Out like a light (part 1) -fluff, bf¡Lando x Reader
Summery: Lando loves cuddles….. max not so much
—- Out like a light (part 2) -fluff, bf¡Lando x Reader
Summery: Max strategically moves his stream, learning for the last time, but Lando still crashes it
Since Before The Titles -fluff/partyin, bf¡Lando x Reader
Summery: Lando can’t wait to party and celebrate his WDC with his girlfriend who has been there since the start.
Just Out Of Frame -fluff, bf¡Lando x Reader
Summery: Lando starts his stream with max but there’s someone who steals the show, just by sleeping.
Sleepy Streamy -fluff, bf¡Lando x Reader
Summery: Lando is streaming with max when his Portuguese girlfriend since childhood comes to cuddle.
Yacht Stream Chaos -fluff, bf¡Lando x Reader
Summery: Lando, Max Fewtrell and his girlfriend pietra all decide to have a little boat day. Max goes live on twitch and Lando’s son Winslow decides to make a guest appearance!
Written Differently -fluff, bf¡Lando x Reader
Summery: Dyslexia makes reading and writing hard, but being loved never is
Backround Noise -fluff, bf¡Lando x Reader
Summery: the time Drive to Survive airs, it’s never the things the cameras are meant to catch that send the internet into meltdown. It’s the background noise.
On call- fluff, Lando x Reader x Oscar
Summery: When a university networking event becomes overwhelming, she texts the only two people who never hesitate to come for her
Soft launch, Hard love- fluff, bf¡Lando x Reader
Summery: Fans catch Lando’s girlfriend in the background of his stream, and his instant softening says everything.
Game over - fluff, bf¡Lando x Reader
Summery: After losing a bet, you’re forced to play a horror game on stream with Lando and Max — until things go too far and Lando has to comfort you live on camera.
Oscar Piastri:
On call- fluff, Lando x Reader x Oscar
Summery: When a university networking event becomes overwhelming, she texts the only two people who never hesitate to come for her
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Hi can you do a lando secret hook-up, we shouldnt be doing this type of fic where the reader is oscars sister and then oscar catches them?
My secret, his sister
The paddock had rules.
Some spoken. Some silent.
And then there were the rules nobody ever dared say out loud like the one about not getting involved with your teammate’s family.
Especially when that teammate was Oscar Piastri.
And especially when the family in question was his younger sister.
You.
The whole thing had started accidentally. At least, that’s what Lando Norris kept telling himself. It wasn’t supposed to happen.
Not after the barbecue at Oscar’s apartment in Monaco six months ago. Not after Oscar had casually introduced you like it was nothing.
"My sister’s visiting for a few weeks."
Lando remembered looking up from his phone expecting... He didn’t know what he expected.
Someone annoying. Someone impossible. Someone he could politely tolerate for ten minutes before escaping.
Instead, there was you. Twenty-one. Sharp eyes. Quick smile. The kind of confidence that wasn’t loud, but dangerous anyway. You hadn’t acted impressed by Formula 1. Hadn’t cared that he was Lando Norris.
Actually, you’d laughed at him. Properly laughed. “You crashed your golf cart into a hedge?” you’d asked.
Lando pointed defensively. “Okay, first of all it was one time.”
Oscar, from the kitchen, had muttered. “It was definitely not one time.”
And somehow, impossibly, that became the start of everything.
At first it was harmless. Texts. Memes. Late-night arguments about movies.
You teasing him relentlessly.
Him pretending not to care when you ignored him for hours.
Then came race weekends.
You started appearing occasionally. Sometimes with Oscar. Sometimes alone.
And Lando hated how much he looked for you. How his mood shifted the second he spotted you in the garage. How your smile somehow made terrible qualifying sessions survivable. He hated even more how wrong it felt.
Because Oscar trusted him. Completely. Teammates. Friends. And Oscar had no idea. Not when Lando started lingering after dinners. Not when he volunteered to “walk you back” to your hotel. Not when your conversations stretched until 2 a.m. on balconies overlooking city lights. Not when his hand brushed yours for the first time. And stayed there.
The first almost-kiss happened in Singapore. Rainy night. Humidity thick enough to breathe.
You’d been sitting in the hotel lounge after Oscar had gone upstairs early.
Lando still in team gear, exhausted after media.
You were laughing at something stupid he said.
Actually laughing.
Head tipped back.
And then suddenly. Silence. The kind that shifts. Changes shape.
His eyes dropped to your mouth.
Yours flicked up to his.
Too close. Dangerously close.
“We shouldn’t,” you whispered.
“Probably not.”
Neither of you moved.
Then Oscar texted. And the moment shattered. After that, things got worse.
Or better.
Depending on who was suffering. Because now there was tension. Heavy tension. The kind that sat between every conversation. Every accidental touch. Every glance held too long. And neither of you said anything.
Until Silverstone. Rain delayed practice. Oscar disappeared into meeting with his race engineer.
You found Lando alone in hospitality.
“I’m tired of pretending,” you said quietly.
He blinked. “What?”
You crossed your arms. “This weird thing where we act like we don’t want to—”
You stopped.
He looked at you carefully. “Want to what?”
“You know exactly what.”
God.
The way you looked at him nearly ended him.
“You’re Oscar’s sister,” he said.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“That is the question.”
Your expression softened. “Lando.”
Dangerous. The way you said his name. Soft. Quiet. Like it meant something.
“I like you,” you admitted.
And suddenly the room felt too small. Too warm. Too impossible.
Because he liked you too. Far too much. More than he should. Enough that he knew this would become a disaster.
Yet somehow. He stepped closer anyway. “You make this incredibly difficult,” he murmured.
You smiled. “You’re not exactly helping.”
And finally, finally he kissed you. Quick. Careful. Like he was testing whether this was real.
Then again. Longer. Like he’d been wanting to for months. Which he had.
The secret started after that. Private dinners. Hidden hotel hallways. Late-night messages nobody could ever see.
Oscar completely oblivious.
Or so you thought.
And somehow that made everything more thrilling. More dangerous.
The secrecy wrapped around the two of you until it became its own language. Little looks across paddocks. Hands brushing when nobody watched. Lando stealing moments whenever he could.
“You’re impossible,” you whispered one evening in Monaco.
He leaned against the kitchen counter. “You like impossible.”
“I like trouble.”
“Same thing.” He grinned.
You hated how much that grin worked on you.
Tonight was supposed to be simple.
Oscar had gone out with friends, would be gone for hours.
He shouldn’t have come over. Definitely shouldn’t have answered the door when Lando texted. Miss you. Open the door beautiful.
And absolutely shouldn’t have let him pull you into oscar's hotel suite.
Yet here you were. Music low. City lights glowing outside. The air thick with something dangerous.
“You know,” he said quietly, stepping closer, “one day he’s absolutely going to kill me.”
You laughed softly. “He’d have to catch us first.”
The look he gave you made your stomach flip. “Oh, confident now?”
“You’re dramatic.”
“Says the Piastri.”
You shoved his shoulder.
He caught your wrist. Gentle. Slow. And suddenly— Everything shifted.
Again. The teasing faded. The room quieter now. Smaller. His thumb brushed your hand.
“You ever think,” he said softly, “maybe this is a terrible idea?”
“All the time.”
“And?”
You stepped closer. “So why are you still standing over there?”
His breath caught. God.
You really had no idea what you did to him. Or maybe you did?
Because your smile turned just slightly smug.
And then he crossed the room.
Hands carefully settling at your waist.
Like he was still asking permission.
Always asking.
You tilted your head up.
“Kiss me,” you murmured.
He did. Slow at first. Then not. Weeks of restraint melting into something messier. Something reckless.
You laughed quietly when he nearly walked you backward into the couch.
“That smooth, Norris?”
“Shut up.”
Another kiss. Warmer. Closer. His forehead rested against yours.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted.
“Try being me.”
The tension curled tighter. His hand brushing your side.
Your fingers catching lightly in the fabric of his shirt.
The world narrowing to closeness and warmth and the dangerous thrill of knowing you absolutely should not be doing this. A laugh escaped you as he leaned in again.
“Still think this is a terrible idea?” you whispered.
“Yes.”
Another kiss.
“But I’m ignoring that.”
Your hand moved to the collar of his shirt.
His breath caught.
“Careful,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“You make bad decisions seem really appealing.”
And just as the room shifted into something heavier, a voice from the doorway said flatly:
“…What exactly am I looking at?”
Silence.
Pure silence.
You froze.
Lando froze.
Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
You both turned.
Oscar stood there.
Still holding his hotel keycard.
Completely expressionless.
Which was somehow worse.
Far worse.
His eyes moved from you
To Lando
To the very obvious situation unfolding in front of him. Then back again.
“…Lando,” Oscar said slowly.
Lando looked like a man witnessing his own funeral.
i knowwww ur request are really full rn but if i don’t send this now ill forget. so. as a society i think we need party girl/no shame/horny asf leclerc youngest sister reader x lando. where she’s lowk just traumatizing the hell out of her brothers while lando fights for his life
No Shame, No Regrets
Lando Norris x Leclerc!reader
Synopsis: She's confident, unapologetic, and relentlessly flirty. Zero filter, maximum chaos - meet baby Leclerc.
Moonlight Radio: and yes my requests are practically bursting at the seems but I really enjoyed writing this one - I hope u like it!
The Monaco Grand Prix paddock was buzzing with its usual energy-team personnel rushing between motorhomes, journalists hunting for quotes, and drivers navigating the controlled chaos. Charles Leclerc was mid-conversation with his engineer when he heard it.
That laugh.
His head whipped around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Sure enough, there she was: Y/N Leclerc, his youngest sister, wearing a sundress that was perfectly appropriate yet somehow still made him want to throw a blanket over her, leaning against the McLaren hospitality area like she owned the place.
And she was talking to Lando Norris.
"-honestly think it's the way you handle the curves," Y/N was saying, her voice carrying just enough for Charles to catch it. "Very... smooth. Controlled. I appreciate a man who knows exactly what he's doing with his hands."
Lando's eyes widened slightly, a grin tugging at his lips. "I—are we still talking about driving?"
"Are we?" Y/N tilted her head, her smile absolutely wicked. "I was definitely talking about driving, Lando. What did you think I meant?"
Charles felt his eye twitch. That was his sister. Talking to his friend. About... he didn't even want to know.
"Y/N," he called out, his voice strained.
She turned, her expression brightening. "Charlie! I was just complimenting Lando on his performance. He's been doing so well this season, don't you think? Really... hard work paying off."
The way she said 'hard' should be illegal.
Lando coughed, clearly fighting back laughter. "Hey, mate. Your sister was just—"
"I heard what my sister was doing," Charles interrupted, his jaw tight. He switched to French, directing his words at Y/N. "What are you doing here?"
She responded in English, because of course she did. "Supporting my favorite driver, obviously."
"I'm your brother."
"I said what I said." She turned back to Lando, whose shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. "Anyway, I should let you get back to... whatever it is you do to prepare. Stretching? I bet you're very flexible."
"Oh my God," Charles muttered.
"I do yoga sometimes," Lando offered, because apparently he had a death wish.
"Do you?" Y/N's eyes lit up. "I'd love to see your downward dog sometime."
"I'm leaving," Charles announced. "Y/N, you're coming with me."
"I'm twenty-three, Charles."
"I don't care if you're forty-three, you're not—" He gestured vaguely at Lando, who was now openly grinning. "This. You're not doing this."
"Doing what? Having a conversation?" Y/N's expression was pure innocence. "Lando doesn't mind. Do you, Lando?"
Lando looked between the two siblings, clearly weighing his options. Self-preservation lost to entertainment value. "I mean, it's a free paddock."
Charles pointed at him. "You. Stop encouraging her."
"I'm not encouraging anything! She's just-“
"Very friendly," Y/N finished. "It's called being personable, Charles. You should try it sometime." She patted her brother's cheek and walked away, calling over her shoulder, "See you around, Norris!"
Lando watched her go, then turned to Charles with barely contained amusement. "Your sister is-“
"Don't," Charles warned. "Whatever you're about to say, don't."
"I was going to say 'funny.'"
"That's not what she's trying to be."
"Oh, I know." Lando's grin was absolutely shit-eating. "Mate, you look like you're about to have an aneurysm."
"I might," Charles admitted. "She's going to be here all weekend."
"Is she?" Lando looked far too pleased about that information.
Charles pointed at him again. "Stay away from my sister."
"She approached me!"
"Then run away next time!"
—
The next morning, Lando was reviewing data in the McLaren garage when someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned to find Y/N holding two coffee cups, wearing jeans and a McLaren-orange crop top that he was absolutely certain she'd chosen specifically to torment her brother.
"Morning," she said brightly. "Brought you coffee. Flat white, right? I asked around."
"You asked around about my coffee order?"
"I'm thorough." She handed him the cup, her fingers brushing his deliberately. "How'd you sleep?"
"Fine?" It came out as a question. Lando glanced around the garage, noting several mechanics suddenly very interested in their work while clearly eavesdropping. "Did you need something?"
"Just wanted to wish you luck for practice. And tell you that I think you're going to do really well this weekend." She leaned against his workstation. "You've got great... stamina. For the long races, I mean. Very impressive endurance."
