summary: elena and oscar are both facing career-defining weekends in two different sports, with paris and monaco pulling them in opposite directions. what follows is a mix of pressure, love, chaos, and the kind of support that turns an already iconic weekend into something unforgettable.
contains: f1 x tennis trope, social media au, established relationship, fluff, tennis player oc, monaco gp weekend, roland-garros final, career grand slam, soft boyfriend oscar, sports power couple vibes.
two grand slams | two words
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a/n: this is my first time ever doing a smau-type story, so i hope you enjoy it! some visuals use maria sharapova as elena’s face claim, and a few edits were made with ai just to help with the smau/storytelling vibe. nothing is meant seriously or as any kind of impersonation — it’s all just for the fic!
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“oscar, you have to get in the car.”
oscar heard tom’s voice somewhere behind him.
the mclaren garage was loud around him, full of monaco qualifying tension — mechanics moving around the car, engineers watching data, tyres waiting in blankets, cameras hovering just outside the garage.
he knew qualifying in monaco was half the race. he knew he should have been putting on his gloves, lowering himself into the cockpit, clearing his head of everything that was not braking points and tyre temperature and the walls waiting inches from his front wing.
instead, he stood in the middle of the garage with his helmet hanging from one hand, eyes fixed on the television.
court philippe-chatrier filled the screen.
orange clay. white lines. a packed stadium holding its breath.
elena ricci stood at the baseline.
she bounced the ball once.
“oscar,” tom said again, firmer this time. “car. now.”
oscar nodded once, still watching the screen.
“yeah,” he said. “in a minute.”
from somewhere to his left, lando laughed.
“you’re actually insane.”
on the screen, elena looked calm.
oscar knew that look. he had seen it after losses she insisted did not hurt, after press conferences where journalists asked about clay again, after practice sessions where she stayed long after everyone else had packed up because roland garros was the one thing people still held against her.
two australian opens. two wimbledons. one us open.
five grand slams at twenty-three.
and still, paris had remained the missing piece.
now she was in the roland-garros final against mirra andreeva, and oscar was supposed to walk away.
he tightened his grip around the helmet.
the entire mclaren garage went quiet.
she served wide. mirra returned deep. elena slid into the next ball and sent it sharp across the court. the rally built quickly, each shot harder than the last, the sound of the ball cracking through the speakers and filling every corner of the garage.
oscar forgot, for a second, that he was wearing a race suit.
forgot there was a car waiting for him.
then elena changed direction.
elena had taken the first set, 7-6(5).
the garage erupted like she had just put mclaren on pole.
oscar exhaled so hard it almost hurt.
lando slapped his shoulder. “there we go.”
oscar tried not to smile.
on the screen, elena walked toward her chair, towel pressed to her face. she did not celebrate too much. she never did before the job was done. one set did not win a final. one set did not erase years of being asked if clay was the surface she would never conquer.
the camera followed her as she sat down, reaching for her bottle with hands that looked steadier than oscar knew they probably were. her coach leaned forward in the player box, speaking quickly, his hands moving through instructions she might not even hear. her father sat beside him, pale and silent. her physio had both hands pressed together near her mouth, like she had forgotten how to breathe.
oscar knew every face in that box.
four years had made elena part of mclaren in a way no one questioned anymore. she knew mechanics by name, remembered birthdays, brought coffee when she came early, sent lando insulting voice notes after bad golf rounds, and watched races from hotel rooms when tournaments kept her away.
the mclaren garage loved elena.
zak brown appeared beside tom.
that was when oscar knew the battle was over.
zak crossed his arms, looked from oscar to the tv and back again.
“great match,” he said. “car. now.”
zak pointed toward the mclaren.
lando looked delighted. “boss has spoken.”
oscar took one last look at the screen. elena was standing again, ready for the second set. her face was still calm, but oscar knew the storm beneath it.
then he turned toward the car.
