Pairing: F1 grid x driver!Ohtani!Platonic!Reader ft. Shohei Ohtani
A/N: Made this after watching all 7 games of the world series. Ohtani and Yamamoto is killiing it out there.
You were supposed to be in Las Vegas.
Keyword: supposed to.
Formula 1 had media day, Vegas Strip show runs, and even a glitzy dinner planned. You were supposed to be there with your team — but when your brother Shohei Ohtani called you that morning, his voice soft but teasing, saying,
“The Dodgers are playing at home. I’m doing the ceremonial pitch. You’re coming, right?”
— there was absolutely no way you could say no.
You: “I have commitments.”
Shohei: “Family is a commitment.”
You: “You can’t guilt-trip me with Asian parenting logic, Sho.”
Shohei: “Worked last time.”
Touché.
Within two hours, you had texted your team principal (“family emergency— I promise it’s not bad”), rounded up half the grid, and were on a jet to L.A. Because somehow, every driver within a 50-mile radius had heard “Shohei Ohtani’s little sister” and decided this was a once-in-a-lifetime field trip.
⚾DODGER STADIUM, 5PM
Shohei met you at the entrance, tall, calm, baseball cap low. When he saw the horde of Formula 1 drivers trailing behind you like hyperactive ducklings, he blinked once.
“You brought the circus.”
“They insisted.”
“I said you could come.”
“They don’t listen to me.”
Charles waved from the back. “Bonjour, Shohei! We come in peace!”
Lando added, “Yeah, we just want to see if Y/N’s actually related to you. She doesn’t act like it.”
You glared at him. “I can throw you harder than I can throw a baseball.”
Shohei just smiled faintly, muttering something in Japanese that sounded suspiciously like ‘she hasn’t changed.’
🧢 THE WARM-UP
You stretched on the sidelines, catching balls Shohei tossed lazily. Every so often, he’d switch up the spin — and every time, you caught it with sharp reflexes honed from racing at 200 mph.
“Still got it,” he said.
“I learned from the best.”
“You stopped playing baseball after what, age ten?”
“Because someone broke my glove.”
“You left it in the rain!”
“It was raining for character development.”
The F1 boys were dying laughing. Carlos whispered, “So this is what she’s like at home.”
⚾ FLASHBACK: IWATE, JAPAN — YEARS AGO
You were eight, Shohei eighteen — already training in the States, but home for the holidays. The winter air was sharp, snow melting into slush on the makeshift field behind your family’s house.
Shohei crouched beside you, helping you adjust your grip on the baseball.
“Thumb here, fingers here,” he said patiently.
“Like this?” you asked, tongue poking out as you concentrated.
“Perfect. Now, try throwing it as far as you can.”
You threw. The ball went maybe ten feet and landed in the snow with a pitiful thud.
You frowned. “It’s broken.”
Shohei burst out laughing. “It’s not the ball that’s broken.”
You stomped your foot, tiny and stubborn. “Then teach me to throw like you!”
So he did. Every day that winter. In the snow, in the rain, even when your gloves froze stiff. By spring, you were actually decent. When he left for camp that year, he left his old glove behind — with your name scribbled on the inside.
You’d kept it all these years.
⚾ PRESENT DAY: THE “CEREMONIAL” PITCH (PART TWO)
When the announcer’s voice echoed:
“Please welcome Formula 1 driver and Shohei Ohtani’s sister — Y/N Ohtani!”
The stadium exploded.
Your F1 friends had somehow convinced security to give them seats in the front row — though “sitting” wasn’t the right word, since they were screaming like middle school fans at a concert.
Max had a camera out. “If she throws 100 mph, I’m showing this to Christian.”
Oscar: “She’s definitely going to do something stupid.”
Lando: “I hope she does something stupid.”
You smirked, walking up to the mound. Shohei, already in catcher’s gear, winked. “Remember what I taught you?”
You twirled the ball in your fingers. “Let’s find out.”
First pitch: 98 mph fastball.
Strike one.
The batter blinked. Shohei’s eyebrows raised behind the mask.
Second pitch: 86 mph changeup.
Strike two.
The crowd was half-screaming, half-confused.
Third pitch: a wicked 94 mph slider that curved like a dream.
Strike three.
Shohei stood up, laughing so hard he had to pull you into a one-armed hug.
“You’ve been lying to me. When did you start throwing that hard?”
“Karting helps with wrist control,” you grinned. “And anger issues.”
🧃 THE CHAOS AFTER
Back in the dugout, the F1 boys swarmed you.
Lando: “You just STRUCK OUT an MLB player!”
George: “Are you sure you’re not secretly part of Team USA?”
Charles: “You throw better than you drive!”
You: “Excuse me— WHAT?”
Meanwhile, Shohei just watched from the bench, hiding his amusement. “You’ve created monsters.”
You shrugged. “You invited them.”
⚾ BONUS ROUND: SHOHEI VS. Y/N
During the seventh-inning stretch, the Dodgers social media team had a “brilliant” idea:
“What if Shohei and Y/N do a sibling showdown? One pitch each, fastest wins!”
The crowd went feral.
Shohei threw first. 101 mph. Effortless. The crowd roared.
Then it was your turn.
You jogged up, rolled your shoulders, and smirked at your brother. “Bet dinner on this?”
He raised a brow. “You’re on.”
You wound up, put everything you had into it—
101 mph.
The radar blinked again. Tied.
The F1 boys lost their minds.
Shohei stared at you in disbelief. “You tied me?”
You grinned. “Guess it runs in the family.”
📱 POST-GAME
By the time you got back to Vegas, every sports account in existence had clipped your throw.
MLB networks. F1 TikTok edits. Even ESPN called it “the fastest ceremonial pitch in MLB history.”
When asked about it later, Shohei just smiled at reporters and said,
“She’s been throwing fast since she was eight. I’m just glad she didn’t throw at me this time.”
And when someone asked you about it?
You shrugged.
“He taught me how to throw. I just… applied it at higher speeds.”
🏁 ONE LAST FLASHBACK
Late that night, scrolling through your phone in the Vegas hotel, you found an old video your mom had sent.
Eight-year-old you, bundled in a beanie, throwing a snowball at Shohei.
He dodged it — barely — laughing, shouting,
“You call that a throw?”
The video ended with you grinning, hands on your hips, yelling back,
“Just wait till I’m older!”
You smiled to yourself, locked the screen, and whispered,
“Told you so, Sho.”
End.
A/N: might right a part 2 to this where the roles are switched and Shohei is now trying to drive.
