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n0vazsq · 2 days ago

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Way of the heart | OP81 x Reader

pairing . . . oscar piastri x racing!engineer!reader

summary . . . After a tough race, Oscar has nothing to look forward to more than spending time with (Y/n)

request . . . kind of?

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . none!

alexavia yaps . . . i really hate this one for some reason like its not the best i could do but i wanted to write something so yeah!! the person who wanted this (im sorry i forgot your user), if you want another story i will totally write it!! tysm for asking <3

Oscar slumped into the chair in the back of the team garage, still in his racing suit, the helmet beside him on the floor. Today’s race had been brutal, everything going wrong until he finally crossed the finish line in a place he didn’t even want to remember. No matter how much he tried to forget it, the disappointment still clung to him.

As the crew packed up around him, you walked over, carrying a bottle of water and a quiet look of understanding. You’d worked with Oscar long enough to know when he needed a moment to think and when he needed someone to remind him he wasn’t alone. Today, he needed the latter.

“Rough day,” you said softly, offering him the bottle. He accepted it with a quick nod, cracking it open but not taking a sip.

“Understatement of the year,” he muttered, letting out a short, frustrated sigh. “Everything went wrong, didn’t it? Every call, every turn… feels like I let everyone down out there.”

You didn’t rush to disagree or to tell him it was all fine because you knew Oscar didn't want you to. Instead, you waited a bit, giving him the space to breathe.

“You know, racing’s a lot like life. Sometimes it’s out of our control, even when we do everything right. We all saw you fight today,” you said gently. “One tough race doesn’t define who you are as a driver.”

He glanced up, the frustration in his eyes softening as he met your steady gaze. “Thanks,” he said, managing a faint smile. “Not sure what I’d do without you, honestly.”

You laughed lightly, leaning against the wall beside him. “Lucky for you, I’m sticking around, win or lose.”

His smile widened a little, and after a few moments of quiet, he stood up, finally letting go of some of the weight he’d carried off the track. “Hey,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I know it’s late, but do you want to grab some food? Just… need to be somewhere that’s not here.”

The restaurant he picked was cozy, tucked away from the noise and chaos that followed you on racing weekends. He knew you’d love it, remembering how you mentioned your love for Italian food

When you walked in, his heart skipped a beat. You wore a smile that was both warm and teasing, the one that always seemed to make everything feel a little less overwhelming.

He stood, smiling sheepishly. “Hey, you look… great,” he said, his voice a little unsteady. The nerves of the race had melted away, replaced by a different kind of nervousness that he couldn’t ignore.

You grinned, taking a seat across from him. “Thanks, Piastri. It’s nice to see you in a non-race setting for once. And I have to say, you look pretty good.”

He laughed, glancing down at his simple outfit. “I tried, y’know, for you.”

The waiter took your orders, and as the evening went on, you two spoke about anything and everything but racing. The conversation drifted easily from favorite movies to random childhood memories. You two talked about wild stories and embarassing moments, laughing at every single thing.

But Oscar’s mind kept wandering back to you. How you’d been there every step of his career, how you’d seen him at his worst and still chose to believe in him. At one point, as you were laughing at a joke he’d told, he couldn’t help but stare a little, his heart pounding in a way that felt completely different from the adrenaline of racing.

The laughter quietened down, and a comfortable silence fell between you both. Oscar looked down at his hands, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “You know,” he began, a little quieter now, “you mean a lot to me. More than just… my engineer or friend.”

You looked up, your expression softening, and he felt his courage swell just a bit. “I think I realized that today, after everything went bad on the track. Just seeing you there, not judging me, not telling me what I should’ve done differently, just… being there. It made all the difference.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’d be there no matter what, Oscar. You’re a brilliant driver and a good person. Bad race or not, that doesn’t change.”

His cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through him. He turned his hand to hold yours, letting the silence speak for itself. And for a moment, all the disappointment and frustration faded, replaced by a quiet joy that he hadn’t expected to feel tonight.

Later, you walked together under the night sky, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warm evening inside. He found himself wishing the walk could last forever, just the two of you, away from the chaos of everything.

Eventually, you both settled on a bench with a view of a beautiful fountain. The sound of the water filled the quiet spaces between you, and he reached over, slipping his hand into yours again, holding it with a confidence he hadn’t felt earlier.

