#f1 shorts

[a-mini-tease]

Tee's Masterlist

Hey Google, summarise my 2am thoughts.

NEWEST! 5v1: The Eyebrow Edition - Landoscar

ATEEZ

Nobody's You - San x Reader

Nobody is perfect. Because nobody is San.

FORMULA 1

Like My Father - Max Verstappen x Reader

You thought you'd never find love like how your father loved your mum. Max Verstappen proves you wrong.

Uno Champion - Oscar Piastri ft. George Russell, Lando Norris, Alex Albon

Oscar thought he hated Uno. Maybe it's just George and his cheating nature.

Grid Secret Santa - 2025 Grid, focus on Max Verstappen

Max invites the grid over for Secret Santa... and finds out just how incompetent half of them are when it comes to wrapping.

Parrot Problems - Lando Norris

Honestly Lando didn’t ever imagine finding himself arguing with a nursery’s parrot over his shoes.

Ruins and Elbows - Charles Leclerc, Max Verstappen

Charles didn’t mean to summon anything; he just had terrible luck with elbows and ancient ruins.

86 Cherries - Kimi Antonelli, Ollie Bearman

'When I worked in a fast food chain, a customer put '86 cherries' as a pretentious way to say no cherries, but the store was run by a bunch of teenagers who were working their first job, and were like "why the **** would they want 86 cherries" and started piling cherries into the milkshake.'

Only Oscar I Need - Oscar Piastri

You may not have won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, but you've already won the Oscar you want.

Drunken Drabble - Landoscar x Reader

Lando and Oscar appear on your doorstep drunk and clingy.

Museum Artefact - George, Lando, Alex

Lando liked dinosaurs.... until he was chased by one.

Teddy Troubles - Landoscar

Lando wins the Tiny Cars Teddy Bear... Oscar can't wait until its gone.

Only Look, Not Hold - Oscar x Charles

Oscar trusted Lando with his daughter, and obliviously trusted Charles the same. But the flags were red the whole way through.

5v1: Eyebrow Edition - Landoscar

Lando always finds Oscar's eyebrows infuriatingly consistent.... consistent at confusing him and causing self-doubt. Until it matters.

[a-mini-tease]

based off the meme:

'When I worked in a fast food chain, a customer put '86 cherries' as a pretentious way to say no cherries, but the store was run by a bunch of teenagers who were working their first job, and were like "why the **** would they want 86 cherries" and started piling cherries into the milkshake.'

The tiles used to be white. You used to be able to see the bench top, a white marble speckled with black flecks, wiped down and clean.

Instead, cherry red drops were splattered across the kitchen, dripping down the tiles, sitting in sticky puddles on the floor, and draped across every surface like royal velvet on an old English loveseat. The blender lay in the middle of the mess, the lid disappeared to who knows where, and the pitcher almost empty of the contents it should hold.

Kimi and Ollie stood in the middle of the mess, once white aprons splattered red, cheeks dotted with whipped cream and sticky, dried ice cream blobs. They stared at the kitchen with absolute frozen horror, jaws hanging slightly.

The media teams were equally shocked, staring at the two drivers. What began as a harmless content video now looked like a murder scene from Criminal Minds.

The silence broke a few seconds later with a disbelieving laugh from Ollie. He lowered his arms from where they were frozen and looked around him. There wasn’t a spot in the kitchen where the bomb of cherries hadn’t reached.

“This was not my fault!” Kimi immediately broke out of his stupor, already turning to point the finger at Ollie.

Ollie scoffed. “How is it my fault?! You put the cherries in!”

Kimi gasped, clearly offended. His hand flung to clutch his heart, whipping his head to glare at Ollie. “I did not! Okay, maybe a few, but you put the ice cream in!”

“Yeah, the right amount!”

“As did I! The instructions said 86 cherries!” His curls bounced as his head snapped to look at the accursed blender that sat on the splattered bench.

“Are you sure it didn’t say 8.6 cherries? Who eats 86 cherries!” Ollie replied exasperatedly, setting off to try and find the missing lid. He peered under the bench, groaning when he found another splatter of cherry milkshake.

“Ollie.” Kimi turned his whole body to face Ollie, putting his hands on his waist and staring at him seriously. “I can read. It said 86 – eight, six. Together. You can’t even get point six of a cherry!”

Ollie huffed, managing to find the lid lodged behind the toaster on the opposite side of the kitchen.

“Guys,” one of the media managers cleared their throat, “you did know that it means no cherries… right?”

“What!?” They cried in unison.

“That is stupid!” Kimi scoffed.

“Why couldn’t they just be normal and say no cherries!” Ollie burst. “If they want their milkshake they can come clean up this mess.” He grumbled moving to try and find some sort of wiper.

[a-mini-tease]

“The winner for the best supporting actress is… Florence Pugh in Little Women!”

You felt a growing pressure on your knee as the venue exploded in polite applause. It fell on deaf ears as you stared down at the hand on your knee. The warmth spread up your leg to pool in your stomach before climbing into your chest and curling around your heart.

Your eyes followed the hand, gliding up the arm until you landed on the owner’s face. Oscar looked at you warmly, his small, genuine smile spread across his lips. Your eyes latched onto his, your lips unconsciously mirroring his.

“Next time.” He whispered, his hand moving to grip yours, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Your grin just widened. “I’m not too fussed about getting one. I’ve already got the only Oscar I need.”

You leaned over the chair to deposit a small kiss on his cheek, ignoring the camera zooming in on your reaction.

You pulled back to Oscar’s reddening cheeks. You muffle a giggle with your free hand before gripping his, using your joined hands to join the polite applause.

While you half-listened to the thank you speeches and the proceeding awards, the sentence kept replaying in your head.

The only Oscar I need.

Every word was true; a hunk of metal moulded into a creepy, naked gold man couldn’t compare. It couldn’t bring you slightly burnt breakfast in bed in the morning. It couldn’t send you sweet texts during a gruelling day. It couldn’t nerd out about random information. It couldn’t measure up to the man it shared its name with.

Because no one could be the Oscar you had.

You’d have your name in headlines for a week, your manager calling about interviews and photo shoots with prestigious companies for maybe a month, and then your name would be lost as just another winner. None of the hard work or achievement would matter much after a few weeks.

But with Oscar, you always mattered. Every second of every day he’d gladly just think about you. Nothing was more real than stepping away from the camera to someone that truly loved you for you. Not the driver moulded by expectation and championship pressure, or the character you had to act. You were the only person Oscar truly needed.

And Oscar was the only one you needed.