Fishformula - Just A Fish Going Insane

➤ OBLIVIOUS | F1 SMAU + FIC

pairing: f1 grid x albon!reader (platonic!)

summary: the f1 drivers make the mistake of saying they're always aware of their surroundings, so you start an Instagram account to prove them wrong...by seeing how long it takes them to realize you're taking photos of them.

warnings: none!

➤ MASTERLIST

Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63, and others

visacashapprb Do your F1 drivers know when we're recording them? Or anyone, for that matter? Seems like the answer is yes! 

↳ yn_albon really @/alexalbon? 

↳ alex_albon I am very observant, thank you very much 

↳ yn_albon we'll see about that

↳ fan44 there's literally paparazzi footage of the drivers every other day, of course they notice, they just pretend like they don't

_

Liked by yn_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers the guys said they know when they're being photographed, my camera roll says otherwise

↳ mclar_win Oscar's side eye is crazy 

↳ brocedes this HAS to be like George or someone proving a point

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers George wishes he was me

↳ fan16 this is either a prank or a stalker...watch out guys

_

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers first up: dumb and dumber 🧡 i should start timing how long it takes for them to notice 

↳ alex_albon if I end up in one of these, I'm telling everyone 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers no promises

↳ f1_fantatic alex, our chronically online king

↳ fan44 oscar and lando together = fork found in kitchen

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Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers in the lead as always, Max Verstappen comes in first by taking two days to notice!

↳ mclar_win max always has to be first, doesn't he?

↳ fan44 no wonder he looks so happy 

↳ mad_maxxx why is the second picture lowkey...

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Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers i got too cocky 😔 tried to go for the super close up and got caught :( current record: three days

↳ fan16 so both Max and Charles now know your identity??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers they've already been sworn to secrecy

↳ carcarcar who could this be?? charles was happy to see them so it wasn't a stranger

↳ f1_fanatic i mean, alex is lurking in the likes 👀

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Liked by alex_albon, yn_albon, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers idk what made him more mad, the fact that he crashed or the fact he caught me

↳ alex_albon we had a promise 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers i literally said no promises

↳ alex_albon get ready to give up this account 

↳ mclar_win it has to be George, right? 

↳ carcarcar if it were George he'd be smiling liked by oblivious_f1_drivers

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Liked by lando, georgerussell63 and others

oblivious_f1_drivers a week and a half for Mr. Lando Norris! i would've taken more but this man was too excited to catch me

↳ lando See? I'm very observant

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers it took you a week and a half to catch me

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers even alex got it in less time 

↳ alex_albon hey!

↳ georgerussell63 any chance I can beg for immunity?

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers send me photos of oblivious drivers, and then maybe we'll talk

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Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers someone tipped him off...at least I snuck one in

↳ alex_albon 😇

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers we could've had something, alex 

↳ alex_albon you're the one who broke their promise 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I NEVER PROMISED

↳ alex_albon wait why are you that close to lance in the third photo 

↳ alex_albon answer your texts!!

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Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers what's this? oscar finally noticed? after TWO WEEKS? enjoy all the photos

↳ oscarpiastri listen we have a lot to do during race weeks 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers like pay attention to your photographers??

↳ oscarpiastri that's not even your job

↳ nicolepiastri so it's not just me being ignored?

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/oscarpiastri text your mom or I'm stealing her

↳ oscarpiastri will do 🫡

↳ brocedes so we KNOW its not a photographer

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Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63 and others

oblivious_f1_drivers looks like we're not the ONLY oblivious ones #/hacked #/alexandgeorgehaveyourphone #/thebetteralbon

↳ yn_albon GEORGE???

↳ georgerussell63 why are you mad at me?? be mad at alex!

↳ alex_albon yeah george, how could you do this?

↳ f1_fanatic the albon siblings causing trouble on track as usual 

↳ lando payback for having to look over my shoulder all week

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You hold your hand out to Alex, who reluctantly drops your phone into your palm. Sometimes, you think, people forget you were actual siblings, who had just the same amount of fun annoying each other as any other pair of siblings in the world. The only difference, however, was that your brother happened to be a world-famous F1 driver, and you were a journalist trailing him around all day. 