“This feels perfect,” you murmured, leaning against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I wish every night could be like this.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting against him. “It’d be easier if we weren’t always at a race or in different cities every other week.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, looking out at the fountain. “But I think… I think it’s worth it.”

You turned to him, your gaze meeting his with a warmth that made his heart race. He took a deep breath, the words he’d been holding back finally finding their way out.

“Do you… maybe want to meet my family? Make it official?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain but hopeful.

You raised your eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Oscar, I think we’re already there. You didn’t have to ask. And of course, I'd love to meet your family.”

He chuckled, feeling a weight lift as his heart swelled with happiness. “Then consider this official.” He leaned in, taking your lips in a kiss.

The kiss made butterflies fill your stomach, it was soft, but also made you crave more. It was something magical, like straight out of a movie. Oscar had his hands on your waist, and yours tangled in his hair. It somehow made it more intimate, more personal. You didn't want it to end.

When you finally pulled back, the smile on your face was everything Oscar ever wanted to see.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the car, and for the first time that night, Oscar felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what happened on the track, he’d always have you there, his biggest supporter, his steady presence.

And with you by his side, he knew he could face anything that came his way.

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n0vazsq · 3 days ago

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The art of forgivness | PA17 x Reader

pairing . . . paul aron x f!reader

summary . . . When Paul and (Y/n) have a fight, he doesn't know if she'll ever forgive him. However, he decides to take his chance and ends up with a happy girlfriend.

request . . . no!

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . cursing

alexavia yaps . . . little random story idk i kinda stole it from myself <33 tell me who yall want in the next one <3

It was almost noon now, Paul knew damn well that he should be practicing on the sim, but he wasn't.

He re-read the messages between him and (Y/n), for what seemed like the millionth time. Was he really that much of an asshole? He couldn't believe how she didn't physically attack him, he'd want to do it to himself.

Cocky, annoying and asshole-ish. That was he was to (Y/n), and he didn't understand why she still dealt with him. Perhaps homicide of oneself would be useful now.

His fingers lingered over the keyboard, aching to send her a message. It was so painful to restrain himself, he basically longed to see the blue message appear on his phone.

Sighing, he closed his phone and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was messy, he looked rougher than usual. He guessed that this would happen when the thing you love most is taken away from you.

He brushed his hair slightly with his hands, and put on the rings (Y/n) gave him, the ones he always wears. Grabbing the bouqet he had bought off his bedside table, he closed his hotel room and went out into the dangerous, dangerous hallway.

Paul knew he had fucked everything up when (Y/n) didn't respond to his text. Usually, she'd reply within seconds, always surprising him with her fast replying speed.

If only she was as fast to forgive him.

Something like this happening was inevitable, whether they liked it or not. They were both foolish to think that they'd have a relationship with no fighting whatsoever. Stupid of them.

The thing was, it wasn't only this recent fight that made them like this. No, it was multiple mini fights that just made their frustration build up to the point where they both snapped.

Paul was wrong, he knew that. But he couldn't bring himself to admit it, always so stubborn, both of them. He knew that if he did, he was going to be teased, even though it was the right thing to do.

And after a very heated argument with himself, he'd decided to go apologise to (Y/n). He had promised himself to not get cold feet when he arrived at her hotel room. But as he stood there, a large bouquet in his hands, he felt the urge to run off and never return.

He was already regretting his choice of flowers: white lilies, blue hydrangeas, and a few blue hyacinths thrown in just for the aesthetic. Why'd he chose blue specifically? He'd never know.

The shame and guilt felt heavy on his shoulders, weighing him down as he took a deep breath, finally bringing himself to knock on her door. Two heavy knocks and one light knock, that was their code. Paul slightly regretted doing the secret knock, what if she didn't open the door because she knew it was him?

Stop that, take deep breaths and calm down. He'd told himself, the dread slowly enveloping him the longer (Y/n) took to open the door. It was very dreadful.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she opened the door. Paul had to force himself to not start sobbing from relief. (Y/n) had opened the door! This was one small step for her, but a giant leap for him.