“tell me if anything happens,” he said.
tom’s mouth twitched. “that is very much not my job.”
oscar nodded, climbed into the car, and lowered himself into the cockpit with the expression of a man being forced to leave his heart in another country.
oscar drove q1 like a man with unfinished business.
monaco gave nothing away for free. the walls sat close enough to punish hesitation, traffic appeared exactly where he did not need it to be, and every corner demanded more focus than he had available.
for a minute, he forgot about paris.
brake. turn. breathe. commit.
but the second he crossed the line and knew the lap was enough, the world widened again.
“how’s the match?” he asked over the radio.
then tom answered, “early in the second. on serve.”
“you’re asking for tennis scores during monaco qualifying.”
tom did not answer, but oscar could hear the smile he was trying to hide.
orange clay reflected faintly on his visor whenever the car came back into the garage. elena moving. mirra moving. a scoreboard too far away to read.
one of the mechanics turned immediately. “elena up 4-3. on serve.”
another mechanic added, “she looks good.”
oscar looked at him. “yeah?”
that helped more than it should have.
then q3 came, and monaco changed.
the air felt sharper. every camera angle seemed closer. every sector time carried more weight. every driver knew a pole lap here was not just a pole lap.
oscar rolled out of the garage knowing elena was somewhere deep in the second set in paris.
he did not ask for the score that time.
there was nowhere left in his head to put the answer.
he brushed close to the barriers, close enough for everyone watching to inhale at once, but not close enough to lose it. the car snapped beneath him and he caught it. the tyres came alive. sector one lit up. sector two held. sector three demanded faith.
when he crossed the line, there was a pause.
then tom’s voice cracked through the radio.
“pole, oscar. that’s pole.”
the grandstands blurred into papaya and noise.
for one second, pure relief hit him.
then, almost immediately—
tom actually laughed over the radio.
oscar’s whole body went cold.
oscar barely remembered the in-lap afterward.
he remembered being told to bring the car in. he remembered trying not to speed. he remembered the absurdity of having just done one of the best laps of his life and wanting only to get out of the car.
by the time he stopped in parc fermé, people were already waiting for him.
cameras. officials. team members. the usual blur of congratulations.
oscar pulled off the steering wheel, climbed out, and jumped down.
someone clapped him on the back.
someone shouted his name.
someone tried to guide him toward the post-qualifying interview area.
oscar pointed toward the garage.
the person blinked. “oscar, the interview—”
the cameras followed him because of course they did. the monaco pole-sitter walking away from celebration with his helmet tucked under one arm and his balaclava half-pulled off was not exactly subtle.
inside the mclaren garage, everyone had stopped pretending.
every face was turned toward the screen.
elena stood at the baseline.
oscar stopped dead a few steps inside the garage.
the noise behind him fell away.
his helmet hung from his hand.
he had just taken pole position in monaco and somehow looked like a man waiting for someone else’s result.
on the screen, elena bounced the ball.
mirra returned deep, forcing her back. elena adjusted quickly, sending the ball crosscourt. mirra met it early. the rally stretched, each shot dragging more sound from the paris crowd.
then elena slid into the next ball and sent it sharp across the court.
mirra stepped forward and tried to redirect.
the ball hit the net cord.
for half a second, it hovered.
the ball stayed in the net.
court philippe-chatrier erupted.
elena stared at the net like she did not understand what had happened.
then her racket fell from her hand.
and elena ricci collapsed onto the court as roland-garros champion.
“yes!” he shouted, voice breaking around the word. “that’s my girl!”
it came out of him raw and loud and completely unlike the careful, controlled version of himself the world was used to seeing. both hands flew to his head, his helmet nearly slipping from his grip, eyes locked on the television as elena pressed her face into the clay.
the mclaren garage detonated around him.
mechanics shouted. engineers clapped. lando sprinted in from wherever he had been and yelled so loudly oscar barely heard it. zak had both fists in the air. tom looked like he was trying very hard to remain professional and failing completely.
oscar stood there, laughing now, breathless, disbelieving.