So honestly? You were perfectly within your rights to post all those silly photos of him and his friends. After all, it was something to occupy you in the rare moments you weren't hearing about being an Albon, or growing up around all the drivers, or waiting for Alex to come to an interview ten minutes late because you couldn't really say anything about it.

"I can't believe you," You direct both towards Alex and George, checking to make sure they didn't mess with anything else on your phone. 

You had to give them some credit in their retaliation. Alex must have been sneaking photos of you all week, and then airdropped them to your phone to put onto your Instagram account. You'd never say that out loud, however.

Lord knows he didn't need the extra ego.

"Me?" Alex asks, looking rather insulted. "You're the one out here taking photos of us secretly." 

"You're the one who said you weren't oblivious. I've seen you walk into a pole! Be serious." There's a joke to be made about him walking into poles yet never getting pole, but that's a bit too harsh, even for you. 

"Be serious?" Alex parrots, rubbing a hand over his face. "Be serious! You are so lucky you're family, or I would've kicked you out of the paddock by now." 

With the same grin you'd been pulling on him since you were a kid, you force him to reconcile with the fact that he actually did this to himself. "Unfortunately, you did also get me a job with F1, so you couldn't even kick me out if you tried." 

"I'm sure they'd let me kick someone out if I needed to." He mutters, shaking his head, and before you can open your mouth, he raises a finger. "We're not making another bet about this." 

George, finally content with how the conversation has ended, speaks up. "I can't believe it took Oscar so long to notice." 

"I know, I thought it would be Charles." Alex answers honestly, and George pauses for a moment before turning to you.

"Should I be concerned I never caught you taking pictures of me?" His expression is stuck somewhere between the horror of potentially not noticing you and relief that you might have excluded him, considering the deal you struck up. To your surprise, George actually did supply you with oblivious photos of the drivers, a sort of double blackmail you can't wait to spring.

And, while he hasn't ended up on the account yet, there's still time.

He did help steal your phone, after all. He will pay. "I just didn't get to post yours. You're also pretty oblivious." 

"No, I'm not!" He says, pointing down at your phone. "We checked the camera roll, there was nothing of me on there!" 

"You think I'd leave those on my camera roll?" You ask with the same grin, now pointed at him. "Oh, I keep my secrets much more guarded, thank you." Alex offers a look, and you shove his shoulder. So maybe he had a point about you leaving your phone unattended around a man who knew the password and knew you ran a secret account, but still! "This secret doesn't count." 

"I'm sure it doesn't," Alex says with a laugh before leaning in closer. "Any good ones of George?" 

"Got one of him picking his nose?" 

With a screech you can only describe as inhuman, George loses all the colour in his face. "You do not!" Then, as he reaches for your phone, both you and Alex take a step back. "Albons, don't do this to me!" 

You and Alex are running before George even has a chance to catch up. 

It's a rare time Alex ever actually beats George in a race.

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Liked by lando, alex_albon, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers my cover has been blown :( it was fun while it lasted

↳ alex_albon I'm really glad I got you hired as a journalist and not a photographer, these are terrible

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers ow??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I can't even be a nepo sister in peace

↳ isackhadjar oh come on 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers your expression captures how I feel, it deserves the first slide

↳ georgerussell63 hey, i thought we had a deal 

↳ alex_albon you made a deal with george and not me??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/georgerussell63 the deal ended when YOU STOLE MY PHONE 

a/n: my friends have started playing photo tag on campus, which is the only way i can describe where this came from - enjoy?

My weird observation lately was that how is it usually Oscar grabbing other’s thumb when doing handshake, but with Carlos, the handshake is firm and like, locked it.

imola gp was certainly...something. ferrari bringing themselves back into the points, aston martin losing it all, the race really had something for everybody. what i really want to know is, what was happening at williams??? like this is a genuine question because i was locked out of the race and i do not know why carlos had to claw himself up from p14 when he qualified p6. if any carlos scholars out there are doing race analysis i would be grateful for a tag 🙇

if the lego car race had happened in 2024...

merry christmas, please don't call - brocedes

tagged by @testarossa @crudeoildistillation @magnificentbirb (last week kekekeke) and @seaplease for wip wednesday!

