to go?"

Oscar didn’t answer right away. He began peeling off his overalls, tying then around his waist. "You should go celebrate with your brother. The team’s out… they’re celebrating the Constructors’ Championship." Her heart sank. "Why aren’t you there?" He let out a humourless laugh. "Wasn’t invited, it would seem."

"Oh Oscar. I'm sorry." She whispered, the guilt in her chest tightening. "Don’t be sorry." He said quickly, glancing at her with that small, exhausted smile of his. "You didn’t do anything wrong."

"I know." She said softly. "But I am sorry anyway." He sighed and finally sat down next to her, his body slumping against the couch. For a moment, he just stared at the floor before leaning his head against her shoulder. She instinctively rested her cheek against the top of his head, her fingers brushing the side of his neck gently. "I just want the season to be over." He murmured, eyes closed. "So I can stay at home for a bit." She smiled faintly, tracing her thumb along the seam of his suit. "I’d still like for you to bring home the silverware, though."

That earned her a small grin. "Regardless of who wins right now-" He said, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. "You’re going to be seeing it anyway." She giggled. "I know, I’m just trying to be comforting." Oscar’s grin softened into something warmer. "In all honesty, if I win it or not… I just want a week after the championship where we can lie in bed and do absolutely nothing for once." Y/n let out a soft laugh. "I like that idea."

"Good." He said, voice low and sincere. Then, after a pause, he broke the silence. "We’ll have to tell Lando about us at some stage, you know." Her smile faltered slightly, and she sighed. "We’ve been keeping it from him for two years, Oscar. He still thinks we’re just really good friends from karting. Why change that now?"

"Because I love you." He said simply, his hand finding hers. "And I don’t want to creep around it anymore." Her chest tightened. Not with nerves this time, but with something softer, steadier. She looked at him for a long moment before she whispered. "Then we can do it today if you want." He nodded slowly. "We’ll start dropping hints when we go celebrate." A grin tugged at her lips. "A soft launch, huh?" He chuckled quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah. A soft launch."

[the-offside-rule]

Oscar Piastri (McLaren) - My Very Own Mark Darcy

Requested: no

Warnings: no

Y/n was sprawled across the bed, phone in hand, kicking her feet like a teenager. Her giggles filled the room as she scrolled through TikTok, where her For You Page had somehow been overtaken by Mark Darcy edits. She replayed one particularly dramatic scene, clutching her pillow to her chest as the slow-motion and piano music made her squeal with secondhand romance. The door creaked open, and Oscar leaned against the frame, raising an amused brow.

"What’s going on here, then? You look like you’re watching something illegal." He teased, eyes flicking to her kicking legs. Y/n gasped and shoved the phone under her blanket like she’d been caught red-handed. "It’s nothing!" She said quickly, but the grin on her face betrayed her. Oscar chuckled, walking over to sit at the edge of the bed. "That didn’t look like nothing. What were you watching?" With a dramatic sigh, Y/n pulled her phone back out and showed him the screen. "It’s… Mark Darcy edits. Don’t judge me."

Oscar blinked. "Who?"

"Exactly." Y/n huffed, rolling her eyes. "You need to watch the movie to understand. Come on." And just like that, she dragged him to the sofa, queued up Bridget Jones’s Diary, and curled under his arm. Oscar obliged, more amused by her enthusiasm than anything else.

Halfway through the film, Oscar tilted his head, watching Colin Firth’s stiff but quietly charming portrayal. "He’s a bit like me, isn’t he?" He said, sounding almost surprised. Y/n turned to him instantly, eyes shining as she nodded. "Exactly! That’s why I like you both. You’re both… steady. Kind. A little awkward sometimes but always saying the right thing when it matters."

Oscar’s cheeks warmed, and he tried to play it off with a scoff. "So you’re saying I’m some posh guy in a Christmas jumper?" Y/n grinned and kissed his cheek. "I’m saying you’re my Mark Darcy. And that’s better than any edit on TikTok." Oscar couldn’t help but smile, pulling her closer. "Well, I suppose there are worse things to be." Y/n giggled, pressing play again, but this time, Oscar actually leaned in and started watching properly, as though trying to live up to the title.