One of the mechanics dropped a wrench.
Lando bit his lip, trying not to laugh. "Thanks? That's... yeah, endurance is important in racing."
"In lots of things," Y/N agreed solemnly.
"Y/N!" Charles's voice carried across the garage like the wrath of God. He appeared moments later, looking like he'd aged five years overnight. "Why are you in the McLaren garage?"
"Bringing Lando coffee. Want some? Oh wait, you're Ferrari. Guess you're stuck with their coffee. Shame."
"Can I talk to you?" Charles didn't wait for an answer, taking her elbow. "Privately?"
"We're just talking, Charles."
"You're not just talking, you're-" He seemed to struggle for words. "You're doing that thing you do!"
"What thing?" Y/N's innocence was Oscar-worthy.
"The thing where you-" Charles glanced at Lando, then lowered his voice. "Can you please not flirt with my friends in their workplace?"
"I'm networking."
"That's not networking!"
"Fine, I'm shooting my shot. Is that better?"
Charles looked like he wanted to scream. "He's my friend!"
"So I have good taste. It runs in the family." She patted his chest. "Relax, Charlie. I'm just having fun. Besides, Lando doesn't seem to mind." She looked past Charles to where Lando was definitely listening while pretending not to. "Do you, Lando?"
Lando knew the correct answer. The safe answer. The answer that would preserve his friendship with Charles and prevent any awkwardness.
"I mean, the coffee's good," he said instead.
Charles turned to glare at him. "You're not helping."
"I'm just being honest!"
"Be less honest!" Charles turned back to Y/N. "You. Ferrari motorhome. Now."
"So demanding," Y/N sighed. "Fine. But for the record, I'm an adult and you can't actually tell me what to do." She wiggled her fingers at Lando. "Bye, Lando. Love watching you work."
After they left, one of the mechanics sidled up to Lando. "Mate, Charles is going to murder you."
"Probably," Lando agreed, taking a sip of the coffee. "But did you see his face? Totally worth it."
—
In the Ferrari motorhome, Charles was pacing while Y/N sat on the couch, examining her nails.
"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Charles demanded.
"I'm trying to get laid, actually, but sure, let's make it about you."
"Y/N!"
"What?" She looked up at him. "You're acting like I'm doing something crazy. I think Lando's hot. I'm making my interest known. This is normal human behavior."
"Not in the paddock! Not with my friends! Not-" He gestured frantically. "Not like that!"
"Like what?"
"Like you're... you're..." Charles struggled. "You told him you wanted to see his downward dog!"
"I do. I bet he's very bendy."
Charles made a noise like a dying animal. "Please. Please, Y/N. Have mercy on me."
"Charlie." She stood up, her expression softening slightly. "I love you. You're my big brother and you're amazing. But you don't get to police who I'm attracted to or how I express that attraction."
"I'm not trying to police you, I'm trying to save myself from having to hear my baby sister talk about-" He shuddered. "I can't even say it."
"Sex?" Y/N supplied helpfully.
"Stop!"
"Charles, I'm going to say this once: I like Lando. He's funny, he's cute, and he seems into it. I'm going to continue shooting my shot. You can either accept that or spend the whole weekend stressed." She headed for the door, then paused. "Also, for what it's worth? He has really nice hands. Like, really nice. I bet he's great at—"
"GET OUT!"
Y/N's laughter echoed down the hallway.
—
That night, Lando was heading back to his hotel room after dinner when he heard his name. He turned to find Y/N leaning against the wall near his door, wearing a little black dress that made his brain short-circuit slightly.
"Do you just... lurk in hallways?" he asked.
"Only when I'm hunting," she said with a grin. "Good dinner?"
"It was fine. How did you know which room was mine?"
"I have my ways." She pushed off the wall, moving closer. "Want to know a secret?"
"I feel like I shouldn't say yes to that."
"Charles's room is two doors down."
Lando's eyes widened. "Why would you tell me that?"
"Because I think it's funny how nervous it makes you." She was close enough now that he could smell her perfume. "You're not actually scared of my brother, are you?"
"Terrified," Lando admitted. "He's very intense when he wants to be."
"So am I." Her voice dropped lower. "When I want something."
"Y/N..." Lando's voice came out rougher than intended. "What are you doing?"
"Right now? Trying to figure out if you're interested or just being polite because I'm Charles's sister."
"Can't it be both?"
She laughed, the sound genuine and warm. "I like you, Lando. You're funny. You don't take yourself too seriously. And you've got this whole thing-" She gestured vaguely at him. "—that really works for me."
"What thing?"
"The slightly chaotic, definitely charming, probably-trouble-but-in-a-fun-way thing."
"That's a lot of hyphens."
"You're deflecting."
"I'm processing," Lando corrected. "Your brother is two doors down, you're standing here looking like that, and I'm trying to figure out if this is a test."
"It's not a test. It's an invitation."
"To?"
"Whatever you want it to be." She stepped back, giving him space. "But no pressure. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know that I'm genuinely interested. Not just messing around to annoy Charles, though that's a fun bonus."
Lando studied her for a moment. She was beautiful, obviously, but there was something else-a confidence, a directness that he found incredibly attractive. "You're serious."
"Completely."
"And you don't care that Charles might actually kill me?"
"He won't. He'll threaten to, but he won't." She smiled. "Besides, I'm very good at protecting what's mine."
"I'm yours now?"
"Not yet. But I'm patient." She started walking backward down the hall. "Sleep well, Norris. Dream of me."
"You're ridiculous," he called after her.
"You're smiling!"
He was. He really, really was.
—
The team dinner the following night was supposed to be a nice, civilized affair. Key word: supposed.
Lando arrived to find Y/N already seated, strategically positioned between an empty chair (which he suspected was meant for him) and across from Charles and her other brother—Arthur, who looked equally uncomfortable.
"Lando!" Y/N brightened. "Saved you a seat."
Charles's fork clattered against his plate.
"Thanks," Lando said, because what else could he do? He sat down, very aware of Charles's death stare from across the table.
"So," Y/N said conversationally as she reached for her wine, "Lando, I was thinking about what you said earlier about racing lines."
He hadn't said anything about racing lines.
"About how important it is to find the right entry point?" she continued innocently.
Arthur choked on his water.
"And how you have to be patient, wait for the right moment, and then commit fully once you're sure?"
"Y/N," Charles said warningly.
"What? I'm talking about racing." She turned to Lando. "Isn't that what you said?"
Lando was trying so hard not to laugh. "I... might have said something like that."
"I thought so. It's good advice. Applicable to lots of situations." She took a sip of wine. "Like overtaking, for example. You have to be confident, decisive. Really go for the gap."
"Oh my God," Arthur muttered.
"And the way you handle pressure," Y/N continued, her expression perfectly innocent. "Very impressive. You stay so calm even when things get intense. That's a valuable skill."
Charles was gripping his fork like a weapon.
"Some people fall apart under pressure," she mused. "But you? You seem like you'd be very... composed. Very focused. Even in high-stress situations."
"Y/N, I swear to God-" Charles started.
"What? I'm complimenting his driving!" She looked around the table. "Why is everyone being weird?"
"You know exactly why," Arthur said.
"Do I?" She turned back to Lando, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Lando, do you feel uncomfortable?"
He should say yes. He should absolutely say yes.
"I feel like I'm in danger," he said instead, "but not uncomfortable."
Y/N's smile was radiant. "See? He's fine."
"I'm not fine," Charles interjected. "None of this is fine."
"Charlie, you need to relax. You're going to give yourself an ulcer." Y/N reached for the bread basket. "Besides, I'm just making conversation. If your mind is going somewhere inappropriate, that's on you."
"My mind isn't-you're deliberately-" Charles looked at Arthur for support.
Arthur held up his hands. "I'm staying out of this."
"Coward," Charles muttered.
The dinner continued in much the same fashion, with Y/N making increasingly suggestive comments disguised as innocent observations, Charles slowly dying inside, Arthur pretending to be invisible, and Lando caught between amusement and genuine fear for his life.
By the time dessert arrived, Charles looked like he'd aged another five years.
"You know what I appreciate about you, Lando?" Y/N said, scraping the last of her tiramisu from the plate.
"I'm almost afraid to ask," Lando admitted.
"You've got a great sense of humor. You don't take things too seriously. Life's too short to be uptight all the time." She glanced meaningfully at Charles. "Some people could learn from that."
"Some people don't have to watch their baby sister openly flirt with their friends," Charles shot back.
"I'm not a baby, I'm twenty-three."
"You're still my baby sister!"
"That's a you problem, not a me problem."
Arthur stood up abruptly. "I'm going to the bathroom. For a long time. Maybe forever."
After he left, Y/N leaned closer to Lando. "Want to get out of here? There's a club nearby. Much better atmosphere than... this." She gestured at Charles's miserable face.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Lando said, even as he was already mentally saying yes.
"It's a great idea. Charles can come too if he wants to chaperone."
"I'm not chaperoning anything," Charles said firmly. "I'm going back to the hotel to drink and forget this dinner happened."
"Your loss." Y/N stood, smoothing down her dress. "Lando?"
He looked at Charles, who was shaking his head frantically. Then he looked at Y/N, who was smiling like she'd already won.
"One drink," Lando said, standing up.
Charles dropped his head into his hands. "I need new friends."
—
The club was packed, the music loud enough to feel in your chest. Y/N had dragged Lando straight to the VIP section, where several other drivers and their friends were already celebrating the weekend.
"Want a drink?" she asked, leaning close to be heard over the music.
"I'll get them," Lando offered.
"Such a gentleman." She touched his arm. "Vodka soda, please."
When he returned with their drinks, she'd claimed a small section of the couch. He sat next to her, very aware of how close they were.
"So," she said, taking a sip of her drink, "are we going to keep dancing around this, or are you going to admit you're interested?"
"Pretty sure of yourself."
"I am. But I'm also right." She angled toward him. "You've been flirting back all weekend."
"I've been trying not to die."
"You can do both." She set her drink down. "Dance with me."
"That's not a question."
"No, it's not."
On the dance floor, with the music pounding and the lights flashing, things felt different. Less performative. More real.
"Can I ask you something?" Lando said, his hands on her waist.
"Anything."
"Is this really just to mess with Charles, or...?"
Y/N's expression softened. "You think I'd put this much effort in just to annoy my brother? I mean, it's a fantastic bonus, don't get me wrong. But no." She looped her arms around his neck. "I think you're genuinely great. You're funny, you're talented, you don't take yourself too seriously. And you're hot, which doesn't hurt."
"Very romantic."
"I'm not trying to be romantic. I'm trying to be honest." She bit her lip. "I like you, Lando. For real. Not as a joke, not as a game. I like you."
Something in Lando's chest loosened. "I like you too. Even though you're absolutely insane."
"Especially because I'm insane," she corrected.
"That too." He pulled her closer. "Your brother really is going to kill me."
"Probably. But what a way to go."
"You're terrible."
"You like it."
"I really do."
She kissed him then, and it was nothing like the careful, tentative first kisses he'd had before. This was confident, sure, a little bit reckless-exactly like her.
When they broke apart, she was grinning. "So, was it worth the risk?"
"Ask me after I survive the week."
"Y/N MARIE LECLERC!"
They both turned to find Charles and Arthur standing at the edge of the dance floor, looking like avenging angels.
"Oh shit," Lando muttered.
"Relax." Y/N didn't even look concerned. "Charlie! Arthur! Want to dance?"
"We want to talk," Charles said, his voice tight. "Now."
They moved to a quieter corner, though 'quiet' was relative. Charles looked like he was vibrating with the effort of staying calm.
"Are you serious right now?" he demanded, looking between them.
"Very," Y/N said simply.
"You—" Charles pointed at Lando. "You kissed my sister."
"Technically, she kissed me."
"NOT HELPING!"
"Charles." Y/N stepped forward. "I'm an adult. Lando's an adult. We like each other. You don't get a vote."
"He's my friend!"
"And I'm your sister. So either you accept this, or you spend the next however-long being miserable while we date anyway." She crossed her arms. "Your choice."
Charles looked at Arthur, who shrugged. "She's got a point."
"You're supposed to be on my side!"
"I am on your side. I'm also a realist." Arthur clapped Charles on the shoulder. "She's going to do what she wants. She always does."
Charles turned back to them, his expression pained. "I can't believe this is happening."
"Believe it," Y/N said cheerfully. "Oh, and Charlie? You might want to invest in noise-canceling headphones. Hotel walls are thin."
"Y/N!" Charles looked genuinely horrified.
"I'm kidding! Mostly." She grabbed Lando's hand. "Come on, let's get another drink."
As they walked away, Lando heard Arthur say, "At least she's happy?"
And Charles's response: "I hate everything."
Lando looked down at Y/N, who was grinning like she'd won the lottery. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Yeah," she agreed happily. "But you're going to have fun dying."
Summary - You and Harry's little boy is a carbon copy of his dad.
Pairing - Dad!Harry Lewis x Reader
Warnings - Just fluff.
Word Count - 1.9k
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
When you found out that you were pregnant it was a shock. Not because you didn’t want a baby with Harry, you just weren’t necessarily trying but not preventing either. Harry joked a lot about teaching the baby the wrong things on purpose, green would be blue, red would be yellow, just typical Harry things.