“Uh,” Carlos says, in a poor attempt to stall for time. “Could you let me keep my identification, at least? And one credit card? It’s my turn to pay for dinner.”

Teto’s always told him to get Apple Pay set up. Teto’s going to have the time of his life when he finds out.

His assailant sticks out a hand, crooking his fingers in the universal gesture for, Hand it over.

“Fine,” Carlos says sullenly.

He’ll have to cancel his cards, which is annoying. He’ll have to report his stolen driver’s license, which is even more annoying. Damn this place. And damn Oscar, for even suggesting they get out for some dinner. Carlos should have known better than to listen to him—ever.

“Not my phone,” Carlos says, dismayed. “I’ve already given you what you asked. Por favor, there’s close to five hundred dollars in my wallet.”

Some yelling, some posturing with the baseball bat, the tip of which gets very close to Carlos’s nose. He almost grows cross-eyed trying to track its wayward path. The Gigi in his mind is yelling at him, don’t negotiate, don’t attempt it, give the guy what he wants. Just give it to him! But adrenaline builds up, coursing down from the top of his head to the rest of his body. There’s, well. There’re texts in his phone. There’re pictures. Not just of himself.

Decision made in a second. The burst of charge exits out his feet like lightning, and Carlos stops thinking to pivot and run. More yelling, followed by the metallic clank of the baseball bat narrowly missing him and finding a permanent mark in the alley wall. Fucking hell, have they never heard of a streetlamp in Melbourne? Where the hell is he going? Left first, then right. Huff, huff, breathe deep, breathe even. There’s absolutely no way some random guy trying to rob him can outstrip Carlos in a competition of speed. No way. Never mind that it’s been happening in a different context entirely. There’re no machines involved here. Just the strength of his legs, and a body which hasn’t abandoned him yet. The phone he holds in a death grip in his right hand. Head down, arms swing, go, go, go—

Fuck, ow. Ow. Fuck.

Apparently, there’re curbs and things which serve to trip people when they’re running through the street. Down he goes in a mess of limbs. He scrapes his elbow, forearms, then palms in quick succession. Skin rolled up on the surface like crumpled paper, he’ll start bleeding in a minute. Breath knocked out of him, Carlos barely has time to toss himself around, and raise an arm up to defend against the baseball bat swinging its merry way down.

A shocked gasp, a wounded sound, made by someone other than him. Carlos forces his scrunched eyes open. There’s a patch of dark in front of him, or above him rather, darker than the surrounding night. Half of the dark patch has a face. A mouth grimacing, lips caught in between teeth. Huh. Cute teeth.  

Carlos doesn’t know much about Melbourne’s vigilante, only that he makes appearances in the night and dresses in stylish Kevlar. No amount of padding is going to stop a baseball bat from hurting though.

“Get up,” Carlos whispers to him.

Those lips wobble, and then flatten as if in annoyance, and Masked Man shifts his weight off of Carlos. Like he’s affronted. It appears as though Carlos can do no right, tonight.

The baseball bat makes its move again, though the sound of impact is weaker this time, panicked. Masked Man growls, pissed off. Carlos swallows down a squeak. Another attempt at a swing is caught in a gloved palm, and Masked Man jerks the bat out of the assailant’s hands with enough force for the guy to stumble back, wind in his sails all gone. The fight’s pretty much over, which is slightly anti-climatic. Guy Who Used to Have Baseball Bat is already hightailing it out of here.

“Ay,” Carlos says, when it becomes abundantly clear Masked Man isn’t going to say anything. “Dating, am I right? Dangerous scene.”

Masked Man flings himself around, presumably to chastise Carlos for gallivanting in the dark, but any form of lecture dissolves into a hiss of pain. A very small, very unguarded sound. Only now does Carlos notice Masked Man is devoid of Kevlar, apart from the cowl and the gloves. He’s donned in a black, soft turtleneck, and nice, slim-fitting jeans.

