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READ THIS!! it's beyond amazing ♡♡

Lando.jpg - Landoscar drabble 🧡 📸

Couldn't help but write this lil drabble of photographer Lando taking cute pics of Oscar :)) I saw these and immediately typed it up on a doc. Super rough draft but making this into a full fic for after the GP! Enjoy <333

Click. 

It happens before Oscar notices the dark lens to his right, the reflective glass trained on him for a fleeting moment before it dips down to reveal fluffy brown curls and a soft smile.

The expression on Lando’s face is unbridled. His eyebrows–which had previously been furrowed in concentration–relax with the movement of his arm, gleaming eyes creasing at the corners. He feels something rise in his chest, coupled with the sensation of a balloon tugging the corners of his mouth upward. A faint flush reaches his ears when Oscar’s eyes reach his. 

“Huh?” Oscar lets out, puzzled. Tawny umber wisps cover his forehead in sectioned clouds, different from the usual parted strands that would frame his face. This time, the hair rests gently, almost long enough to reach his eyes. It’s different, Lando thinks. 

He likes it. More than he’d like to admit actually–his hands grip tighter around the curved body of the camera. It’s taking more effort than normal to prevent his hands from crossing the air between them and ruffling Oscar’s hair. He imagines it’d look messy, not in the way it typically looks after Oscar removes his balaclava–dishevelled and frantically fleeting from his head–but in the way that feels right when his hair scatters perfectly under Lando’s touch. 

“Lando?” The Brit snaps out of his trance and follows Oscar’s voice to his eyes. “Did you hear? We’re meeting with our engineers before practice tomorrow.” 

“When?” His attention perks up when he realises how fast time passes during race week. 

“It’s in your calendar” Oscar chuckles. “If you read it…unless you need me to read it for you?” His lighthearted jab almost comes across seriously, except Lando knows it’s in Oscar’s nature to be incredibly blunt. Underneath his stoic expression, he’s probably cackling to himself as he would to Lando behind closed doors.

He nearly forgets the presence of a few media members standing a metre away. They’re looking at their camera viewfinders, swiping through a few frames of the drivers’ brief interaction. At least two of those would make it onto the Mclaren page. 

Not that Lando minds, of course–not when he finds himself scrolling through Instagram at the end of the day, staring at images of every perspective of him and Oscar (mostly Oscar) to see how they look in others’ eyes. To see how Oscar looks in perspectives other than his own. He wants to know if their lenses also capture Lando’s point of view, just a few inches shy of the Aussie’s eye level and close enough in proximity to catch the tiny freckles dotting his complexion–and most likely every expanse of his skin. 

Lando’s face heats up quickly. Oscar doesn’t notice though, he’s already dipping through the sparse crowd of workers in the paddock, presumably to refresh his training on the simulator or walk the track with his race engineer. He looks over his shoulder once, a hand raised in a small wave. Lando grins back. He can’t help it when his camera raises to his eye, creating a tunnelled view of Oscar’s disappearing silhouette. 

The driver looks carefree, even with his back turned. Maybe it’s in his stance, or the way his shoulders drop back in their usual position, or how his head tilts upward to look at the sky. Rain clouds loom in the distance, the sun isn’t due for at least a few hours, but Oscar continues to look anyway.

Regardless, Lando’s certain that Oscar carries the sunshine with him because it’s uncanny how often Lando feels his warmth when he’s close by. 

He smiles to himself and can’t wait to browse the photos on his own time.

–

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People your age are getting married and you're on tumblr talking about formula 1

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first look vs latest look

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2023 vs 2024 🥹

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everyone please say "thank you" to my art teacher for giving me this idea (and providing me with an excuse to draw f1 in class lmaoo)

I have an art tag list now!! lmk if you'd like to be added :3 original pictures below the cut as always

@santongkabayo @lyslsstuff @cyclonixi

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This is... like, beyond perfection. I need this so bad right now! My life will not be complete without that fic.

thinking about oscar's small dainty princess hand and lando's big firm hands in times like these... small hand giving some cloth, a handkerchief, some ribbon, to bestow favor or to give a blessing and big hand taking it gently but keeping a white knuckle grip when turned away

Anon I think you're crazy for changing my brain chemistry unprovoked like that, but your vision is so correct.

I guess you did it on purpose but that image you just described reminds me of those medieval princesses giving out a ribbon or a piece of their clothes to a knight before a tournament, to show them their favor and support them and-... okay listen.

Prince charming and heir to the throne Oscar, and his childhood best friend turned sworn knight Lando. Trained together, fought together in battle. Lando standing one step behind him when Oscar sits on his throne, one hand on his sword at all times. Oscar tying a piece of ribbon around Lando's armored gauntlet before each tournament to grant him a bit of his protectiveness and luck. Oscar's pretty delicate hands, made for ruling, sliding in Lando's battered large hands, forged for combat. The mutual protection, the honor, the sacred oath between them, the thrill of their secret relationship... The fucking power play of Lando kneeling before his prince and calling Oscar "your highness" in front of all, and kneeling between his thighs at night when they're alone, still calling him his highness but in an enterily different way and tone when Oscar's under him, at his mercy.