People knew he’d be a good dad, he’s just always had that air around him. Everyone knew he’d be amazing when the baby was a bit older, old enough to roughhouse with, to ragebait, to take out on hikes, to the farm, to play football. Throughout your pregnancy he surprised everyone, he was so attentive, always checking on you especially if he was away filming. He’d always have a hand on your bump, jokingly telling the baby off if they kicked too hard, he’d update you on what size of fruit the baby was, what was developing each week.
And when baby Freddie was born you fell in love with him all over again. He didn’t flinch at changing the nappies, although the first shitty nappy in the hospital made him gag, you couldn’t laugh too much for fear your insides would fall out. He didn’t care if Freddie peed on him, spit up on him, just wiped it off and changed his top. He did all he could during the nights, made sure you had water, snacks, extra pillows, whatever you needed while breastfeeding. As Freddie grew, the more and more like Harry he got.
Your perfect little boy with the same laugh as his dad, same messy blonde hair, same blue eyes, same carefree, fearless attitude. He loved being outdoors with Harry, climbing trees, jumping in puddles, going to the farm to feed the chickens and goats. His mannerisms were all Harry too. The amount of times when he was learning to speak you had to correct him.
If Harry called for you, Freddie parroted.
“Beb, milk.” Or “More, please, beb.”
“I’m mummy, not babe.”
Whenever Harry would take him out to play football or golf, Harry would stop and kiss your forehead before leaving, Freddie would copy.
Whenever you served up dinner, Freddie and Harry sat at the dining table, Harry would squeeze your hand with a ‘thank you, darling.’ Freddie would copy with a ‘Fanks you, darling’.
Too many times you’d be chilling inside while Freddie and Harry play football out in the garden, only to nearly have a heart attack when one of them boots a football at the window, or the time Freddie was practicing his golf and Harry hadn’t noticed he was aiming right for the kitchen window. It ended up smashed and you had to get someone out to fix it asap. Freddie and Harry both had matching looks of guilt on their faces, and all Harry had to say was ‘it was a good shot, to be fair’.
It’s so unbelievably cute that Freddie is just like his dad, looks and personality. No worries, you only carried him for nine months, dealt with morning sickness, aches and pains, and then went through hours of labour to bring him into the world.
Really though, you’re incredibly lucky that Freddie is Harry’s mini me, incredibly chill, so brave, so funny, and just like Harry, he loves cuddles from you. So often the three of you will be watching some cartoon or film, and you’ll have Harry on one side running your fingers through his hair and Freddie on the other wanting you to tickle his back..
At four years old, Freddie loves doing everything with Harry, especially golf, it's time for just the two of them. He loves doing anything with his dad to be fair, wether it's watching the football together, playing football in the garden, hide and seek (Harry definitely doesn't hide in obvious places to give your son a chance in finding him). He even loves dressing like him, the sports shorts, hoodies. Harry even got a toddler sized blue Sidemen hoodie made for Freddie so they could match.
Harry had decided to take Freddie out to the driving range today, the heat wave was finally dying down which meant it wasn’t too hot for the four year old to be outside for extended periods of time. The few days being overly cautious with how long Freddie was outside, what times he was outside, making sure he had enough water, enough suncream had driven your little boy crazy, but trying to explain to him that it’s near 35 degrees and actually a bit too hot and there was risk of heat stroke, heat exhaustion and sunburn was like trying to explain algebra to him.
The boys going out for the afternoon meant you could have some ‘me time’. Maybe a nice bath, maybe order in something nice for lunch that Freddie won’t want to try half of, maybe sunbathing in the garden without risk of a football smacking you in the face.
God, life with boys is always eventful. You love your boys, but you love the quiet time too.
Harry’s waiting for Freddie to come down, your boy in that stage of stubborn independence and insisting he get himself ready.
“D’you have his water bottle?” You ask, going through your mental checklist of things he might need.
“Yes, I have his water bottle” Harry replies, looking at you like ‘woman, I know what I’m doing’.
“Snacks?”
“Yes, I have snacks.”
“Suncream?”
“You just covered him in it before he went to get dressed, we’re not going to be away for hours.”
Harry comes over to you, taking your face in his hands. “Relax, I have his water, I have snacks, he’s nearly a ghost with how much suncream you’ve put on him. I’ve got his hat, he knows to step back when I take a swing. You can turn your brain off.”
“Do you have a water bottle and suncream on?”
“Oh my days, woman,” Harry shakes his head, using one hand to squish your cheeks together to make you pout. “Stop worrying, I’ve got everything.”
You couldn’t reply even if you had one. Sometimes you forget to just not be mum for a moment. When Harry takes Freddie out, you’re always under strict instruction to relax, do something that doesn’t involve grocery shopping, tidying up, doing the washing, or anything child related.
“I’m ready!” Freddie shouts from the top of the stairs, his little legs taking the stairs one at a time.
He comes into the living room beaming with pride that he’d picked his outfit and gotten himself ready all on his own, and to be fair, he’s done a good job. He looks so smart with his red nike polo, black shorts, he has his white trainers in one hand and his hat in the other.
Now you see why he insisted on waiting until Harry was ready before he got ready himself. Harry has his own red Nike polo on, black shorts and white trainers on.
“I copied daddy!” He says so proudly it melts your heart.
“Aw, looking smart, mate.” Harry automatically kneels down and plops Freddie onto the couch to help him with his shoes.
“You look so cute, Freddie. Good job on getting yourself ready.”
“Thank you, mummy. I got the same top, and the same shorts, b-but I couldn’t get the same shoes, cause- cause daddy has the- the golf ones, so I just picked white ones.” He does the same thing as Harry, stutters a little when he gets over excited or talks quicker than his brain catches up.
Two peas in a pod.
“You do look just like daddy,” you compliment, kneeling down to fix the buttons on his polo. He’s got the top button in the bottom hole, but other than that, he’s perfect.
“Right then, ready to go, mate?”
“Yep,” Freddie hops up, “I’m gonna hit the ball sooo far! But don’t worry mummy, no more smashed windows.”
“Exactly, baby, that’s why you go to the driving range now.” You chuckle.
It’s one thing you’re quite proud of, that when Freddie does something wrong or something he could get in trouble for, he’s not scared to tell you. When the window was smashed, you made sure that he knew it wasn’t great, but it could be fixed, and that any time in the future he’s practicing in the garden he aims away from the windows. No tears, no crying apologies, just talking to him and helping him understand. And, well, Harry should have noticed he was aiming towards the house.
“I’ll pick us up lunch on the way back,” Harry says, standing up to give you a kiss goodbye. As always he gives you a soft peck on the lips and pats your bum. Then moves over so Freddie can have a hug and a kiss goodbye. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” You kneel down to wrap Freddie in a hug, kissing the side of his head. “Make sure you drink plenty, okay? It’s still very warm outside.”
“I know, mummy.” He has the exact same look as Harry did not two minutes ago. The ‘I know, I’m a big boy’ look. Then he does something he’s never done before. After he kisses your cheek, he reaches round and pats your bum just like Harry did.
You stop a little shocked for a moment, trying not to laugh. Harry also has that look on his face, shoulders shaking as he laughs quietly.
“You, my boy, are too much like your daddy sometimes,” you chuckle.
Freddie has no idea why the adults are laughing but he starts laughing too.
To be fair, you can’t fault him. Harry does it all the time. If you’re leaning over to get something, he’s patting or smacking your bum. If he has to brush past you, he pats or smacks your bum. If you’re walking up the stairs behind Harry you either pinch or smack his bum. And when Freddie was a baby, even now sometimes, and upset, you’d calm him by rocking him and patting his bum.
But, you’d much rather Freddie grow up to say ‘ew, stop flirting’, than ‘please, stop fighting’.
You and Harry aren’t perfect by any means, but if there’s one thing you’re proud of is that Freddie will never see or hear you shouting at each other, spewing insults, cursing and swearing at each other. He might fake gag whenever you flirt or kiss one another, or are affectionate with one another, but you’d prefer that over the former any day.
“I like being like daddy.” Freddie says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Harry’s his hero. If Harry’s playing golf, he wants to too. If Harry’s watching the football with his feet up and a beer in hand, Freddie’s got his feet up and juice in his own plastic half-pint cup. If Harry’s chilling with no top on, Freddie’s is off too.
“I know you do.” You smile, brushing a hand through his hair.
“Ready to go then, mate?” Harry asks, fixing Freddie’s hat on top of his head.
“Yep!”
The two head out to the front door, Freddie babbling excitedly about how one day he’s going to hit the ball further than Harry when he stops, letting out a loud “Wait!”
He comes barrelling back towards you, little arms wrapping around your waist. “Almost forgot! Love you mummy, see you soon.”
Then he runs straight back to Harry, heading out for some father son time.
when someone leaks that oscar piastri is a young father, oscar feels like his whole world is about to cave in as he tries to protect you and your daughter.
oscar piastri x f!reader ୨୧ warnings : language, fan culture, tabloids/hate comments, invasion of privacy ୨୧ note : n e ways– oscar gave me baby fever so enjoy 😅 if you enjoy don't forget to comment/reblog!
📅 august 30, 2025
deuxmoi an insider has just leaked exclusive photos and information of formula one driver, oscar piastri, stating that him and long-time girlfriend, y/n, have been parents since 2022. the pictures provided have been revealed to come from y/n's private instagram that reportedly only close family and friends follow.
the insider states that while they can't give away too many details, they confirmed that their daughter's name starts with an 'r'.
View all 28,290 comments
user WHOA WTF OSCAR'S A DAD???? THIS WAS NOT ON MY BINGO LIST
user not them covering the kid's face with a koala cause oscar is australian 😭😭 why is that actually kind of cute
user someone is about to lose their job 😬 hope the quick cash was worth it
user all those jokes about us calling yn mother and HERE SHE WAS AN ACTUAL MOTHER THE WHOLE TIME
user omggggg that picture of oscar with baby r is literally the cutest thing in the world
user he looks so young in it too 🥺
user so apparently oscar's stroke game is just too good huh 🤨
user sorry we doubt you king 😔
user have they never heard of protection??? seriously how could someone with a career like oscar's be so careless 🙄
user at least deuxmoi covered the kid's face...
user wowow wtf is wrong with people???
user what kind of person would expose something like this????
user clearly someone without anything better to do
user no offense... but i doubt oscar does any parenting with how often he's probably gone
user just say oscar isn't your favorite driver and move along 😪
user maybe yn should be more careful on who she lets follow her private account and this wouldn't have happened 🙄 typically pick me wag behavior
user hey!! your comment is a little unnecessary, not yn's fault someone she thought she would trust decided to leak the photos
f1gossipupdates oscar piastri talks about recent rumors of him being a father.
🎙️ : so, oscar– first off congratulations on the win
OP : thank you 🙂
🎙️ : secondly, we have to ask about the recent rumors that have come out this weekend. would you like to make any statement about them?
OP : umm, i mean nothing really to say except that my family's privacy has clearly been invaded. my daughter has nothing to do with racing, and i plan to keep it that way. she's still growing into her own person and i would like to keep her out of the spotlight until she is able to decide whether she wants to be seen or not. the pictures going around were taken from my girlfriend's private instagram that she uses to share those pictures with long-distance friends and family, so quite disheartening to see them being used to 'expose' our daughter.
View all 1,283 comments
user OH HE'S MAD MAD GUYS
user can you blame him though 😭 someone literally just exposed the biggest secret of his life during his wdc title fight 😭😭 i would be pissed too
user he handled that better than i would have honestly
user not saying he wouldn't be but oscar seems like a great dad so i hope fans respect his daughter's privacy
user kind of weird that she got pregnant and oscar didn’t marry her 🤨 cause he def gives the vibe of marrying his gf if he knocked her up
user frrrrrrr maybe he didn’t marry her so it would be easier to leave her if he wanted 🤣🤣
user i wonder what their baby's name is???
user heard some theories it might be rosé or reba but no one knows for sure and i doubt we'll ever find out
ynln and oscarpiastri updated their stories !
📅 december 7, 2025
clip #1 — baby piastri spotted running to oscar after the race
the clip is taken from the grandstand, zooming in on oscar as he's standing in parc fermé trying to cooldown from the race he just finished.
that's when the camera catches oscar turning his head and large smile breaking out onto his features as he's kneeling. that's when a tiny body jumps into his arms and he stands to his full height, hugging his daughter close to him. you are then seen coming up to join oscar and your daughter, the australian driver holding one arm out so that you could join in on the hug.
the clip zooms in even more to catch oscar kissing you sweetly on the lips before he's kissing your daughter on her cheek as she smiles brightly at him.