“she did it,” he said, though no one could hear him over the noise. “she actually did it.”
on the screen, the italian flag appeared in the stands. her team was crying. her name filled the stadium.
elena ricci had won roland garros.
elena ricci had completed the career grand slam at twenty-three.
and only then, with elena still crying on the clay in paris, did oscar seem to remember what had happened minutes earlier in monaco.
lando grabbed him from the side, nearly knocking him over.
“you got pole, you idiot!”
oscar laughed, dazed and bright in a way he almost never allowed the cameras to catch.
oscar looked back at the tv one more time.
elena was standing now, clay streaked across her legs, laughing through tears.
then he turned back to the garage, lifted both arms, and finally let himself celebrate.
liked by oscarpiastri, alexandramalenaleclerc, f1 and 858,647 others
rolandgarros ELENA RICCI. ROLAND-GARROS CHAMPION. CAREER GRAND SLAM COMPLETE.
oscarpiastri never doubted you. so proud of you ❤️
elenaricci crying again, thank you 🤍
lando the garage is still recovering btw
mclaren papaya family is so proud 🧡
f1 history in paris. history loading in monaco? 👀
hattiepiastri so proud of you sis ❤️
alexandramalenaleclerc ELENAAAAA 😭❤️ so proud of you
charles_leclerc congratulations elena 👏👏 incredible achievement
kikagomes MY GIRL WON ROLAND GARROS!!!!!
carmenmmundt chills. so deserved 🤍
lilymhe literal queen behavior
rebeccadonaldson so so proud of you ❤️
janniksinner grande elena 🇮🇹👏
paulabadosa career grand slam. unreal. congrats girl 🤍
sabrinacarpenter icon icon icon
zendaya wow. congratulations 🤍
user1 SHE DID IT. SHE ACTUALLY DID IT. ROLAND GARROS IS HERS.
user2 everyone who said elena ricci couldn’t win on clay, start apologising NOW.
user3 she collapsed on the clay and i collapsed in my living room.
user4 oscar getting pole in monaco and then running to watch elena’s match point instead of celebrating… cinema.
user5 he screamed “that’s my girl” and then remembered he was literally on pole in monaco 😭
user6 the way she just stared at the net before dropping to the ground… she couldn’t even believe it herself
user7 ITALY STAND UP THAT’S OUR GIRL
user8 he got pole in monaco and still looked happier for her win. goodbye.
liked by elenaricci, mclaren, hattiepiastri and 1,572,829 others
f1 OSCAR PIASTRI TAKES POLE POSITION IN MONACO
elenaricci my love! so proud 🧡
oscarpiastri had to make the day interesting
mclaren POLE IN MONACO. we are not okay.
lando got pole and still cared more about the tennis score
zakbrown big day for papaya 🧡
rolandgarros heard there was more history being made in monaco 👀
wta elena wins roland-garros. oscar takes monaco pole. what a saturday.
charles_leclerc great lap mate 👏
alexandramalenaleclerc what a day for both of you 😭
kikagomes screaming for elena and oscar today!!!!!
carmenmmundt power couple weekend already 🤍
lilymhe no because this is actually insane
georgerussell63 mega lap mate
user1 bro got pole in monaco and said hold on my girlfriend is serving for roland garros
user2 elena ricci wins roland garros. oscar piastri takes monaco pole. are they real people or a netflix script?
user3 HE GOT MONACO POLE AND RAN TO WATCH ELENA’S MATCH POINT. I’M GONNA BE SICK.
user4 oscar celebrating elena before celebrating himself. romance is alive.
user5 this is not even my sport but oscar piastri you are so real for running to that garage
user6 the mclaren garage has experienced five years of stress in one afternoon
user7 pole in monaco and a girlfriend who just won roland garros. aura levels illegal.
user8 someone check on tom stallard because his driver was fighting for his life against the live tennis score
during the ceremony, elena smiled until her cheeks hurt.
she listened to the anthem. she lifted the trophy. then she spoke, messy and emotional and nothing like the polished version of herself she usually gave to the cameras.
then, she looked down for a second and smiled in a way that made the stadium soften.