He was brought back to reality by his girlfriend clearing her throat, glaring at him, as if urging him to speak. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, her face a bit paler than usual. Had she been sick? He knew that she got sick easily, and more often than not, he'd find her sniffling and shoving pills into her mouth.

"Uh-hi! How have you been? I....I brought these flowers for you. I know you don't like red roses so I choose against them but then had the weird urge to-"

"Yes, yes. Thank you. Why'd you come here?" (Y/n) cut him off, her tone frustrated, or maybe annoyed. He didn't know why he started talking so much, good job you idiot.

He should've asked Ralf or even Dino for help. This was a bad idea, he already regretted it. Now he'll never be able to get his girlfriend back and she'll never forgive him.

"Paul! What is the matter with you? Speak." He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he forgot about (Y/n) standing infront of him. Ironic.

"Ah, yeah. I just came here to apologise to you, I was an asshole and I knew I was wrong. I am so sorry, kallis," He mentally facepalmed when she raised an eyebrow at that. "I just want you to forgive me, I should have cared and noticed when people were hating on you. I love you so much and don't want to lose you. So please, just forgive me, (Y/n)."

Wow, where'd he pull that from? He should start considering a job in film writing, or even writing books. His lines would probably have people sobbing.

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, her face pulling into an awkward, forced smile. Maybe he should stick to being a racing driver.

"I appreciate all this, Paul. I really do. But..."

But what?!

"You really didn't need to bring flowers, you could've just came and apologised. Thank you."

Paul's anxiety vanished instantly, all hints of the shaking hands he had vanishing. His face formed a grin, his whole body relaxing.

"I-h....I love you so much and I can't deal with losing you again. " He managed to say. His voice shook, as if he was going to cry. He really couldn't lose (Y/n) again.

"I can't either, ange. And I'm sorry, for everything. I love you too." (Y/n) gave him an apologetic smile, and he could see in her eyes that she really meant it.

Paul felt immense happiness flood him, all tension from the past few days disappearing. He wouldn't have known what to do if (Y/n) hadn't forgave him

"So...are we back together?...." Paul trailed off, he really didn't know at this point.

"We broke up?" She said, tilting her head at him.

"Oh... Well, I thought we did. Uh, sorry, it was a stupid question. I don't know what I'm saying." He scratched the back of his head. Great, Paul, you ruined it now

"How have you been?"

"Quite depressed, actually. You really did light up my life," (Y/n)'s eyes widened, and her cheeks were tinted red. He still has the charm. "Well, I have to go now. I have to do the track walk with Amaury. See you around, I guess."

"See you."

He didn't know what to do with his arms, part of him stepped forward to hug her, and part of him raised his hands to wave. (Y/n) sighed and pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back while she laid her head on his chest. His heart was propably beating out of his chest, still not used to the feeling.

Then, he swore he heard her mutter something like 'I missed you'.

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n0vazsq · 3 days ago

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Moon, a hole of light | JB22 x SV5

summary . . . Jenson Button and Sebastian Vettel, one of the most esteemed names in Formula 1. Well, their names held a different story than their behaviour. Mischief, troublemaking and much more came with these two. Will the grid be able to survive?

request . . . yes!

word count . . . 1.6k

warnings . . . cursing

alexavia yaps . . . idk if this is good or not bc i literally just put a bunch of ideas together and hoped it was good </3 i accidentaly deleted the first draft so i lost the authors note and summary dni

2010, it was a year to be in F1. Many legends were on the grid, aswell as new rookies striving for greatness. But there was one pair that stood out more than the others, Jenny and Sebby, as they called themselves.

Jen and Seb, another name for them, were the troublemakers and pranksters of the grid. They were either driving or causing trouble, no in between. They made sure their PR Managers lived in misery and vain, but at least they had fun, right?

"SEBASTIAN VETTEL! COME RIGHT HERE!" Jenson's shout came from his driver's room in Mclaren. Seb, who was waiting around the corner grinned and tried to stifle his laugh as he walked over to the driver's room.

Seb slowly opened the door, trying to hold his laughter at the sight in front of him, but then failing. There stood a red-face Jenson Button, but quite literally. His face and body were stained a bright red, his fists clenched and shaking.

It took all his will to not punch Sebastian right then and there.