💬 comments :
👤 : oh those are HIS girls
👤 : oscar didn't win the championship but he sure won the family lottery
👤 : still hate that someone went and leaked baby r's existence before oscar and yn was ready, but i'm glad it didn't stop them from bringing her to the last race
👤 : i agree... i think oscar really enjoys having yn and their daughter at the races with him
👤 : BABY R WAS AT THE RACE 😱 NOT A THREE YEAR OLD GOING TO MORE F1 RACES THAN ANY OF US EVERY WILL 😭 life is truly unfair mannnnnn 😭😭
📅 december 25, 2026
🔒 privyn rowen told oscar every room needed a tree🎄 so guess what every room got 😂
View 92 comments
oscarpiastri ❤️❤️❤️
nicolepiastri she's getting so big 🤧 can't wait to see you guys soon
hattiepiastri still can't believe oscar made literally the cutest baby everr
oscarpiastri thanks 😑
lando lmaoooo why is she making that last face 😂
privyn oscar made a lame joke and she wasn't impressed
ediepiastri glad to see you and ro putting some whimsy into oscar's life 😆 it was very much needed
privyn can never have too much whimsy is what ro says 😆
📅 march 29, 2026
ynln godzilla was r's favorite thing from japan 🇯🇵🗼
View all 82,203 comments
oscarpiastri taking home a trophy and several godzilla action figures
ynln i'm afraid japan unlocked a new obsession 🤭
user STOP THATS SO CUTE– r being so cute and obsessed with godzilla is literally so adorable
user glad to see oscar and yn letting r explore different interests!
lando cutest godzilla lover i know
haasf1team hope she liked our livery this weekend then 🙌
ynln she was obsessed with it! thank you for letting us come by to see it 🖤 hope ollie is okay ❤️
olliebearman a little bruised but i'm good!
user the cherry blossom emoji to cover r's face is very on brand for this japan dump
user little r coloring in hospitality 🤧🤧 she seems so well behaved
user oscar is so boring cause he gave all the potential personality to his daughter
user OMG I SAW THEM WALKING AROUND THE PADDOCK ON SATURDAY!!! YN AND R WERE VISITING SOME OF THE OTHER WAGS
user ohhhhhhh they took r to japan 🥺🥺 seems like she had a good time too
clip #2 – oscar was joined by his daughter during his post-race interview
"uh, yeah, pace was really good today. very happy with the results. turns out we're not so bad when we actually start a race."
both oscar and the interview laugh a little bit. the sky sport's interview is about to ask another question, when oscar suddenly looks down. the camera just barely catches the top part of a tiny head now standing in front of oscar before arms were also appearing, gently patting oscar's stomach.
"daddy up," the microphone just barely catches and oscar can't bother to hide the smile on his face as he looks down at his daughter. then without a second thought, oscar leans down and picks the small girl up. him holding rowen on his hip as she immediately rests her head on his shoulder – clearly content with being held.
"hope you don't mind someone joining us," oscar says as he fixes his daughter's sweater.
"would you say your daughter was a good luck charm for this race?"
"probably, but i wish her good luck would have kicked in back in australia," oscar laughs looking from the camera to rowen. "either way, p2 is a great result for the team, so i'm glad i was able to start and finish this one."
rowen is caught watching as her father talks into the red and blue microphone. her bright eyes then looking towards the microphone and seemingly curious about it.
"daddy, what's that?" she interrupts him, leaning forward to where her tiny fingers just barely grazed the microphone.
"it's a microphone, baby, they use it so people watching on tv can hear me," he explains softly, his hand coming up to gently move her hand away.
💬 comments :
👤 : STOP SHE'S SO CUTE I LOVE BABY R SO MUCH 🥺🥺
👤 : oh that little girl has oscar wrapped around her finger. i've never seen oscar look this soft before
👤 : "i wish her good luck would have kicked in back in australia" OSCAR STOPPPPP 😭😭😭 IM SCREAMING
👤 : i love how oscar doesn't ask where she came from and just picks her up without thinking 😂😂😂😂
👤 : using this as future evidence when haters try to say that oscar doesn't care for his daughter
📅 april 26, 2026
oscar81updates oscar talks about baby r in recent interview and what it was like becoming a young parent in his recent interview.
🎙️ : so, it's been a year since it was revealed you have a daughter. you had her at a young age, what was that like? having to juggle going from f2 to f1 while also learning how to change diapers.
🐨 : it was definitely something i struggled with learning how to do, but more so learning how to juggle being a racer and a dad. me and my girlfriend we both struggled i think, and there were times i thought i was failing the both of them. but y/n was always there to pick me up even when she was exhausted. i'm thankful that my parents really helped us in the first year. they really helped me grow more confident in being both a loving dad and partner; i was able to be there for y/n like she was for me.
🎙️ : how does your daughter feel about you being an f1 driver? does she realize what you do and why you are constantly leaving?
🐨 : umm, she knows i drive a really fast car. she's always had that kind of understanding, we have pictures of my car along with my old helmets all over the house, so she's grown up with seeing the f1 cars. when she was about two, she was obsessed with the little hot wheels cars, and so i was constantly buying them whenever i went to a new country for her. she still plays with them, we got her one of the race tracks – the one with the shark – and she played the hell out of it.
at the very beginning when she was like one and half to two years old, she was always very distraught when i left. she would burst into tears whenever she seen my suitcase by the door. i remember she even took her first steps towards my suitcase, not me or y/n, because she wanted to push it away *laughs* it very cute and we were both shocked. but now she does much better with me leaving, i always tell her that i'll call her and to watch me on tv. obviously, she still has her moments where she throws full tantrums, but she's four so it doesn't surprise me and usually me holding her and rocking her gets her to stop.
🎙️ : i bet you've almost missed your flights cause of that!
🐨 : oh, one thousand percent, but i wouldn't trade it for the world. i hate leaving knowing that she's crying. it really messes with me.
🎙️ : has she been to any races?
🐨 : yeah, she’s been to a few. we don’t take her to a lot just because it can be a lot for someone so young. we didn’t start taking her to any until 2024, and that was only a handful. she’s been to the australian one for the past three years. she’s been to the british and monaco one, and we also took her to abu dhabi last year.
🎙️ : i remember seeing the clips of your daughter running up to you after the race.
🐨 : *laughs* yeah, seeing her run to me kind of just… i felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. and i knew that even if i wasn’t world champion, i was still champion to her — as cheesy as that sounds, and i wouldn’t change it for the world.
View all 738 comments
user dad!oscar is my fav genre of oscar 🤧
user he may not be my favorite driver but i have mad respect for him and how he's able to balance such a crazy life
user so glad he's more comfortable talking about his daughter now 🥺 you can really tell how much love he has for her
user like that's HIS baby
user omg r being obsessed with hot wheels is so cute and them even getting her one of the tracks too STOPPPPPPPP
user so being obsessed with cars is just a piastri thing then 😂😂 bless y/n's heart for now having two car obsessed people lmaooooo
user still can't wrap my head around oscar being a dad 😵💫😵💫 certified dilf if you ask me
📅 may 9, 2026
oscar81updates oscar was spotted attending his daughter's dance recital in monaco last night and also posted an update of r in her recital outfit.
View all 2,390 comments
user oh he looks so proud of her 🥺🥺🥺
user this just confirms that oscar was always meant to be a girl dad
user dude grew up with three younger sisters, it would have been weird if he WASN'T a girl dad lmao
user i heard the dance recital was for mother's day which i think makes it even sweeter, so glad he was able to go see her dance
user i love that he's slowly posting just a little bit of r here and there
user glad he can trust us 🤧
user NO ONE RUIN THIS FOR US GUYS I SWEAR TO GOD
user 2026 is the year of girl dad!oscar and i'm LIVING for it
user oscar living in peace now that he doesn't have to worry about winning a championship with that tractor mclaren like to call a car
user he literally looks so happy to be there watching his daughter
user normalize not recording celebrities in public esp when they are at private events or with their kids 😭😭
📅 may 10, 2026
oscarpiastri happy mother's day to the love of my life and the one who always keeps me steady and sane. every year i grow more and more thankful to you, my dear y/n, and i know i'm not usually good with words, but i hope you know how much i truly adore and love you.
i remember when we first started dating you asked me if i believed in soulmates, and i told you no. and i didn't. but i realize that even if i didn't believe in them at the time, you were always my soulmate. my other half. the mother of my daughter, my precious world. last year was a crazy whirlwind for us and i'm glad we got through the storm together.
i love you so much, y/n 🧡
View all 213,389 comments
ynln oh oscar 🥺 you are literally so sweet and i love you so much
lando happy mother's day y/n! oscar would literally be a chicken without its head if it wasn't for you and little r 😂
mclarenf1 happy mother's day y/n 🧡🧡
user can't believe we got sappy oscar before gta6
user omg i literally can't 🥹🥹 the different photos throughout the year has me SOBBING
user such a beautiful family!
user omg that first slide is from the originally ones that were leaked!!
user oscar reclaiming that picture from the loser who leaked it to begin with 🙂↕️🙂↕️
user the mixture of pics of yn by herself and with r are so sweet 🥹 she's literally so gorg
user oscar pulling such a pretty girl just isn't fair 😤😤
f1atelier photos are just placeholders! yn doesn't have an actual faceclaim please imagine yourself or whoever you want in these pictures! thanks.
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Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)
Summary: The one where Oscar has been married since he was 18 years old and never bothered to tell most people.
Links:
In chronological order:
The Haileybury Years (2015 - 2019)
The Very First Meeting
September 2015: Oscar Piastri is new at Haileybury School. Little does he know that the girl whose pen he stole in his first physics lessons is going to end up being the love of his life.
Joint Birthdays
Oscar Jack Piastri was born on the 6th of April, 2001 in Melbourne, Australia. Felicity Jia Yi Leong was born on the 6th of April, 2001 in Bukit Timah, Singapore.
The Kiss
One Kiss in an attic room in Haileybury changes everything.
The Great Béchamel Disaster
Oscar tries to be romantic. It does not go well.
Good (?) Fortunes
Felicity’s grandmother had a fortune teller.
Cricket Whites
Oscar plays Cricket. Teenage Felicity is TOTALLY normal about it.
The Attic Room
Felicity and Oscar broke the same school rules every night for three years.
Teenage Woes
5 Times Oscar and Felicity deal with typical Teenage Woes during their time at Haileybury…and 1 time they act like an old married couple
delulu girl autumn
Caitlin Pritchard thought she actually stood a chance with Oscar Piastri at Haileybury in 2018. Reader, she did not.
The Witnesses
Felicity and Oscar’s Years at Haileybury School through the eyes of their classmates.
The University Years (2019-2022)
What's in a Name?
Oscar tends to forget to tell his family about major life moments. Or: How Nicole Piastri found out that her granddaughter was named after her.
Didn't come up
5 times another driver/teammate of Oscar found out about Felicity or Bee.
Bottles, Baby Naps, and Sector Times
London. 2021. Oscar’s most important job is being a dad.
The Alpine-McLaren Fiasco
The Alpine - McLaren Fiasco…and Felicity Piastri’s hand in it. (Or: why multiple F1 team principals are terrified of Oscar’s wife.) Set in the Summer of 2022.
The Rookie Year (2023)
Supernova
Oscar Piastri realises that his daughter is more similiar to his wife than he thought. Set in Summer 2023.
A Soft Place to Land
Baku and Miami 2023. Oscar suffers through a double header with food poisoning, but coming home after that makes it all worth it.
Fixing the Slow
Felicity is at the farmers market. Oscar is watching Bee. Bee is making improvements to her Mclaren ride-on. Wait…what?!
The Sophomore Year (2024)
Building Blocks
How to parent a genius: A guide by Oscar Piastri.
Lavender House
Felicity Piastri was a genius, a mother, a wife, a homemaker, an interior designer, an engineer…not always in that order. Or: How Felicity made a House a Home.
The Mysterious Mrs Piastri
Oscar Piastri had always been a calm, collected kind of guy. Unshakeable, even.
Lando Norris, on the other hand? Not so much.
And today? Today was the day Lando fully lost it.
A McLaren Meltdown
Mclaren’s staff reactions to Oscar Piastri’s surprise marriage reveal.
She Wasn’t a Secret
When Oscar casually mentions his wife during a fan Q&A, Lando Norris combusts on stage, the internet loses its mind, Nicole Piastri wonders why her son can’t tell people basic facts about his life—like the fact he’s been married for five years and Mark Webber is quietly regretting his life choices.
Netflix Suffers
Netflix suffers through quietly private Oscar for 2 and a half whole seasons of Drive to Survive.
Wait, What?
Oscar Piastri managed to keep his wife a secret on accident for nearly half a decade…
Come to think off, that was not the only one he kept a secret.
Home Sweet Home
Oscar Piastri is just happy to be home with his girls. Lando Norris meets Felicity and Bee Piastri.
Bribery remains effective
Oscar Piastri thought doing kindergarten drop-off for his daughter would be easy — until Bee negotiates like a Formula 1 strategist and declares that the chickens at home are better friends than her classmates.
Garage Time
Felicity and Bee Piastri: Two Peas in a Pod
Oscar vs. Influencers
Oscar Piastri suffers through the Miami GP after the wife reveal.
Family Traditions
Lando finds out about a Piastri family tradition.
Mother Nature
Oscar wants some peace and quiet after the Miami GP.
Aquatic Adventures
Oscar is gone for a Double Header. Felicity builds a sanctuary.
A Secret Well Kept
McLaren finds out about the tiny genius Oscar has been keeping a secret.