“and oscar,” she said, her voice catching just slightly, “i know you’re busy in monaco, but i hope you know that i felt you with me every minute of this match. i love you, and i can’t wait to see you.”
a soft sound moved through the crowd before the cheering rose again.
elena laughed quietly, wiping under one eye as the noise wrapped around her.
the clip was everywhere before she had even left the court.
by the time she made it through photos, press, another dozen questions about finally winning on clay, and more hugs than she could count, paris had already started to blur around the edges.
the ache in her legs, the tightness in her chest, the weight of everything she had spent years chasing finally settling over her — all of it was real.
and still, as she got into the car toward the airport, exhausted and overwhelmed and barely holding herself together, there was only one person she wanted to fall apart with.
liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, lando, wta and 2,386,585 others.
elenaricci paris, you were worth the wait 🤍
oscarpiastri my champion. always.
⤷ elenaricci coming home to you❤️
mclaren our favorite tennis player 🧡
wta career grand slam club. welcome.
rolandgarros you made paris yours.
alexandramalenaleclerc i’m still crying 😭😭😭 love you
kikagomes SHE DID ITTTTTTTT
carmenmmundt so proud, so happy, so deserved 🤍
nicolepiastri proud of you, honey!
⤷ elenaricci thank you, mamma piastri!
lilymhe goosebumps. actual goosebumps.
rebeccadonaldson you deserve all of this and more ❤️
charles_leclerc amazing moment. congratulations 👏
hattiepiastri love u so much!
janniksinner orgoglio italiano 🇮🇹👏
paulabadosa one of the most beautiful moments. congrats angel 🤍
sabrinacarpenter crying screaming cheering
zendaya beautiful. congratulations 🤍
user1 the way she’s gripping that trophy like paris tried to take it back 😭
user2 the fact that oscar is probably reading this from monaco with tears in his eyes
user3 elena ricci finally owning the tournament that tried to break her every year. poetic.
user4 she’s holding that trophy like “you are NOT escaping me again”
user5 not her saying she’s going home to oscar after winning roland garros. i’m unwell.
user6 the clay era is officially hers now. nobody speak to me.
user7 that kiss on the trophy. yeah she waited years for this.
user8 this picture alone tells you how much this one meant to her.
liked by elenaricci, mclaren, f1, nicolepiastri and 2,104,882 others.
oscarpiastri pole in monaco. good saturday.
elenaricci casual saturday btw
⤷ oscarpiastri very casual.
lando post the part where you ran away from parc fermé
⤷ mclaren we have footage.
rolandgarros quite the saturday for your household.
zakbrown next time please get in the car when asked
alexandramalenaleclerc what a saturday for you two 😭
kikagomes good saturday is an understatement
lilymhe the most oscar caption ever
charles_leclerc mega lap 👏
user1 “good saturday” and the saturday in question is monaco pole + his girlfriend winning roland garros
user2 he got pole in monaco and wrote three words. this man is unserious.
user3 not him acting casual like he didn’t immediately run to watch elena’s match point
user4 oscar piastri said yes i got pole but have you seen my girlfriend?
user5 the way his first priority after getting pole was the tv 😭
user6 “good saturday” sir you just did the most romantic thing in the paddock
user7 mclaren saying “we have footage” RELEASE IT THEN
user8 he really said i’ll celebrate after i know if my girl won
sunday morning arrived too quickly.
elena woke to sunlight cutting across their bedroom floor and oscar already awake beside her, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.
her body ached from the match. her shoulder was tight, her legs heavy, the noise of paris still sitting somewhere behind her eyes.
then oscar turned his head toward her.
“morning, roland garros champion.”
elena laughed softly, still half-asleep.
“you start on pole today,” she said.
she reached for his hand under the sheet.
oscar’s thumb moved over her knuckles.
“you sound very confident.”
“because you won yesterday and now you think everything works like that?”