You'd think that a 30 year old man and a 23 year old would be mature, and have some common sense, right? Well, if you ever met Seb and Jen, you'd instantly know you were wrong. They were even more immature than a pair of 5 year olds, which was a bit surprising.

"I'm telling you to loosen up my buttons, babe" Sang Sebastian to Jenson, who rolled his eyes and shook his head disappointingly.

"I regret teaching you that this song even existed." He muttered, eyes closed and head in his hands.

"Well, too bad. I've already memorised all of it." Laughed Seb, pointing his finger at Jenson in a taunting manner.

"You did not!" Exclaimed Jenson, his eyes comically wide.

"Yes I did!"

"God, what am I going to do with you?" Jenson sighed, his shoulders deflating.

"Nothing, because you're never getting rid of me!" Seb started skipping around him in circles, singing the lyrics to Buttons by The Pussycat Dolls.

"God please help me."

"A beekeeper?!"Jenson shouted, his jaw almost on the floor.

"What's��wrong with being a beekeeper?" Seb shouted back, his arms going across his chest defensively.

"That's so...adorable and cutesy! It does not fit you!"

"Yes it does!" Seb argued, his voice slightly cracking.

"Does not!"

"Does"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Nuh uh!"

"Shut up!"

"Jeez, way to stop an argument." Jenson laughed, blowing air out of his mouth.

"Fuck off, Jen. You want to be a DILF."

"Why’s my entire table filled with… carrots?" Seb stared at the small mountain of carrots spilling out as he opened his locker.

Jenson strolled into the room, arms crossed, leaning casually against the doorframe with a smirk. "Just making sure you’re eating healthy. Thought you could use a bit of beta-carotene, mate."

Seb rolled his eyes, grabbing a handful of carrots and shoving them into Jenson’s arms. "Fine, but you’re eating them with me. Enjoy your five-a-day."

"Why is there glitter… everywhere?" Jenson asked, his voice barely holding back a mix of rage and laughter as he opened his driver’s bag to find every item coated in a thick layer of sparkles.

Seb was practically bent over in silent laughter, barely able to breathe. "It’s called adding flair, Jen. A little sparkle in your life never hurt."

Jenson held up his helmet, which was covered in glitter, and just shook his head. "You're dead, Vettel. You better start running now."

During one race weekend, Jenson was doing a live interview, being the picture of professionalism, answering questions and playing the PR game as usual. But right on the edge of the frame, Seb popped up wearing a pair of sunglasses and holding a cardboard sign that said, 'Free Hugs from Jenson.'

Without any hint of annoyance or surprise, Jenson smirked at the camera and pointed behind him. "Alright, guys, you heard him. Go find Seb if you want hugs. Might be the only time he’s offering them to the public."

During a fan Q&A, a young fan asked Jenson how he would describe Seb in three words.

Jenson looked at Seb, pretending to be in deep thought. "Hmm… a bee loving menace."

Seb grinned, crossing his arms. "Best description I’ve ever had. What would you be?"

"Easy," Jenson replied with a grin. "Seb’s number one fan."

The audience burst into laughter, and Seb dramatically placed a hand over his heart. “Aww, Jen, you shouldn’t have!"

"Sebastian, what’s your proudest achievement in F1 so far?" a journalist asked during a media day.

Seb was mid-sentence, talking about his wins, when Jenson appeared out of nowhere, a huge smirk on his face. "Oh, I can tell you. It’s definitely pranking me with a cardboard cutout of myself in my hotel room at 3 a.m. Nearly gave me a heart attack."

Seb burst out laughing. "It was life-sized! I figured you’d love the surprise!"

"Oh, I loved it," Jenson replied sarcastically. "Especially when I walked in and saw myself staring back at me. Almost had to call security."

Then there was the time when Seb was asked if he ever got nervous before races.

"No, not really," Seb replied calmly, then paused as Jenson slid into the shot behind him, eyebrows raised.

"Are we forgetting Singapore? 2009? Because I remember somebody pacing around like a madman that morning, muttering something about needing more breakfast."

Seb glared at him, trying to stifle his grin. "I wasn’t nervous! I was… focused."

"Right, focused on finding an extra croissant," Jenson said, leaning into the mic. "He was unstoppable once he got it."