Sick Day
When Bee wakes in the middle of the night with a fever, a simple stomach bug drags Oscar right back to the memories of the night he nearly lost both her and Felicity.
Built to Last
Oscar and Felicity have their own Wedding Anniversary Traditions.
Formidable
Andrea Stella figures out that Felicity Piastri is more than “just” Oscar’s wife.
Brilliant
Lando Norris figures out that Felicity is not the only genius in the family.
Override: Denied
Five times Bee’s intelligence left kindergarten teachers speechless—and one time they tried to go behind Felicity’s back, only to learn that Oscar Piastri is many things, but a husband who betrays his wife’s trust isn’t one of them.
Like Origami
Felicity folds their lives around Oscar’s.
The Red Notebook
Every season, Felicity Piastri keeps a red notebook—meticulously filled with race notes, corner analysis, and tyre data—not for the engineers, but for Oscar.
The Drawer
There is a drawer in Felicity's mind.
Undone
5 Times Oscar Piastri is undone by his wife and one time Felicity is wrecked by Oscar.
A Secret no more
The world finds out about Beatrice “Bee” Piastri.
The Old Wolves
Some other people have Thoughts™
The Past catching up
Felicity hates the month of June. Oscar makes it better.
Not an accident
Oscar gets asked about his daughter in an interview. It does not go well.
The Kart
Felicity and Oscar buy their daughter’s first kart.
Behind the Seams
Oscar vs. Felicity's closet.
History in Rhinestones
Bee has thoughts about her race day outfit.
Fractures
The Whole Broken Rib disaster during 2024. Aka Zak Brown gets terrified of Felicity Piastri, meanwhile Andrea Stella may have a platonic crush.
Historical Accuracy
Felicity had never been the kind of girl to get jealous easily. She didn’t need to worry about Oscar flirting with another girl. Because, frankly, Oscar was way too busy being… weirdly besotted with Lando Norris.
Dancing through Life
Felicity and Ballet.
In Denial
5 Times Lando Norris probably should have realised that his teammate had a child, but never did and 1 time Oscar Piastri made very clear that he is a father.
Her Papa’s Daughter
Oscar never sees how similar his daughter is to him. But Felicity does.
That Kind of Love
The most attractive thing about Oscar Piastri wasn’t his appearance. Or his mind, even though he was brilliant. It’s the way he loves his daughter.
The Weight
After a quiet conversation, Oscar decides to take the weight of birth control off Felicity’s shoulders once and for all. Sometimes love isn’t loud; sometimes it’s choosing to make life easier for the person you love.
Money, Money, Money
Felicity runs Oscar’s life. Oh, and she also handles all the money.
The Silk Dress
FIA Prize Giving Gala 2024. Oscar gets his very own trophy. (Also known as: Felicity tortures her husband for sport. Lando is kinda clueless.)
The Junior Year (2025)
Jealousy
Felicity Piastri does not get jealous. (Well, unless she does.)
The Cost of Faith
The odds are terrifying, the warnings stark…and Felicity Piastri still chooses Faith, much against Oscar’s wishes.
Sometimes
Felicity and Oscar never fight. Until they do.
One Night
Mark Webber has seen young drivers crack under pressure, but nothing like the night Oscar Piastri called him from a hospital floor, nineteen and alone, begging the universe not to take his wife and newborn. Years later, with Felicity pregnant again, Mark decides it’s time she finally knows what Oscar went through.
Lessons in Math (and Humility)
Kimi Antonelli thought he could handle anything — race cars, pressure, a wet track…but his math homework may destroy him. Enter Bee Piastri.
Mr Oblivious
Oscar Piastri is absolutely oblivious to the fact that people try to flirt with him. It drives Lando nuts. Felicity finds it very amusing though.
Love Letter
Other people write love letters, Felicity Piastri re-engineers tire degradation.
The Brush Off
5 Times people flirt with Felicity and 1 time Oscar sees it happen.
Love in Bubblewrap
Felicity Piastri fixes things. Regardless of what they are. Even if they are her sister-in-law’s stolen K-Pop albums.
Hello World
World, meet the newest member of the Piastri family.
The Senior Year (2026)
Gwesped piastrii
Oscar gets a species of wasps named after him. Bee has thoughts.
Bonus Material:
The original version of The mysterious Mrs Piastri that started it all.
Originally it was supposed to be just this one shot. Then Bee showed up in my mind.
pssst. yn is one of the most famous influencers. Not only does she share the love for f1 & ferrari with her fans, but she also loves to hide little secrets in her posts. So one day, when the fans saw her focus inspired by kimi antonelli and her being invited to the mercedes garage… people start suspecting. Those shipping things.. rumours that she is softlaunching him…. doesnt help kimi being deeply in love w her looks for the past few months. Inspired by Internetgirl from Katseye.
Summary: you and Lando have a beautiful two year old daughter, named Aurora, all blonde curly locks and sparkling green eyes. the two of you agreed to co-parent, but when you decide to move to New York, things get harder. It’s hard for him to not see her, to see her grow up, to parade her round the paddock and show off his little baby girl. Now your life looks completely different, your new boyfriend Jaxson Dart looks at Aurora like she hung the moon, he loves her like he’s her own…but he could never replace Lando.
Warnings: angst, cheating, part eight contains smut (18+ warnings).
Status: Ongoing
Main Masterlist
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Esme Travere (Original Character)
Summary:
Esme Travere thought she’d found her family when she was sixteen. Instead, she found years of bruises, broken promises, and the kind of love that came with conditions. When Severin throws her out with nothing but a carry-on and their six-month-old daughter, Esme swears Juliette will never grow up thinking love looks like this.
Thanks to a chain of women with no patience for cowards, Esme ends up in Monaco, working in Pascale Leclerc’s salon. And there, between hair dye and daycare runs, she meets Pascale’s middle son—a Formula 1 driver with too-kind eyes, who looks at her like she’s already halfway his.
This is a book of interconnected one shots set in the same universe. I don't write it chronological but rather whenever a new idea pops into my head.
If you have ever read anything in the “The mysterious Mrs Piastri” universe, this follows the same formula, just that this one is a bit less sprawling, i.e. the main characters only meet at the end of 2022 and not a decade prior.
One shots will be reordered into chronological order once posted.
Pairing: Kimi Antonelli x Reader (Female Media/PR Member)
Summary: Your secret plan involved Italian lessons, a heartfelt confession, and absolutely no witnesses. Unfortunately, Kimi Antonelli had other ideas.
Word count: 4.5k
Warning: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Secret Crush, Language Learning, Formula 1, Workplace Romance, Slow Burn, Accidental Reveal, Emotional Confession, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending.
Laysha's Notes: wrote this in a bit of a rush so please excuse any errors!! based on this request by @fruitsnack09
The first lie you ever told Kimi Antonelli was small and stupid and entirely necessary: you told him you were taking a Tuesday-night pottery class.
"Pottery," he repeated, in that careful, over-enunciated English he used when he wanted to make sure he wasn't misunderstanding you. He was sitting backward on a folding chair in the hospitality unit, forearms crossed over the backrest, still in his under-suit with the sleeves shoved up past his elbows, sweat-damp hair pushed off his forehead from an afternoon of simulator work. "Like bowls?"
"Like bowls," you confirmed, not looking up from the press notes you were pretending to edit.
"You have never once mentioned wanting to make a bowl."
"People contain multitudes, Kimi."
He'd huffed a laugh through his nose, unconvinced but unwilling to push, and gone back to scrolling through telemetry on his phone with the particular scowl he wore when a sector time displeased him. You'd felt the lie sit in your chest like a swallowed stone, sharp-edged and faintly thrilling, and told yourself it would be worth it. It was supposed to be temporary. Six weeks, maybe eight. Enough time to get the basics down, enough time to string together one perfect, devastating sentence, and then you'd never have to lie to him again.
That had been four months ago.
You were not, it turned out, a natural at Italian. You'd assumed arrogantly, in retrospect that spending two years listening to Kimi speak it would somehow make the language seep into your brain by osmosis. It hadn't. The occasional phrase muttered under his breath after a bad session or the rapid-fire conversations he had with his mother on the phone were enough to make you fall a little more in love with the sound of it, but not enough to actually teach it to you. Grammar was an entirely different beast, full of rules that seemed invented solely to make you suffer. Still, night after night, you sat in your car outside team hotels with a language app glowing in your lap, stubbornly working through exercises and repeating phrases under your breath. Because you weren't trying to impress a garage full of people. You were trying to impress one stubborn Italian racing driver.
Ti penso più di quanto dovrei.
I think about you more than I should.
You'd practice it in supermarkets, in airport security lines, in the shower with the water running so the sound wouldn't carry. You practiced it so many times the words stopped meaning anything and became pure muscle memory, the way a swimmer's stroke becomes thoughtless after ten thousand laps until you'd catch yourself mid-sentence and the meaning would come crashing back in, and you'd have to sit very still for a moment and remember how to breathe.
You worked in press and media for Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team, one of the most recognizable names in the paddock, a team built on championship-winning engineering, relentless standards, and an expectation that every detail mattered. You had been there before Kimi arrived as a wide-eyed rookie with a mop of dark curls and a habit of apologizing to the car after a difficult session, as though it could hear him and might forgive him for asking too much of it. You'd watched him grow into the seat over the course of the season, you’ve watched the apologies turn into thoughtful, technical debriefs with his engineers, watched the nervous excitement of a teenager stepping into Formula One settle into something calmer, sharper, and far more dangerous on track. You wrote his quotes. You stood beside him in front of walls of cameras and microphones, feeding him English phrasing under your breath when questions came too quickly or when he searched for the right word, your shoulder a careful two inches from his, close enough that only he could hear you.
Say "we're optimizing the long-run pace," not "we are still figuring out the tires," it sounds more in control.
He always did exactly what you told him. He trusted you with his image the way he trusted his race engineer with his car, completely, without question, which was its own kind of devastating because you knew with total certainty that if you told him right now, in this parking lot, in passable Italian, that you'd been in love with him since the Hungary weekend eighteen months ago when he'd given his media training translator the day off and asked you, badly, hopefully, if you wanted to get dinner he would believe you. He would believe anything you told him. That was the whole problem.
You had said no to that dinner. You'd told yourself it was unprofessional, a media liaison dating a driver, a mess waiting to happen, and you'd believed it for about four months before you stopped believing it and just felt stupid instead.
So: Italian. A plan. A grand, faintly ridiculous, entirely earnest plan, because if you were going to do this if you were finally, after a year and a half of aggressive denial, going to tell him the truth, you wanted to give him something. You wanted the words to cost you something, the way his trust in you had never seemed to cost him anything at all. You wanted to hand him your feelings in the language his mother sang to him, the language he dreamed in, according to his trainer, who'd heard him talking in his sleep on the team plane once and never let him live it down.
You were going to tell Kimi Antonelli you loved him in Italian, on a night you had not yet chosen, in words you had rehearsed roughly four thousand times, and it was going to be perfect.
You should have known better than to plan anything around a man who never did what you expected.
The accident happened on a Thursday, three days before the Monaco round, in the hospitality unit kitchen, over a stupid argument about coffee.
"It is not coffee," Kimi was saying, with the wounded dignity of a man defending something sacred, to Pieter, the team's Dutch chief mechanic, who had just handed him a paper cup from the catering machine. "This is brown water. You have insulted brown water by comparing it to coffee."
"It's free and it's caffeinated, Antonelli, drink it or don't."
"I don't. I refuse. On principle." Kimi set the cup down with the exaggerated care of a man setting down a small bomb, and you, sitting at the counter with your laptop open to a half-finished press release, didn't look up because you'd learned over two years that Kimi's coffee opinions were a bottomless well and engaging with them only deepened it.
Then he turned to his trainer, Sandro, who'd just walked in, and said something fast and low in Italian, clearly assuming you and Pieter were both out of range of comprehension. Something about Pieter's coffee, something uncharitable, something that ended with a word you knew — insopportabile (unbearable) and a short, sharp laugh.
And you laughed too. Before you could stop yourself. A short, involuntary huff of amusement at exactly the right beat, exactly where a person who'd understood the joke would laugh, and not a half-second later, the way someone catching a delayed translation might.
The kitchen went very quiet.
You felt it before you looked up felt the air change, felt Pieter's attention swing toward you with the slow, delighted dawning of a man who has just witnessed something he intends to never let go of, felt Sandro go still by the doorway. And when you finally made yourself look at Kimi, he was staring at you with an expression you had genuinely never seen on his face before, in two years, through podiums and DNFs and the worst sunburn of his life in Abu Dhabi. His mouth was slightly open. His eyebrows were somewhere up near his hairline.
"You understood that," he said. In English. Flatly. As though testing the words for weight.
"I— " Your mind, usually so reliable under pressure, the same mind that could spin a four-car pileup into a measured, professional statement in under ninety seconds, produced absolutely nothing. A vast, ringing silence. "No."
"You laughed."
"I have a— delayed sense of humor. Yeah. I was laughing at something else. Internally."
"At what."
"A meme," you said, with the specific, doomed confidence of someone who has just realized they are going to keep digging this hole until it swallows them. "I thought of a meme."