“no,” she said, smiling. “because i know what you can do.”
oscar looked away first, but not quickly enough to hide what it did to him.
by the time they arrived at the paddock, monaco had already turned hungry.
balconies packed with people. yachts lined along the harbour. cameras everywhere. the kind of race day that made even breathing feel public.
and still, when oscar and elena walked in together, the attention shifted.
elena felt it before she saw it. the cameras swinging. the murmurs rippling. phones lifting from behind barriers.
oscar walked beside her in mclaren kit, cap low, face calm in that particular way that meant he knew exactly how much attention they were getting and was choosing to ignore it.
his hand rested at the small of her back, steady and familiar, like it belonged there.
elena ricci, career grand slam champion less than twenty-four hours earlier, walked into the monaco paddock beside oscar piastri, the monaco pole-sitter.
the photographs looked unreal before they were even posted.
inside mclaren hospitality, the room cheered the second she stepped in.
elena laughed, caught off guard, one hand flying to her face.
lando appeared from nowhere, hands raised like he was presenting royalty.
“ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “the only person in this building who achieved something impressive yesterday.”
oscar turned his head slowly.
elena bowed. “thank you, thank you.”
“oscar also did something, apparently,” lando added.
“apparently,” oscar said.
zak hugged her carefully. tom smiled at her from beside him.
“you caused a lot of operational stress yesterday,” tom said.
later, when the jokes faded and the garage became sharper, quieter, elena stood near the back with a headset over her ears and watched oscar listen to his engineers.
she had seen him like this before.
still. focused. almost detached.
he just knew where to put it.
a few minutes before he had to leave for the grid, he found her near the side of the garage.
elena laughed softly. “you’re asking me?”
she studied him for a second, taking in the set of his shoulders, the way his jaw had gone quiet, the way his eyes kept flicking toward the car like he was already halfway inside it.
his mouth twitched, but it did not quite become a smile.
he looked down for half a second.
“a normal amount of nervous,” he admitted.
elena stepped closer, reaching up to adjust the collar of his fireproofs even though there was nothing wrong with it.
“you are amazing,” she said quietly, “no matter what happens out there.”
the garage noise seemed to dim.
“good.” she squeezed his hand once, then let go. “go win your race, piastri.”
he leaned in, kissed her quickly, and murmured against her mouth, “yes, ma’am.”
the start was everything.
elena stood in the mclaren garage with headphones over her ears, heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
she had played grand slam finals. she had served for championships. she knew pressure well enough to recognise its footsteps.
but watching oscar start from pole in monaco was different.
when she played, fear had somewhere to go.
here, she could only watch.
for the first corner, the whole garage seemed to inhale.
the exhale nearly knocked elena over.
lap five became lap fifteen.
monaco unfolded in narrow streets and controlled breathing. oscar led with the same precision he had carried through qualifying, placing the car exactly where it needed to be, lap after lap.
elena watched his name at the top of the timing tower.
every time the camera cut to his onboard, she found herself studying his hands.
small corrections. calm inputs. the barrier too close. the car too fast.
he made it look clean, which elena knew meant it was anything but easy.
then the timing screen flashed purple beside his name.
elena stared at it for a second before it settled.
by lap seventy, she had stopped pretending she was calm.
there were no dramatic lunges. no unnecessary risks. no wild radio messages. just oscar, monaco, and the kind of control that had to be chosen again and again.
the final lap arrived like a held breath.
elena stood without remembering when she had done it.
the mclaren crossed the line.
for one impossible second, there was silence.
then tom’s voice came through the broadcast delay and the garage at once.
“monaco grand prix winner, oscar piastri. that is a grand slam. pole, fastest lap, every lap led. fantastic drive.”
the mclaren garage erupted for the second time in twenty-four hours.
elena’s hands flew to her face.
she laughed and cried at the same time, overwhelmed by the noise, by the orange, by everyone shouting oscar’s name.
but she could only look at the screen.
oscar slowed after the line, one hand lifting briefly from the steering wheel.
his voice came over the radio, quieter than the garage deserved.
“thank you. really good car. thank you, everyone.”
oscar’s reply came instantly.
elena burst into a wet laugh.
tom looked across the garage directly at her, smiling.