In a rare joint interview, Jenson and Seb sat down with a reporter, who knew that having these two together would be nothing short of entertaining chaos. The interviewer barely got to her first question before things went to chaos.

"So, Jenson," she began with a smile, "how do you and Seb keep such a good dynamic? I mean, you're known as one of the most iconic duos in the paddock, but there's clearly some… competitive spirit there."

Jenson gave a small chuckle, glancing over at Seb, who already had a smug grin. "Well, I think it’s because we’ve both come to terms with the fact that we'll never stop pranking each other."

Seb scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Me? I’m the one who’s just a tiny bit competitive? Remember Monaco, Jen? You may as well have had steam coming out of your ears by the end of that one."

"Don’t act innocent, Seb," Jenson shot back, eyebrows raised. "Who was the one who replaced my car’s steering wheel with a pink one with ‘Princess’ written on it?"

Seb laughed, clearly proud of his prank. "Oh, come on! You did look quite royal with it."

The interviewer was grinning ear to ear, clearly loving their dynamic. "Okay, okay, let’s settle this! What’s the biggest prank you two have pulled on each other?"

Seb’s eyes sparkled, leaning forward like he’d been waiting for this question."That’s easy. Spain, last season. He had this brand new helmet design he’d been bragging about for weeks. It had all these fancy graphics, and he wouldn’t stop talking about it."

Jenson’s eyes widened as he realized what Seb was about to reveal. "Don’t you dare, Seb!"

"Oh, I’m telling them," Seb said, grinning. "So, I may have… slightly changed his helmet."

"Slightly?" Jenson cut in, exasperated. "You replaced my name with a cartoon donkey and slapped a rainbow on it!"

Seb was barely able to keep a straight face. "And it looked amazing. He didn’t realize it until he was already at the track, visor down, ready for the press photos."

Jenson shook his head, grinning despite himself. "Every photographer at the track got a picture of that disaster. You know how hard it was to live that down?"

The interviewer was in stitches, barely able to get her next question out. "Alright, Jenson, what’s the biggest prank you’ve pulled on Seb?"

"Oh, this one was good," Jenson said, rubbing his hands together like he was planning a grand scheme. "It was right before Silverstone, and Seb had just gotten this new superstitious thing about his driver’s suit. Something about ‘needing it perfectly creased’ for luck."

Seb rolled his eyes. "Don’t remind me."

"So, I… may have swapped his suit with one that was three sizes too small and had bright neon green stitching." Jenson shrugged, feigning innocence. "I figured if he really needed luck, he’d work with whatever he had."

Seb slapped his forehead, laughing. "I couldn’t even breathe in that thing! I walked around like a robot all morning until someone finally told me where he’d put my actual suit."

The interviewer chuckled, leaning in. "Do you two ever get tired of the pranks? I mean, don’t they ever just get exhausting?"

Seb and Jenson exchanged a look, then shook their heads in unison.

"It’s like an unspoken rule at this point," Jenson explained. "He pranks me, I prank him back. Keeps things interesting. And the paddock seems to find it entertaining." (he push me i push him back)

Seb nodded, adding, "And, hey, it makes those PR events a little less boring. Like that one event in Monaco where he wouldn’t stop complaining about the heat, so I ‘helped’ by swapping his water bottle with sparkling lemonade. Thought he’d appreciate the upgrade."

Jenson shot Seb a look. "Upgrade? Seb, it was carbonated. I sprayed half of it all over my suit before I realized it."

"Good times," Seb said, smiling like it was a fond memory.

The interviewer’s eyes twinkled with excitement as she moved on to her next question. "Alright, last one! If you could describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?"

Seb tapped his chin, pretending to think deeply. "Oh, that’s easy. Jenson is the most patient man on the planet… for putting up with me."

Jenson laughed, leaning back in his chair. "You got that right."

"And what about you, Jenson?" the interviewer asked, curious.

Jenson looked at Seb with a playful glint in his eye. "Sebastian Vettel… the grid’s biggest headache, but somehow my best friend."

Seb looked mock offended. "Hey, I prefer ‘legendary troublemaker.’"

They both burst out laughing, and the interviewer shook her head, thoroughly entertained. "Alright, I think we’ve got enough stories to keep F1 fans laughing for weeks!"

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