Pieter made a sound that was very close to a wheeze and had to turn around and pretend to be extremely interested in the coffee machine.
Kimi did not laugh. Kimi was looking at you the way he looked at telemetry data that didn't match what his hands had felt in the car like there was a discrepancy here, a gap between what he'd been told and what had actually happened, and he was not going to rest until he understood why. "Say something in Italian," he said.
"What? No."
"Say— " He cast around, then said, simply, plainly, watching your face with an intensity that made your skin feel two sizes too small, " —come stai oggi."
How are you today. The easiest sentence in the world. A sentence a phrasebook gives you on page one. And you knew, you knew, with the specific dread of someone watching a car slide toward a wall in slow motion, fully aware of the outcome and entirely unable to stop it that the safest thing to do was to look blank. To shrug. To say I have no idea what that means, Kimi, you're being so weird right now.
You did not do the safest thing.
"Bene," you said, before you could catch it. "Un po' stanca, ma bene." Fine. A little tired, but fine.
The kitchen, somehow, got even quieter.
Kimi set his unbearable, unloved coffee down on the counter with great precision, and the look that spread across his face was not triumph, exactly, though there was some of that in it there was also something more complicated, something that made your chest go tight and your face go hot in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment, or not only to do with embarrassment.
"How long," he said.
"Kimi— "
"How long have you been learning Italian."
You looked at Pieter, who had given up all pretense of coffee-machine interest and was now leaning against the counter with the rapt attention of a man watching the best television of his life. You looked at Sandro, who had quietly produced his phone and appeared to be filming, the absolute traitor. You looked anywhere except at Kimi, because you had a horrible suspicion that if you looked at him directly right now, with his hair still damp from the sim and his eyebrows still climbing and that unbearable, searching look on his face, you were simply going to tell him everything, right here, in the hospitality kitchen, with Pieter's ruined coffee going cold on the counter and Sandro's phone recording the whole humiliating spectacle for posterity.
"Four months," you admitted, to the floor.
Another silence. A different kind. You risked a glance up and found Kimi had gone very still, the teasing edge gone out of his expression entirely, replaced by something quieter and more careful.
"Four months," he repeated.
"It's not— it's nothing, it's just a hobby, lots of people learn languages, it's a very normal— "
"Why."
The question landed like a dropped tool, a single clean clattering syllable, and you felt the whole architecture of your careful four-month plan the rehearsed sentence, the chosen-but-not-yet-arrived night, the version of this where you controlled every single variable come apart in your hands like wet paper.
"I have to finish this press release," you said, and closed your laptop, and left the kitchen at a speed that was not quite a run but was making active use of the word quite.
Behind you, you heard Pieter lose it completely, and Sandro say something in rapid Italian that you were fairly sure, despite four months of careful study, you did not want translated.
You did not see Kimi again until media day.
This was, in itself, a small miracle of scheduling and cowardice .you'd buried yourself in logistics work for two days, coordinated three sponsor interviews and a livery reveal and a charity appearance you absolutely did not need to personally oversee, and managed, through sheer force of will, to never once be in a room alone with him. You knew this couldn't last. Media day was your job. You stood beside drivers at media day the way race engineers stood beside pit walls; it was simply where you existed.
He found you at the equipment tent twenty minutes before his first interview slot, while you were untangling a lanyard for the broadcast crew with far more focus than the task required.
"You're avoiding me," he said. Not a question.
"I'm working."
"You're avoiding me while working. It's an impressive skill, actually, I want you to know I'm impressed." He leaned against the equipment table, arms crossed, and you made the mistake of looking up, and found him not laughing at you, not teasing, just watching you with that same quiet, careful attention from the kitchen, like he was trying to read a sector time he didn't trust yet.
"I have your interview schedule," you said, holding up the clipboard like a shield. "Sky Sport at three, then the sponsor— "
"I don't care about the schedule."
"You should, you have four interviews in ninety minutes and the Sky one specifically asked about the gearbox issue from Spa, so I need you to use the line we discussed, the one about the long-term reliability gains, not the— "
"Why didn't you tell me?"
You stopped. The lanyard sat tangled and forgotten in your hands.
"It's not a big deal," you said, which was, you understood even as you said it, the single most transparent lie you had told in a month full of transparent lies.
"You learned my language in secret for four months and it is not a big deal." He wasn't angry. That was the strange part you'd braced for something like hurt or affront, the offense of a man who'd been kept out of a joke at his own expense, and instead what was on his face looked almost careful. Hopeful, in a way he seemed to be actively trying to suppress, the way he suppressed his disappointment after a bad qualifying lap, schooling his features into something neutral before the cameras found him. "People don't do that for fun, cara. People do that for a reason."
The endearment landed somewhere under your ribs and stayed there, glowing faintly, radioactive. He'd called you that before, occasionally, carelessly, the way Italians scattered tenderness into ordinary sentences without seeming to notice they'd done it — but it felt different now, deliberate, aimed.
"I had a reason," you said, before you could stop yourself.
"Tell me."
"I have your interview in eighteen minutes."
"Tell me after."
"Kimi — "
"After," he said again, gently, like it wasn't a request, like it was simply a fact about the shape the rest of the day was going to take, and then Pieter was shouting something about a tire pressure check and Kimi was being pulled away toward the garage, and you stood there with the ruined lanyard in your hands and your heart going much too fast for a Thursday afternoon.
You got through the interviews. You fed him the line about long-term reliability gains, and he delivered it word for word, the way he always did, except twice he glanced over at you between questions with a look that had nothing to do with gearboxes, and you had to physically school your own face into something professional, something that did not say I have known I loved you since Hungary and I have spent four months learning your language so I could tell you properly and I have absolutely no idea what I am supposed to do now that you know I've been lying to you about pottery class.
By the time the sun started dropping orange and low over the paddock, you'd run out of interviews to hide behind.
He found you on the terrace behind the hospitality unit, where the team sometimes ate dinner when the weather cooperated, looking out over the darkening circuit toward the grandstands, empty now except for the cleanup crews moving like slow ghosts under the floodlights. You'd come out here to be alone and think of an explanation that wasn't the truth, and had so far produced nothing.
"There you are," Kimi said, like you'd been the one running from something all day, which, fair, you had.
He sat down next to you on the low concrete wall, close enough that his shoulder nearly touched yours, and for a moment neither of you said anything. Somewhere in the garage behind you, an impact wrench whined and stopped. The smell of rubber and hot tarmac and the particular metallic tang of race weekend hung in the cooling air, the smell you associated, more than any other, with the two years you'd spent standing next to this man and not telling him the truth.
"Sandro deleted the video," Kimi offered, after a while. "I made him. I thought you looked like you wanted to disappear."
"I did want to disappear."
"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have in front of everyone, it was not fair, I got excited and I didn't think." He turned to look at you properly then, and the playful armor from earlier in the day had dropped away entirely, leaving something younger and more uncertain underneath, an expression you recognized from the very first season, before he learned to wear confidence like a second skin. "Why Italian?"
You looked out at the empty grandstands instead of at him. It was easier.
"Because," you started, and stopped, and started again. "Because you trust me with everything. My English, my line readings, what to say to the cameras and what not to. You never once question it. And I just I wanted to give you something that wasn't about work. Something that was just mine to give. Not professional advice. Not a press strategy." Your hands were doing something complicated and nervous in your lap; you made them stop. "I wanted to tell you something important in the language that actually means something to you. Not the language we use for sponsor calls."
"Tell me what."
The wind moved across the terrace, carrying the smell of someone's cigarette from the far end of the paddock, and you thought about four months of late nights with a phone app glowing blue in the dark, four months of online lessons with a tutor every tuesday, four months of rehearsing a sentence so many times it had stopped sounding like words and become something closer to a held breath, finally, now, about to be let out.
You looked at him. Damp curls, dark eyes, the small scar above his eyebrow from a karting crash at fourteen that he'd told you about on a long flight to Singapore, the steady, open way he was watching you now like nothing in the world mattered more than whatever you said next. Eighteen months since Hungary. Four months of Tuesday nights that weren't pottery class. One ruined surprise, and a man waiting, patiently, for the truth he'd already half-guessed.
"Ti penso più di quanto dovrei," you said.
I think about you more than I should.
The words came out steadier than you expected, four months of repetition finally earning their keep, landing clean and whole in the space between you instead of crumbling apart the way you'd feared they might. Kimi went very still. You watched the sentence travel across his face in real time comprehension, then something brighter and more startled underneath it, like watching the lights come up on a grandstand all at once.
"Say it again," he said. Quietly. In Italian this time. "Dimmelo ancora."
"I think about you more than I should," you said again, in English now, because you needed him to have it both ways, needed there to be no possible margin for translation error in a moment this large. "I have for a long time. Since Hungary, honestly, since you asked me to dinner and I said no because I was scared and stupid about the job thing, and I have regretted saying no probably every single day since, and I started learning Italian because I wanted to tell you properly, I wanted to give you something that took real effort, something that proved I meant it, and then you went and ruined the whole plan by being unbearable about coffee in front of Pieter— "
"I ruined it," Kimi said, and there was real laughter in his voice now, breaking through, bright and disbelieving. "I ruined it."
"You laughed at the coffee and I laughed at the joke and everything fell apart."
"Everything did not fall apart." He reached over, slow, like he was giving you every chance to pull away, and took your hand off your lap, turning it over in his like something he wanted to look at properly. His thumb moved once across your knuckles, light, almost disbelieving. "Everything came together. Badly. With Pieter watching. But together."
"This is not how I planned it."
"No?" His mouth was doing something complicated, fighting a smile and losing. "How did you plan it?"
"Candles," you admitted. "Probably candles. A view. Something with actual atmosphere, instead of— " You gestured vaguely at the terrace, the floodlights, the distant whine of someone's impact wrench starting up again. " —this."
"I like this," Kimi said. "I like that it's true. I would rather have you, badly planned, on a wall behind a garage, than candles and a script." He was still holding your hand, and now he laced his fingers properly through yours, deliberate, an answer offered without being asked for. "I have been waiting eighteen months for you to change your mind about Hungary. I was starting to think I had imagined the whole dinner. That maybe I asked wrong."
"You didn't ask wrong. I was wrong. I was so sure it would be a disaster, mixing the job with this. With wanting you the way I wanted you."
"And now?"
"Now I've spent four months memorizing Italian verb conjugations for you, so I think the disaster has already started and I might as well see it through."
He laughed properly, that bright, surprised sound you'd heard maybe a dozen times in two years, usually reserved for podiums and good qualifying laps, and it did something to your chest, hearing it directed at you instead of a stopwatch. "Ti penso più di quanto dovrei," he said again, testing the words now from his own mouth, watching your face as he said them, "is correct, by the way. Your grammar. Very good. A little formal, but good."
"Four months, Kimi."
"I noticed." He brought your hand up, pressed his mouth briefly to your knuckles, an old-fashioned gesture that should have felt theatrical and instead felt exactly, devastatingly right, here on this wall, with the circuit lights coming up gold against the darkening sky behind him. "Anche io," he said, quiet now, no performance left in it at all. Me too.
"Show-off," you said, though your voice had gone thick. "I worked very hard on that sentence."
"I know. I could tell. It was a good sentence." He was closer now, close enough that you could feel the warmth coming off him in the cooling evening air, close enough that the next thing either of you said wasn't going to be words at all. "Next time," he murmured, "warn me before you confess something. I almost fell off my chair."
"There's not going to be a next time. I only had the one."
"Good," Kimi said. "I only need the one." And then he kissed you careful at first, like he was still checking the data matched what his hands could feel, and then not careful at all, four months and eighteen months and one ruined, perfect surprise collapsing down into the simple, unhurried space between one breath and the next and somewhere behind you, faint and getting fainter, you were fairly sure you heard Pieter, from an open garage door, shout something about finally that you were extremely glad you couldn't quite translate.
Three weeks later, you stood in the same equipment tent, untangling the same kind of lanyard, while Kimi leaned against the table exactly the way he had that first impossible Thursday, except now his hand found the small of your back without either of you remarking on it, an easy, unremarkable fact of how things were.
"Sky Sport at three," you told him, not looking up from the clipboard. "Use the line about long-term reliability."
"Sì, cara," he said, and you felt it land warm under your ribs the way it always did now, no longer radioactive, just true. "Anything else?"
"Don't insult anyone's coffee where Pieter can hear you. We've had enough incidents this season."
"No promises," Kimi said, grinning, and pressed a quick kiss to your temple before Sandro called him toward the garage, and you stood there with the lanyard finally untangled in your hands, watching him go, thinking not for the first time, and not, you suspected, for the lasthat some plans were worth ruining.
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Famous book influencer on Instagram, Youtube and TikTok, after 3 weeks of break with your boyfriend, you owe your followers a new videos. So after you came back from your holidays, two days passed before you finally take time to set up your camera and film a haul.
“Hey guys, I know it’s been a while, sue me I was on vacation with my hot boyfriend so I wasn’t really able to film and do things, but I'm back ! And since I wasn’t at home, I accumulated lots of packagings, either from publishing house who sent me books in advance, or books that I bought on Vinted because we love second hand things. And I’m going to show you guys what I bought while I was on holiday too because Lando and I purchased things… and yeah.”