[the-offside-rule]

Ollie Bearman (Haas F1) - Moving Day

Requested: yes

Prompt: 5) Helping them moving in

Warnings: none

College/Work AU Masterlist

The moving truck was still idling at the curb, but Y/n barely noticed. She stood in the middle of her new flat, arms stretched out like she could hug the space into life. A smile tugged at her lips, her own little one-bedroom, one-bathroom sanctuary on the outskirts of London. No parents. No shared walls with nosy neighbours. Just her. "Look at this place!" She breathed, spinning slowly in the middle of the tiny living room. "It’s perfect."

Behind her, Ollie leaned against the doorframe, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, watching her with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Perfect." She turned, catching the way he was scanning the narrow kitchen, the slightly scuffed skirting boards, the single radiator that groaned when it turned on. "Why are you being like this?" She asked, tilting her head at him. He blinked, straightening. "Being like what?"

"Like you’re at a funeral instead of at my very first apartment." She walked toward him, crossing her arms. "You offered to buy me a place, remember? Then, you tried to convince me to just move in with you. And when I said no, you suddenly became-" She gestured vaguely at him. "This." Ollie sighed, shifting his weight. "It’s just a bit small, that’s all." Y/n rolled her eyes, the fond smile returning. "Ollie. I’m perfectly fine in this flat. It’s mine. I can afford it. That’s what matters."

His jaw worked for a moment, but when she looped her arms around his neck, he let himself melt into her closeness. She pressed a kiss to his lips, warm and soft, and for a second he forgot about the peeling paint in the hallway. "Better?" She murmured against his mouth. "Maybe." He said, though a smirk had finally replaced his pout. His hands slid down to her waist as he leaned in again. "Should we maybe go see the bedroom?" She let out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly. "Oh, please. We’ve got boxes to move, mister." He groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. "Boxes can wait."

"They really can’t." She stepped away, grabbing one of the lighter ones from the stack by the door. "Come on, big strong Formula 1 driver. Let’s see if you’re actually useful outside of a car." Ollie muttered something under his breath, but when she flashed him a teasing grin, he caved, scooping up two boxes at once.

As they made their way into the flat, he glanced around again, his chest loosening just a little. Sure, it was small. Sure, he wished she’d just let him spoil her. But watching Y/n beam at her new home, at her own space, he realized maybe her version of perfeft really did beat his.

[the-offside-rule]

Guyssss

Guess whos starting to write the 25 Days of Christmas ficsssss. Below, tell me some athletes you want to be seen in the 25 days this year!

[the-offside-rule]

Hola a todos. Esto va dirigido a los hispanohablantes. Necesito un poco de ayuda. Estoy escribiendo una fanfiction y tengo una idea para el título, pero no sé cuál sería la forma correcta. Quiero poner simplemente "gossip" como título, pero en español. Sería mejor:

Un chisme

Los chismes

O simplemente el verbo chismear?

Y si pudieran explicármelo para que mi comprensión del idioma mejore, se los agradecería mucho.

(Perdón si tengo algún error, el español no es mi primera lengua).

[the-offside-rule]

Can I request number 5 from the The College/Work au list with Ollie Bearman? Thank you if possible❤️

Written and coming the 18th xx

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐲/𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐯𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚 𝟏 𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐤

leclerc!reader

summary: y/n is filming her little vlog at the paddock, picking out some seized moments.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

clip one

*the camera is filming lando as he sleeps, y/n sitting squatting down beside him, pointing the portable microphone to his face, hearing his soft snores*

y/n: ...

