Could you do a fic where reader is an f1 driver bit on a different team then Oscar and she sees like the pressure catching up to him and like he’s more quiet then usual so she starts leaving notes in his garage and drivers room and it starts making him smile more and he’s happy but sad that he doesn’t know who this mysterious person
LITTLE NOTES • O. PIASTRI
pairing: oscar piastri x female!mercedesdriver!reader.
summary: sometimes the smallest words make the biggest difference.
warnings: comfrot. fluff. mentions of stress/pressure ( nothing heavy ). slow burn. stupid journalist. media. the public. soft romance. secret admirer kinda trope. protective and soft oscar. supportive diva george. cute ending.
a/n: my first oscar fic. really enjoyed writing this one!! love getting requests, keep 'em coming folks.
oscar had always been good at pretending.
smiles in press conferences, calm interviews, quick jokes that hid how heavy everything felt. but lately, it has been getting harder. the pressure was catching up. the noise, the headlines, the endless expectations that wrapped around him like static.
you noticed first. of course you did.
he used to nod at you across the paddock. small, polite, but real. lately, even that was gone. his shoulders stayed tense, his answers shorter, his eyes distant. he looked like he was carrying something too heavy for one person.
and you couldn’t really blame him. continuous pressure from the team, the public and himself. you know how that feels. being the only female driver on the grid wasn’t always a dance on roses. it never was really.
so of course you understood him, but you wanted to do something for him to get his spark back since he was also beginning to lose himself a bit on the track and not just off it.
the first note wasn’t really planned, you told yourself. you found a small piece of paper during debrief and wrote without thinking.
“you’re doing amazing. you don’t need to prove your worth to anyone . it’s already proven, trust me.”
you slipped it into his driver room that night, tucked beneath his headset before returning to your hotel room after two training sessions.
the next morning, you saw him holding the note you wrote. he held it close like he was afraid it might disappear. for the first time in weeks, he smiled. small, barely there, but real.
but you noticed it. that was enough.
you made it a ritual. little notes hidden before each training session, sprint, qualifying and race weekends.
“you’’re not defined by a lap time.”
“always remember to be yourself. the real people see you for you.”
“you make the paddock brighter just by being in it.”
it became your secret. quiet kindness, no credit, no expectations. you just hope that it helped him somehow.
and slowly, it did help him.
oscar laughed again, he joked with lando, smiled at fans and genuinely seemed lighter somehow. like the noise didn’t reach him as easily. sometimes, though, you caught him glancing around the paddock, eyes soft and searching.
by the fifth race weekend after starting writing the notes, you almost got caught. you’d just left a note on his water bottle when a voice came from behind you.
“did you forget something?”
your heart stopped as you turned. oscar stood there. helmet in hand, curious, eyes bright but tired.
you forced a laugh, waving your phone. “just- uh… looking for my agent. wrong garage.”
he smiled a little, enough to make your stomach flip. “happens to the best of us.”
you left before you could give yourself away.
after that, he started noticing you more. small glances during interviews. a nod after qualifying. once, when a reporter asked something invasive about being a female in a male dominated sport, he quietly cut in, redirecting the question without making it awkward for you.
he didn’t make a big deal of it. oscar never did. but it was gentle, protective, and it made something warm settle in your chest.
every time your eyes met, it felt like he knew. and that somehow made you nervous.
silverstone came and went. you finished third while george finished second and oscar finished first. in the cooldown room, you teased him lightly, and he shot you a grin that lingered longer than it should have.
george was smiling at the two of you, secretly loving the whole vibe between you and oscar. he knew about your little crush on the australian driver and quickly found out how you were writing him notes to make him feel better.
“that’s so romantic. i absolutely love it!” he had said to you. “you should definitely tell him. what a power couple you will be.”
you blushed a bit at the statement. “i’d rather just stay silent.” he just rolled his eyes at you, already giving up.
after the race, you found a folded note sitting on your journal.
“thank you. whoever you are. i think i know. and i’m really glad it’s you.”
you smiled so hard your cheeks ached.
the next weekend, you left one last note. after an argument with george about you being a hopeless romantic, you wrote your initials at the bottom of the note.
“for everything you’ve done, for how hard you try. i really see it, oscar. you’re enough. y/n”
you slipped it into his driver room before qualifying, your hands shaking a little.
by the time you came back later to your room after qualifying and the media, he was waiting. not with cameras or teammates. just him, leaning against the wall beside your room, holding your note in his hand.
when your eyes met, something inside you fluttered.
he walked over. calm, steady, but with that soft, knowing look. “so it really was you,” he said quietly. “all this time.”
you nodded, trying not to smile too much. “yeah. i just thought… maybe it would help.”
he looked down at the note again, then back at you. “it did. you really did help.” his voice gentled. “every time i wanted to give up, i found one of these. you have no idea how much it meant.”
you shrugged, a little shy. “i didn’t want you to feel alone. i know how it can get.”
oscar smiled. small, honest, a little crooked. god, you loved that smile. “i don’t feel alone, not anymore.”
there was a pause . warm, quiet, charged with something unspoken. he stepped closer, close enough that you could see the faint crease near his eyes when he smiled.
“can i ask something?” he said. “sure.”
he glanced at the note. “do you have someone leaving notes for you? the way you do for me?”
you laughed softly. “not really. i just try to be positive most of the time.”
he nodded once, thoughtful. then he tucked the note carefully into his pocket. “then maybe i’ll start leaving you some,” he said, voice low but warm. “seems fair.”
when he walked away, he glanced back once, just enough to make you grin. you realized it wasn’t just about the notes anymore.
it was about something new. something fragile, steady, and real. and you couldn’t wait to explore it.