As you are talking, Lando comes in the frame, leaning at your left, so just a part of his body can be seen. He waits for you to stop talking to talk.
“Are you filming?”
“No no, I'm just talking to myself… yes I'm recording why ?”
“Can I do it with you?”
“You want to do a TikTok with me where I explain the books that I received ?”
“Yeah ! And I wanna show them what I bought too!”
“Alright, sit down then. Ok we have a guest star along now so bear with us, it’s going to be long. You wanna start ?”
“No no, I let you do your things, show your book, I’ll open the packages in the meantime.”
“Okay. Now guys, as you know I love books and cute romances, even more when it’s well written. So that’s why I bought the first two books of the Lakefront Billionaires by Lauren Asher.” You take the books out of Lando’s hands and show it to the camera. “They are linked with the Dreamland Billionaires series, if I’m not mistaken. I think like, the house they’re renovating in the first book is a house near the lake house of the third book ? And as you know I love when different books from the same author just mingle together so we have cameos of past characters.”
You lay the book down on the table, as you say that, ready to move on with the other books.
“Then, since I love, emphasis on love, small town cowboy romance,I bought the first two books of the queen Elsie Silver’s Ruby Creek series.” As you talk, Lando shows the books to the camera, making sure to stay on focus so the viewer could see the resume on the back cover. “I loved Chestnuts Spring and I think they are also interconnected, I’m not sure though. But I think they are, or at least they are going to be.”
“Next, I bought King of Envy, aka the fifth book of the King of Sins series by Ana Huang, and I-”
“Wait ! Where is it?” cuts Lando while searching for the book in question.
“It’s not here ? It’s like a green and beige cover with a bottle of perfume.”
“I don’t know where you put it babe, but it’s not here.”
“It’s okay, I’ll just put it on the montage. Anyways, I finished it yesterday so a book review will be on in the next few days, I hope but I can say to you that it was my favorite so far.”
You take a break from recording, smiling at Lando who smiles you back while opening the last package.
“And for the last book, I finally bought, The Housemaid by Freida McFadden. I’m scared of reading it after everyone literally because of the hype it got and still gets to be honest and I don’t want to be deceived by it. The plot seems good and I just hope I’ll like it.”
You put all of your books away, letting Lando show what he got during your holidays.
“Okay guys hum, I bought a new shirt. It’s white and it’s made of linen so it’s very smooth and light to wear during summer. Next I bought a new bracelet to match with the ones that I already had and also to match with my girl’s one that I gave her for her birthday.”
He shows the bracelet he got with a smile on the face, happy to share his finds with other people. You smile as well, seeing him this excited for a simple haul.
“And finally I bought the little F1 lego mystery cars. We were lacking 2 of them for our collection and she wanted to make a McLaren keychain for a bag as well so I took 6 boxes to make sure we get the one we need.”
“Why did you bought 6 boxes ?”
“It’s mystery babe, I don’t know which one I'm getting!”
“You know there’s an app to see which one you have in a box right ?”
“What ? Really?”
“Yeah ! How did you think an end up with a McLaren in my first box ever ?”
“I don’t know, I thought you were lucky to have my car!”
“Oh babe…”
“Don’t babe me, I’m wounded.”
“It’s ok, let’s see which one we get.”
You open the first box, letting out a Ferrari car.
“See, it’s okay we needed that one!”
“Hum…let’s open the second box.”
He opens the other box, which turns out to be another Ferrari.
“Now we have Charles and Lewis…”
The following three boxes were a Haas, a RedBull and another Ferrari.
“Last box… if it’s not a McLaren I swear to-”
“Okay Lando, let’s calm down… it’s just a Lego car.”
You guys open the box together, looking away just to build tension… only to be surprised with the red color of the Ferrari car.
“AGAIN? What they expect me to own the whole Ferrari grid since 1900 or what?”
He stands up, hurrying to put his shoes on as you’re still recording.
“Where are you going?”
“To the store, I need to buy more… send me the app please ?”
He doesn’t wait for you to answer, leaving you alone after a quick kiss on the lips.
summary: one little conversation between Nicole Piastri and the McLaren social media admin brings you back into Oscar's life
fc: gala nikolic
warning: I am aware of all the spelling errors, but to change them I’d have to rewrite, screenshot and insert the slides all over again and I’m just too lazy to do that, so you’ll just have to life with it
a/n: I love them you guys!!! I’m totally open to writing a part two if you’re interested, but I also might just do it anyway. I hope you enjoy🍀
oscatpiastri
oscatpiastri LMAO admin just said ‘I’m so hungry, I could eat YN YLN’ and that was the face Oscar pulled😭😭 what kind of trauma did they unlock??
view all comments…
user I’M CRYING the man was flabbergasted
user I NEED TO KNOW WHO THAT IS IK YOU GUYS ARE GOOD AT STALKING
-> user I could only find a private acc with that name @.yourusername but there is no way to tell if it’s actually her
-> user wow you guys are quick
user oh to be able to read his mind rn
user admin chose violence today
-> user he looked so betrayed my poor boy💀
user how did admin even get such private information about Oscar?? like there is absolutely no history of a YN YLN anywhere in Oscar’s digital footprint
-> user I mean, that’s their entire job no? find things that get clicks and oscar’s past def does that
🔒 yourusername
yourusername university is slowly turning me into a hermit
view all comments…
yourfriend1 caption is so real dude
yourfriend1 one more class with professor brenner and I’ll actually break all of my good pencils
-> yourusername REAL
yourfriend2 movie binge night was so good we have to do it again
-> yourusername ‼️‼️
yourbestfriend girly you’re famous
-> yourusername fuck you mean by that?
-> yourbestfriend have you ever watched f1? does the name oscar piastri ring a bell?
-> yourusername YOURE FUCKING JOKING
yourfriend3 I’m so hungry I could eat oscar piastri🤔🤔
yourfriend4 what just happened
yourfriend5 the art faculty bathroom is actually so peak
yourfriend6 you’re so gorgeous one chance pls pls pls
TEXTS BETWEEN NICOLE AND OSCAR
TEXTS BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR BEST FRIEND
👤 OSCAR PIASTRI WANTS TO SEND YOU A MESSAGE
oscarpiastri: Hello YN, I’m not sure if you remember me, we went to kindergarten together. I just wanted to give you a heads up, incase you haven’t seen it yet. There is a video going around on the internet of the McLaren social media admin mentioning you in an interview and people are taking it all sorts of ways. I hope it doesn’t cause you any trouble, if it does, please don’t hesitate to reach out and I will take full responsibility for it. I hope you are doing well!
INSTAGRAM DIRECT MESSAGES BETWEEN YOU AND OSCAR
yourusername: Hello Oscar, it’s nice to hear from you! Thank you for the heads up, that’s really kind of you. I saw the video and the reactions, but don’t worry, it’s really no trouble. How are you? Maybe we could catch up? We haven’t seen each other for so long
oscarpiastri: Good to hear that it’s not troubling you. I’m sorry anyway. And I’d love to catch up. Are you still in AUS? I’m there from December until February, incase you are.
yourusername: Yep! Still an Australian resident:) I have a small semester break in Janurary, if that works for you?
oscarpiastri: Great! 👍
🔒 yourusername
yourusername touching grass because why am I doing all that over a MAN
view all comments…
yourfriend1 I just looked oscar piastri up and jeezus YN go get him or I will
yourbestfriend my girl is crushing on the f1 championship leader… i always knew you had big ambitions but I didn’t think they were that big
-> yourusername YOU REALLY ARE NOT HELPING IT
yourfriend2 we’ve lost her😞😞
-> yourfriend3 to a MAN of all things smh
-> yourusername YOU GUYS
yourfriend4 why do I have to be on an semester abroad right now of all moments I FEEL SO LEFT OUT
yourfriend5 she was crouching like that for a good 5 minutes btw
-> yourusername STOP EXPOSING ME
-> yourfriend4 why was she even crouching??
-> yourfriend5 he was texting her really dryly and she freaked out bc obviously that means he hates her and she wants to die and he should crash
-> yourfriend4 you are absolutely hopeless YN
-> yourusername I need to find friends that actually love me
yourfriend6 yk when you start dating you’ll have to open this insta to him and he’ll see how pathetic you are for him
-> yourusername WAIT THATS SO EMBARRASSING
🔒 yourusername
yourusername no idea what just happened I just know it wasn’t good at all I’M SO SORRY OSCAR WHEN I SAID I WANTED YOU TO CRASH I DIDNT MEAN IT
view all comments…
yourfriend1 you’re so unserious wearing a tshirt that says your tears don’t fall they crash around me after your CRUSH DNFED
-> yourusername gotta have some humour or I’ll cry
yourfriend2 I’m seeing this as a sign that he’s so obsessed with you that he does everything you say
-> yourusername THEN HE SHOULD LOCK IN AND WIN THE STUPID CHAMPIGNONCHIP OR WHATEVER
-> yourfriend2 CHAMPIGNONCHIP I‘M CHOKING
f1updates
f1updates oscar piastri when asked about the title fight and the support of family and friends for the race this weekend:
“I know a lot of things have to go right today, in order for me to win, but as long as it is a possibility, I will stay positive that I can do it.” Said the Australian. “I’ve got a lot of people here to cheer me on, my mum, dad and sisters, for one, but also an old friend, who I haven’t seen in a long time. They give me the strength to push one last time.”
view all comments…
user I KNOW HE CAN DO IT
user Norris needs to fuck off it’s Oscar’s turn
user I wonder who the “old friend” is🤔🤔
-> user YN YLN? I’m still not over that mystery
-> user that would be the plot twist of a century
user my entire body is vibrating like I just drank four gallons of coffee
user THIS IS STILL MY BOY
🔒 yourusername
yourusername ABU DHABI ARE YOU READY?
view all comments…
yourfriend1 HE WILL NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIMSELF WHEN HE SEES YOU
yourfriend2 wow😳
yourbestfriend forget that wanna be athlete and come home to your wife (me)
yourfriend3 your nervous f1 rambling made me invested as well, I’m rooting for the blonde with an attitude problem
-> yourusername max verstappen?
-> yourfriend3 that one, yes
yourfriend4 HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABT TODAYS RACE?
-> yourusername I’m fucking shaking bro, Verstappen idk you like that but please find the closest barrier and take that Norris guy with you
oscarpiastri
oscarpiastri lots achieved. lots learnt. coming back stronger next year
view all comments…
mclarenf1 we are so proud of you oscar🧡
user no one is in doubt that you’ll win the title one day
user not even Norris bottled this hard
user I don’t get why people are so harsh on him all of the sudden, have we all forgotten that he lead the wdc for half a season in his 3rd year in f1??
user op the man you are
user AURA
user oh 2025 you were so promising
yourusername still not sure if I understood it all, but I know that I’m incredibly impressed:)
-> oscarpiastri I’m glad you could make it🙂
-> user OMG IT WAS YN YLN
-> user he’s so awkward with emojis💀💀
-> user GIRL PLEASE OPEN YOUR INSTA I NEED TO BE PARASOCIAL
🔒 yourusername
yourusername nothing to sayyyy🧚♀️
view all comments...
yourfriend1 do we have to act normal now bc he can see the posts?
yourbestfriend you smart little finch, I recognise a thirst trap when I see one😛😛
-> yourusername BE QUIET
yourfriend2 RIP unhinged instagram posts, you will be missed😞
-> yourusername you guys are so dramatic
oscarpiastri I'm not sure if I want to look at the other posts
-> yourusername don't, just don't do it
yourfriend3 one man in your life and you have an entire rebrand smh 🤦♀️
yourfriend4 you? speechless? what have you done to my girl, oscar piastri🤨
yourfriend5 WHAT IS A MAN DOING HERE?
-> yourusername BE NICE
yourbestfriend my girl is gonna be a famous wag🥲
yourfriend6 he can take great pictures at least
f1gossip
f1gossip Oscar Piastri was sighted in Melbourne, Australia with a mysterious woman on his arm. Who do we think she is?
view all comments…
user NO😫
user oscar piastri daring rumours in the first weeks of 2026 what is going on
-> user I started to doubt his abilities
user cant even see her properly but i already know shes so pretty
user wait I think I’ve seen her before?? At the Abu Dhabi GP
yourbestfriend OMG MY GIRL IS ON A GOSSIP PAGE @.yourusername LOOK MY GIRL GOT PAPARAZZIED
-> yourusername GIRL DON'T PUT ME ON BLAST LIKE THAT
user i’m not ready for everyone to become parasocial about him all of the sudden
user not him wearing the fugly ass burgundy shirt on a DATE
-> user we don’t even know if it’s a date, could just be a friend
user did anyone see that comment from @.yourbestfriend?? they tagged a user named YN YLN….. coincidence???
-> user did I miss something?? who is that?