“yes, mate. good crying.”
liked by elenaricci, maxverstappen1, janniksinner and 3,729,385 others
f1 OSCAR PIASTRI WINS THE MONACO GRAND PRIX!!
pole. win. fastest lap. every lap led.
a grand slam in monte carlo.
elenaricci my winner. so proud of you 🧡
⤷ oscarpiastri had to keep up with you
mclaren we are never recovering from this weekend.
lando unbearable. both of you.
atptour grand slam energy travels fast.
wta grand slam x grand slam. what a weekend.
rolandgarros paris 🤝 monaco
maxverstappen1 congrats mate
charles_leclerc well done mate 👏
alexandramalenaleclerc this weekend belongs to you two 😭
kikagomes ELENA YESTERDAY OSCAR TODAY I CAN’T DO THIS
carmenmmundt actual chills. congratulations 🤍
lilymhe this is insane. like actually insane.
rebeccadonaldson power couple weekend ❤️
janniksinner big weekend for italian tennis and papaya 😂👏
user1 elena career grand slam saturday. oscar monaco grand slam sunday. scriptwriters went crazy.
user2 he really said my girlfriend won roland garros so i guess i’ll win monaco.
user3 she won the grand slam she was missing and he won monaco the next day. this is not real life.
user4 oscar saw elena complete the career grand slam and said hold my steering wheel.
user5 monaco grand slam after roland garros career grand slam. the branding is branding.
user6 this is the most fanfic-coded sports weekend in history and i’m eating it up.
user7 mclaren garage had two emotional breakdowns in 24 hours.
user8 oscar and elena are never beating the it couple allegations after this.
oscar pulled himself out of the car as the world roared around him. he stood on top of it, raised both fists, and let the noise hit him.
then he jumped down, barely hearing the congratulations thrown at him, and turned toward the mclaren barrier.
she stood behind the barrier with tears on her face, smiling so hard it looked like it hurt. around her, the team was still celebrating, but she was completely still, eyes only on him.
oscar moved toward her as if pulled.
someone tried to hand him a cap. someone else tried to direct him toward the weighing area.
he heard none of it properly.
“you did it,” elena said, voice breaking.
oscar laughed, breathless. “you did it first.”
then his hands were on her face and hers were around his neck, and the kiss landed in the middle of the noise like something the whole weekend had been building toward.
oscar was still sweaty, still shaking with adrenaline. elena was still crying, still exhausted from a final played the day before. the barrier pressed awkwardly between them, cameras catching every second.
when he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers for half a second.
“you got your grand slam,” she whispered.
oscar kissed her once more, quick and soft, before someone finally managed to pull him toward the post-race formalities.
as he walked away, he looked back.
elena was still there, surrounded by papaya, wiping under her eyes while lando said something that made her shove him lightly in the shoulder.
oscar thought, with a clarity that felt almost absurd, that he had never loved anyone more.
elenaricci ✓ and oscarpiastri ✓
liked by carlitosalcarazz, carlossainz55, hattiepiastri, f1 and 5,602,118 others
oscarpiastri twenty-four hours. two dreams. same person beside me through all of it.
proud of us always 🧡
elenaricci proud of us more🤍
⤷ oscarpiastri impossible
lando can you both stop winning things for one second
carlitosalcarazz big weekend 😂👏
nicolepiastri so happy with you, my babies!
carlossainz55 congrats to both of you 👏
alexandramalenaleclerc crying again actually
kikagomes THE couple of the weekend
lilymhe unfair amount of aura in one post
carmenmmundt proud of you both 🤍
user1 she’s his biggest fan and he’s hers. that’s the whole thing. that’s why it works.
user2 she completed the career grand slam and he got a monaco grand slam. nobody is touching them.
user3 lando asking them to stop winning things 😭
user4 this is the most it couple post i’ve ever seen
⤷ user5 this is not an it couple. this is THE it couple.
user5 the way they both had the biggest weekend of their careers and still made it about each other 😭
user6 no because they don’t even try to be iconic, they just ARE
user7 the way this weekend sounds fake but it happened
user8 oscar and elena are the reason i believe in love and also why my standards are unreasonable
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