“You patrol without armour?” Unbelievable, prioritising fashion over functionality. “What kind of vigilante are you?”

The mouth moves into a scowl. Carlos is no lip-reader, but it isn’t hard when Masked Man’s teeth form around the word Idiot so clearly.

“Yes, yes.” Carlos rolls his eyes. “I shouldn’t have been out, yes?”

Masked Man glares, gesturing indignantly at Carlos’s phone, still somehow nestled in his right hand.

“Hey,” Carlos says weakly. He clutches the phone to his chest. “I have important things in here.”

Masked Man glares even more, batting away Carlos’s attempts to reach out. Guilt niggles at the base of Carlos’s spine, worms its way into his chest. Masked Man had stepped in between Carlos and a baseball bat with no form of protection, whatsoever. Nothing but his bare back, which should be turning black-and-blue right about now. Carlos doesn’t point out that Masked Man should probably seek medical attention, knowing very well it wouldn’t be appreciated.

“Ice first,” Carlos blurts out, before Masked Man can whisk himself away in smoke, or however cool, edgy way superheroes like to disappear. “Ice to reduce swelling. Heat for later to encourage healing.”

The cowl blends seamlessly into the night with how dark it is. Vantablack, Carlos’s brain supplies, somewhat impressed. It only serves to highlight the whites in Masked Man’s eyes, shocked and round, like he can’t believe Carlos would say something even remotely helpful. 

“I get bruises all the time,” Carlos insists, somehow wanting to prove his expertise. Masked Man straightens up agitatedly, and Carlos waves it off. “From seatbelts. It’s a long story. Listen. Ice first, then heat, okay?”

A half shrug.

Carlos nods, satisfied. He turns around, allowing Masked Man the privacy to disappear in a suitably cool way. Takes less than a few seconds, and Masked Man is gone.

It takes Carlos a few more seconds to realize he’s forty-five minutes past when he was supposed to meet Oscar, and also hopelessly lost. He retraces his steps like a baby foal while texting Caco, completely unaware of his surroundings in a way that Masked Man would surely disapprove.

hey could you cancel my cards

What why.

Carlos why

Carlos?

never mind, i am all good. Wonders of wonders, his wallet is safely tucked into his back pocket, as if it had never left. Carlos grins. Masked Man is very sneaky! He has saved Carlos having to make a police report, which makes him ace in Carlos’s book. Carlos should get on the hero forums on Reddit and rate him. He should do that now, before he forgets.

melbourne’s masked man: five stars!

fought off a baseball bat with just gloves and returned my wallet. he should try to wear padding of some sort. cool mask.

Carlos hesitates. Adds: cute teeth. it was all i could see of his face

By the time he makes it to the restaurant, Carlos is so late he’d be surprised if Oscar didn’t throw a glass of water at him. It’s a little sadder to discover Oscar isn’t even there. In fairness, Carlos would be pretty annoyed if his dinner partner were to show up as if he came from a different time zone. All the same, it would have been nice if Oscar at least texted before he left. Even to say, Where the hell are you?

Carlos sulks at his phone. Someone liked his review on Reddit. His stomach growls petulantly. Well, fuck it. Oscar did say the BBQ here was good.

--

He will never go as far as to say he’s “good” at media, but with this many fan stages under his belt, the questions are no longer as tricky to navigate. How are you feeling about your chances this weekend? Anything you want to say to the fans? When will you go on a golf date with Alex? Carlos smiles and answers in half-truths, all the while tracing the chicanes of the Shanghai track in his head. The first two bends lead immediately into turn three and four. One and two are more difficult, requiring lift on entry, but a good exit is necessary on four. Yes, I gave some good advice to the rookies. Keep pushing always.

It takes Carlos a surprising long time to notice. Surprising because he’s been priding himself on noticing, lately. Whether the swoop of hair on Oscar’s forehead falls to the left or the right, how many freckles he’s accumulating as the weeks go by. On stage, Oscar’s gone ahead and dissociated so hard he isn’t even on the same planet. Staring out at some spot between the crowd and the ground, mouth soft in its slackness. Carlos recognizes the look. He can only hope he’s never been this obvious.