-> user there is a video of the mcl admin saying I’m so hungry, I could eat YN YLN and everyone and their mother has been trying to find out who she is and what correlation oscar has to her since then
-> user yeah and her account is private, so there’s absolutely NO WAY for us to find out anything about her
81_updates
81_updates Oscar Piastri, Mark Webber and friends on Melbourne Beach. Some fans even stated that Oscar was with a girl and they seemed to be very close🤔
view all comments...
user HOLD ME BACK
user I hate to say this, but I think oscar really does have a girlfriend now
user congratulations to whoever get’s to have that every night
user lmao the imprint on his chest looks like a 4
user god that girl is lucky
user I think it’s safe to say it’s YN
user oscar jack piastri I was unfamiliar with your game
🔒 yourusername
yourusername after being forced to participate in all of Oscar’s hobbies, I think it’s only fair if I force him to paint with me, right?
view all comments...
yourfriend1 turn that frown upside down😛
yourfriend2 you guys make me sick
-> yourusername jealousy doesn’t suit you babe💋
yourfriend2 and yes, that’s absolutely fair
yourfriend3 be honest, who won the race?
-> yourusername I love how much faith you have in me, but be fr who is winning the race? A girl who has known about f1 for 3 months or an actual f1 driver??
-> yourfriend3 he didn’t let you win? break up with him
-> oscarpiastri she told me not to let her win🤷 said it would be satisfying for her ego if she beat me on raw talent
-> yourfriend3 oh my sweet angel😞 THAT MEANS LET HER WIN
yourbestfriend no photo credit for the picture smh🙁
-> yourusername sorry babe, credit to you for pic 6, and to osc for literally every other one
oscarpiastri I don’t think you want to see the monster I create when I touch a pencil
-> yourusername as if I was graceful playing paddle
-> oscarpiastri you’d look beautiful while digging in dirt
-> yourusername HKDBHAYPQA
-> oscarpiastri are you ok?
-> yourusername just fine:)) my cat walked over my keyboard:))))
-> yourfriend4 you don’t…..have a cat?
-> yourusername SHHH
oscarpiastri and I did not force you
oscarpiastri
oscarpiastri 🔋☀️
view all comments...
user when hes good with words😍😍
user I’m so obsessed with his gf and I don’t know anything about her
-> user I think that’s part of the appeal
user KARTING OSCAR
user that looks suspiciously like a date🧐
user I can’t wait for them to feel more comfortable and reveal a little more about their relationship
-> user I’m so excited for her to attend more races next year
user I don’t think they will ever confirm anything you guys, this is all we’re gonna get THEY ARE JUST SO PRIVATE
user HES SO CUTE
user our boy has a girlfriend… he’s actually done it
Summary— Lando has to do bedtime with Luka, but also has to stream with Max.
Warnings— none fluffy asf
A/N— Im back bitches 😝
Dad Lando Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Request— Hello! I have a request for a lando!dad story. With either a boy a girl who is about 3-4 years old. Lando is having a hang out with max fewtrell few more friends, they are live on twitch. Lando had put the kid to bed a while ago but at some point in he stream the kid wakes up, and stays on the stream for a while, the fans love it and think it's cute, but lando eventually puts them back to bed. I love your stories so much!!
Lando and Max planned to stream with friends, but Lando was on bedtime duty so it was pushed back. Max played a few rounds on stream and the chat got increasingly insistent on Lando joining.
“Chat would you take a chill pill, he’s got dad duties.” Max said. The chat conversed about it for a bit and calmed down, realizing that yeah- Lando is a dad.
In the other room Lando was giving his little boy a bath before bed. Bubbles and toys strewn about the warm water while he got splashed and drenched. “Oh no! Your boat sunk!” Lando exclaimed playfully as Luka dunked the toy ship.
Giggles erupted from the boy and Lando couldn’t help but smile. “No daddy, it’s a special ship.” Luka explained. “They can go underwater.” Lando chuckled and scoffed a bit at his son.
“It’s a submarine then?” Lando asked with a brow raised. Luka gave him a scowl.
“No. It’s a boat daddy.” He corrected. His face serious before a yawn interrupted. His playing hands got more uncoordinated and Lando began draining the tub.
“Alright let’s get you ready for bed.” He said lifting the boy from the tub and drying him. Luka gave his mum resistance during bedtime but never Lando. Which is why she implemented he do bedtime when he’s home and away from racing.
He got the boy dressed and in a pull up— something Luka wears strictly at night while they’re still trying to potty train him. He read a quick story and got the boy calm and relaxed in his arms, snuggling close.
He laid the boy in his toddler bed and gave him a kiss goodnight. “Dream of race cars little one, mummy and daddy love you lots.” He whispered while caressing the boys damp hair. He exited the room, solely lit by a nightlight and rain pattering from the sound machine fills the room.
He retreats to the master bed to change and tell his wife goodnight, and that Luka should be out cold before going to his gaming room. His friends lounging on the couch and Max engrossed in a heated game already, headset on one ear but not the other.
“Who’s next?” Lando asked the group. The room had soundproofing and was nearly across the house from the bedrooms so if they were loud it wasn’t an issue.
A few hours pass of the guys taking turns in the game, Max entertaining chat one way or another. Lando nursing a monster all night. One of the guys gets up for the bathroom and opens the room door, he walks about a step out before returning in and giving Lando a look.
Lando smiles and gives him a confused expression before he hears it. “Where’s dada?” Lando shoots up and walks into the hall. He crouches in front of the boy and rubs his arm.
“Hey bubba, what’s the matter?” Lando asked softly. His friend went to where he was headed in the house and left the two. When Luka realized it was Lando he opened his arms and curled them around his neck.
“Mama’s door ‘s locked.” He whined. Lando rubbed a soothing arm on the boys back and stood up. Luka had a horrible habit of trying to sleep with his mum when Lando was gone so she retreated to locking her door at night, it mostly worked. Luka knew that Lando had friends over though and so he got a free pass to be with Lando.
“Is it now?” Lando cooed. “How about you hang out with daddy and Maxie hm?” He offered. Luka nodded and Lando entered the room again. The chat erupted with too fast comments.
“He joins the stream!” Max said, quieter than usual. “Hey bud, why are you up this late?” He lightly tickled the boys side and got a giggle and smile.
“It’s about the time he sneaks into mama’s room huh bub?” Lando said. Luka curled into Lando again and he chucked. “He’s just going to hang out for a bit.”
Lando forfeit his turns to hold Luka and they watched them play round after round. The chat roars across the screen about how adorable Luka and Lando are. ‘Look at him how tired, aww’ or ‘Max you’re yelling is scaring the poor boy!!’ And ‘he better be getting so many cuddles after dealing with this group’
After around 30 minutes he noticed Luka trying to suck his thumb and his eyes drooping again. “Can I sleep with Mama?” He mumbled.
“Let’s go see bub.” Lando answered and brought the boy to the door, fishing the key from his pocket and unlocking the door. She was already up, having to use the bathroom. She looked over to her boys and smiled.
“Come see Luka.” She mumbled, voice laced with tiredness. Lando brought the boy over and she pulled him close to her chest. Luka sighed contentedly and fell back asleep.
“I’ll be done in a minute, just finishing up.” Lando whispered, placing a kiss to her head and Luka’s.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Molly Chapman is one of the biggest names in music. Her concerts sell out every single night. She travels the world doing what she loves and brining her songs to her millions of fans. There’s private jets, fancy hotels, designer everything. Whatever she wants, Molly can snap her fingers and it’s hers.
She has everything a 25 year old girl could dream of. But something is missing. Freshly out of a dangerously toxic relationship, Molly has sworn off men all together and decided she needs to focus on her for once. She’s fine on her own, filling her life with her family and friends and fans.
And then Lando Norris, Formula One’s golden boy, walks into her life with a friendship bracelet and an half-baked idea to get her attention. When his plan goes viral, Molly catches wind of the scheme and what happens next leads to one of the greatest love stories the public has ever seen.
This fic is about love and loss and finding that person who is truly your ‘safe space’ and soulmate in an otherwise noisy and overwhelming world of intense internet scrutiny and high expectations.
Series Playlist
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
SMAU Bonus Chapter
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
The Bonus Tracks:
Lando taking care of Molly fluff
A Very Texas Thanksgiving in Qatar
Operation: Fix Christmas
Wood
Accidental Wedding Bells
The Cat's Out of the Bag
Can i request a fic where lando and yn have a baby/toddler girl that is asian features like yn but has lando’s green eyes. Lando is very protective and tries to keep her name private but some staff in mclaren leaked the name?
Thanks!
Her Name Was Never Meant for Them
Lando Norris x Girlfriend!reader
Synopsis: A McLaren staffer leaks the private name of Lando and his girlfriend’s toddler, sending Lando into fierce protective‑dad mode as he shields their daughter and fights to keep her world safe and private.
Your daughter has Lando’s eyes — that unmistakable green that looks almost unreal in sunlight. Everyone says so. Fans, commentators, even the drivers who pretend they’re not obsessed with her.
But her name?
That was supposed to be yours. Yours and Lando’s alone.
It started the way most race weekends did: too early, too loud, and with your toddler glued to Lando’s hip like she was born there. She’s in her tiny McLaren hoodie, curls bouncing as she babbles to him in a language only he understands.
He listens like every sound is sacred.
“Dada, look!” she squeals, pointing at a golf cart.
Lando gasps dramatically. “A golf cart? No way. That’s crazy. Should we steal it?”
She nods with the seriousness of a world leader.
You roll your eyes. “Please don’t teach her crimes before breakfast.”
He grins, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “No promises.”
---
The day is normal until it isn’t.
You’re in hospitality when your phone starts vibrating nonstop. Mentions. Tags. Notifications. At first you think it’s just another cute photo someone snapped of Lando carrying your daughter like she weighs nothing.
Then you see it.
A tweet.
A photo.
A caption.
Her name.
Spelled correctly.
Posted by an account that always gets insider info a little too fast.
Your stomach drops so hard you feel dizzy.
You don’t even realise you’ve stood up until Zak appears beside you, concern etched across his face. “Everything alright?”
You show him the screen.
His expression darkens. “Who the hell leaked that?”
You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat is tight, your chest tighter. You’d worked so hard — both of you — to keep her name private. Not because you were ashamed. Not because you were hiding her. But because she was a child. Your child. And the world didn’t deserve every piece of her.
You hear Lando before you see him — that familiar laugh, the one he only uses with your daughter. Then he walks in, holding her on his hip, her tiny hand fisted in his hoodie.
He takes one look at your face and freezes.
“What happened?”
You hand him the phone.
His jaw clenches so hard you hear his teeth grind. His arm tightens around your daughter instinctively, protectively, like he’s shielding her from the entire world.
“Who posted this?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Who gave them her name?”
Zak steps in. “We’re investigating. I’ll handle it.”
“No,” Lando snaps. “I’ll handle it.”
Your daughter senses the tension and buries her face in his neck. He softens instantly, rubbing her back, whispering something only she can hear. But his eyes stay sharp, furious.
He looks at you. “I’m so sorry, love.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is. It’s my team. My environment. Someone here thought they had the right to share something that wasn’t theirs.”
You reach for his free hand. “We’ll deal with it.”
He nods, but you can tell he’s barely holding it together.
---
The fallout is immediate.
McLaren releases a statement condemning the leak.
Fans rally behind you.
The post is deleted — but the internet never forgets.
Lando spends the rest of the day with your daughter glued to him. He refuses to let anyone else hold her. Not staff. Not PR. Not even Oscar, who usually gets unlimited cuddles.
At one point, Oscar approaches with a soft smile. “Hey, can I—”
“No.”
Lando doesn’t even look up from where he’s adjusting her headphones.
Oscar blinks. “Mate, I just—”
“No.”
You place a hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Lan, he’s not the enemy.”
He sighs, guilt flickering across his face. “I know. Sorry, Osc.”
Oscar waves it off. “You’re good. Papa Bear mode. I get it.”
Your daughter reaches out to Oscar with a chubby hand. Lando hesitates, then lets her pat Oscar’s cheek — but she stays firmly in his arms.
---
Later, when the paddock quiets and the sun dips low, you find Lando sitting on the steps behind the motorhome. Your daughter is asleep on his chest, her tiny fist curled in the fabric of his race suit.
He looks up when you sit beside him.
“I feel like I failed her,” he whispers.
“You didn’t.”
“I promised I’d keep her safe. I promised I’d keep her world small until she was old enough to choose otherwise.”
You rest your head on his shoulder. “You kept her safe. Someone else broke that trust.”
He swallows hard. “I hate that people think they’re entitled to her. To us. She didn’t ask for any of this.”
You brush a curl from your daughter’s forehead. “She has you. That’s enough.”
He turns to you, eyes softening. “She has us.”
You smile. “Us.”
He kisses you — slow, lingering, full of everything he can’t put into words. When he pulls back, he looks down at your daughter again.
“I’m going to fix this,” he murmurs. “I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care who I piss off. No one gets to take pieces of her without our permission.”
You lace your fingers with his. “We’ll protect her together.”
He exhales, finally letting some of the tension leave his body. “She really does have my eyes, doesn’t she?”
“She does,” you whisper. “And your stubbornness.”
He smirks. “Poor kid.”
You laugh quietly, careful not to wake her. “She’ll survive.”
“With us as parents? Debatable.”
You lean into him, watching the last bit of sunlight fade. “We’ll figure it out.”
He kisses the top of your head. “We always do.”
And with your daughter sleeping safely between you, the world feels small again — just the way you wanted it.