*y/n acts like she listens to what lando says, nodding like she thinking*

lando: ....

y/n: *looking at the camera* i absolutely disagree.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

clip five

*the camera is shaking slightly, recording as y/n walks on the concrete of the paddock from one coffee station to another, her pink bag hanging on her shoulder, white miu miu kitten heels clicking on the ground with every step*

y/n: *slowing her steps, readjusting the bag on her shoulder* man, my feet already hurts awfully in this fucking shoes...

cameraman: then why do you wear it?

y/n: *stopping for a moment, looking at the camera, walking ahead* because i look fucking good in it.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

clip twelve

*y/n and the cameraman sits in the cafeteria part of ferrari. y/n stirs some sweetener in her coffee, massaging her eyebrows as she looks at the others with tired eyes, blinking a couple of times.*

y/n: i didn't sleep good last night. like, it was awfully hot. and now it's like everything i hear is annoying, my ears literally hurt.

*arthur, her brother walking by with his manager*

y/n *looking silently at the camera for a couple of seconds*: great, now i see them, too.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

clip fifteen

*the cameraman is filming as y/n hurries silently to max verstappen, planning on asking him some questions. the leclerc girl fastens her steps, signing the cameraman to go with her and record every second, overtaking max, she pats his shoulder slightly, reaching up because the man is much more taller than her.*

y/n: good afternoon, kind sir, would you like to answer to some questions?

max: *sipping on his red bull*: you don't need to call me kind sir y/n, i literally know you since you teared down a doll's head because her hair annoyed you.

*y/n looks at the cameraman, the camera is focusing on her face, she tries really hard to not to look offended at the anecdote. the cameraman is now filming max from closely as he looks at y/n. y/n turns back to max.*

y/n: nevermind. would you like to answer to some of my questions?

max: yes, of course. amuse me, prinses. (princess)

*the camera is focusing on y/n again as she looks at max, dumbfounded and without words. both doesn't know if the nickname got her silent, or the fact that he gave in so easily.*

y/n: *after blinking a couple of blinks and silence, shrugs her shoulders* don't mind me, i don't know what to question. i never got this far.

*the cameraman and y/n walking away from max.*

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

clip nineteen

*the cameraman films y/n, who is leaning closer to the camera, pointing to a specific place. the camera is focused into the way, catching pierre and kika is arguing by far. y/n watches is silently, doesn't knowing what to say, mouth agape only a little. then she licks her lips, sipping on her coffee in a plastic cup.*

y/n: *looking at the cameraman as she watches the couple arguing, looking like she wants to share some gossip tea* i didn't know i would be ever in a situation when i can't pick a side because both the fighting halves look so hot.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

clip twenty-one

*only half an hour before the race, y/n is sitting in the ferrari paddock, looking dreamily in one direction, leaning on one of her hands, nearly twirling her hair. the cameraman is focusing on her face, but then the camera is directed the way she looks towards. the camera is filming as lewis and charles talks, than it snaps back to y/n.*

y/n: i dunno how you are with this topic... but some drivers are really hot here. hot on the track, hotter on the screen, aren't we?

cameraman: are you thinking about your brother?

y/n *instantly pulling a disgusted face, looking at the cameraman like she just heard the ugliest pick-up line of her life.* ewww, no! i thought about lewis, dummy!

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

clip twenty-six

*at the end of the day, y/n is walking out from the paddock with the camera filming her, sighing tiredly, planning on sitting down on the stairs while waiting for their taxi.*

y/n: i think it was a good day. well, it wasn't that miserable.

*y/n gives a high five to the cameraman, and then, her phone rings, picking it up.*

y/n: *whispering, smiling widely* it's alexa! probably the other girlies are with her as well.

*after a couple of seconds, y/n puts her phone away, her face is much more delighted than before, straightening her back, looking at the cameramen.*

y/n: *acting like she is a ceo of a gossip-tea-owning industry* heads up, headquarters informed me. some really, really spice hot tea is waiting for me. for us! come on, where is that damn taxi?

*running to the edge of the sidewalk, y/n picks out her little mirror, checking her makeup. then, she looks at the cameraman, a little bit frightened, but possibly still more energetic then the whole day before.*

y/n: do you think i can fix my makeup in a moving car within 10 minutes?

a/n: hope you liked it! send me requests in dm or here if you want more leclerc!reader 🎀🧸