“Oscar,” he says, voice hovering between teasing and tentative. “You haven’t talked.”

Oscar’s scowl disappears so quickly no one else would’ve caught it. But, well. Carlos has been noticing.

“I was quite happy just standing here,” Oscar says, almost resigned, but then media personality kicks in and he launches into a suitable answer.

Oops, Carlos thinks, and certainly enough, backstage, Oscar yanks him away into a corner.

“Mate,” he says, looking this close to stomping his foot. Carlos might go so far as to say he’s whining. Imagine that, Oscar whining. “You, like, shift into a separate dimension all the time during interviews and I’m nice enough not to point it out in front of hundreds of people.”

Carlos juts his jaw out, catches Oscar’s eyes following the movement. He’s trying to stall for time. In truth he could’ve left Oscar to his own devices. Why didn’t he? Saying he wanted to hear Oscar talk was going to scrape a little too close to his ribs for his liking.

“You stood me up,” he blurts out. It’s possible he’s panicking a little. “I didn’t know what to order! They gave me the giant barbeque platter. Do you know how sad that made me look? Eating all the chicken wings by myself?”

Oscar’s face makes some ridiculous shape, eyebrows shooting up, eyes growing wide, mouth forming around outrage.

“You—that’s why you called me out on stage?” Oscar says. He’s being so incredulous and Carlos probably shouldn’t laugh. “You’re. You’re the worst!”

“Aw,” Carlos says, somewhat unaffected, but now growing equally incredulous. “So why did you?”

Oscar flushes, all the way down from his hairline. It’s not not cute. “I was—I mean, there was. An incident. And I. Couldn’t get to you in time.”

“Oh-kay,” Carlos says, shrugging as nonchalantly as he can. It’s not as if Oscar was the one getting mugged. “Don’t tell me then. You’re lucky I’m very forgiving.”

He claps Oscar on the back vigorously to show how forgiving he is. What he doesn’t expect is the way Oscar stiffens, so hard it looks painful. The planes of his face shift, and colour leeches out of his skin quicker than litmus paper in acid. From pink to pallor. In a failed attempt to stop any noise escaping, Oscar catches his bottom lip with his two front teeth, so hard he might draw blood.

Huh. His teeth.

If. If Carlos had. Retired last year. He doesn’t like thinking about that, how close it felt to coming true. But if it had happened. It’s possible he could’ve transitioned to another role in the garage. He might have struggled with algebra, according to his old math teacher, but he’s good with statistics, data. He knows how to put pieces of a puzzle together. And he knows when they fit just right.

Carlos takes Oscar’s trembling elbow, very gently. “Gigi keeps some painkillers in the motorhome, c’mon.”

There’s a moment in which Carlos thinks Oscar will try to refuse him, and he’d have to sling Oscar over his shoulder somehow to force his compliance. But then Oscar clenches his jaw, and obediently allows himself to be led away.

“I shouldn’t have,” Oscar says, midway through Carlos cramming a pill down Oscar’s throat like he would an uncooperative cat, “been out late last night. That’s, uh. That’s why I’m in. Such rough shape.”

“Oh yes. Partying with Lando usually results in aches and pain and tears the next day. You know what else results in aches and pain and tears?”

Oscar stares at him, stiffening.

“Getting a baseball bat to the back,” Carlos says wisely. “And then underdosing on painkillers so you can appear lucid on stage.”

“Not that lucid,” Oscar mumbles. “You caught me.”

Carlos wants Oscar to un-porcupine himself. Wants some softness for his poor, bruised back. “I have nothing against doing the, vigi--vigilante?”

“Vigilantism.”

“Thank you. Nothing against that. Just against illogical, unpadded, nonsense armour.”

“I know.” Oscar rolls his eyes. “I read your review. Someone saves your life and the first thing you do is to complain online. Typical.”

“Typical Carlos,” Carlos says, smiling.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, though his shoulders are less hunched now, and he’s smiling right back. “Typical Carlos.”

NOOOO CARLOS 😭

Never ever letting this article rest.

The people's (Alex's) princess

PRINCESS GEORGE IN THE DIANA REVENGE DRESS