I've never considered writing a medieval fantasy au for landoscar before this ask, good job Anon, making me fall back into my darkest teen writing inclinations 😭😭

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POR UNA CABEZA

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~ life is a game of cards ~

...and so is racing, apparently 🃏

[please don't steal or repost outside of tumblr. thank you.]

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“I sent him a text yesterday, and he seems OK,” Piastri said. “It was a little bit of a shock, obviously it wasn’t an easy time for him in F1. I think it was much more difficult for him than maybe I expected it to be, going into F1. For me, his potential was much greater than what was on show in F1, for whatever reason it might be.

“But I know first-hand, being his teammate in the junior categories, racing him in basically everything, I know how quick he is. I don’t think the change was completely unexpected. Quite a bold move to put Franco in, I would say, but best of luck to him.

“Just a shame that I think he probably had… For whatever reason he wasn’t able to show everything he’s got, because in the junior categories he was genuinely one of the quickest guys I went up against. So I think his potential is much greater than what some people see.”

— Oscar Piastri on Logan Sargeant, via Racer.com.

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This sounds amazing already. Can't wait to read it!

about the kiss prompts. I'd love to read about landoscar for 5 *and* 6 - a kiss where it hurts and where it doesn't hurt. I think that would go amazing together. I was thinking about the emotional kind of hurt but please do whatever feels right :)

heyyyyy this is like. not the emotional kind of hurt. but i saw everybody writing kid fic landoscar on the feed and i had to join in or die, so have 1.5k of fluffy, sappy singledad!lando.

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

5. where it hurts & 6. where it doesn't hurt | landoscar | 1.5k

Lando’s been in love with Oscar for months already the first time he hears “I love you.”

It’s the kind of late-summer hot that burns off in the early evening, leaving you shivering and wondering when it started. Lando’s in the kitchen at his sister’s place, elbow deep in dishwater, as him mum prattles on about the very expensive wedding of the daughter of a neighbor Lando doesn’t remember from his childhood home.

“Personalized, engraved wine glasses,” she’s saying as he hands off another plate he’s rescued from the murky bottom of the sink so she can dry it. The window in front of them is thrown open so they can keep an eye on the backyard, where the rest of the family is nursing the last of the drinks they’d opened with dinner. Tied off to the fence posts, Lando’s niece’s birthday balloons float gently with the breeze that carries the sounds of a half-dozen conversations in for them to gather pieces of. If he listens hard enough, Lando can pick out his favorite accent from among them, several ticks off from the rest of the crowd’s English. It’s warm in Lando’s chest, the way Oscar has settled so easily today. He hadn’t been worried, but it’s the first time Lando’s brought him around to a whole family event like this – all three of them, Lando, Oscar and Emma – and everything has gone so remarkably smoothly.

“Insane, isn’t it?” His mum asks, drawing Lando’s attention back to the kitchen.

“Extravagant,” Lando agrees to appease her. He’s only halfway through sponging off the next handful of silverware when his focus is snatched right back up by the familiar, gut-tug sound of his daughter crying.

“Shit,” he says then as he scans the backyard through the screen to seek her out among his various relatives. It figures that she’d be fine all day while Lando was around, and the minute he’d ducked in to help with the washing, she’d find her way to trouble. His mum’s already handed off her dish towel for Lando to dry his palms with and he’s half-turned towards the door, cutlery abandoned back to the suds, when he finally spots Emma. She’s just reached three feet (on the small side for three-years-and-a-few-months old, but that was always going to happen with the genes Lando’d given her), so it’s mainly her curly head he can see as she runs back from the swings towards the patio, where the adults are all gathered.

“Gonna-” Lando hooks a thumb over his shoulder for his mum’s benefit, eyes still trained on his girl. Emma hits the group and skips right past the lost look he’d been expecting when she realized he wasn’t there, though, skips right over missing Lando and straight ahead to-

“Oscar,” she whines, arms outstretched and voice high like it gets when she’s upset. Lando watches from the kitchen as his boyfriend kicks off the wall to kneel next to her. He’s got half a beer still in one hand, but the other goes to Emma’s back as she falls into his shoulder. Lando’s heart feels racing and stopped all at the same time as he watches Oscar murmur to her, too low for him to hear across the garden.

It's a minute before she’s coaxed back up out of his chest. Her face is still red and teary, nose twitching, but she offers her hands out when Oscar asks for them. Lando’s stopped moving completely, frozen with the dish towel wrapped between his fingers.

“Can I see?” he picks up from the distance. Oscar smooths his thumb into the middle of Emma’s hand until she flexes her fingers out for him, displaying palms full of grass bits.

“Fell,” she gets out between little hiccupping sobs. Oscar sets his drink aside so he can tug her closer without letting go of her hand.

“Well, that’s no good. Can I help?” he asks and it’s soft, it’s tender, it makes Lando himself want to cry for an entirely different reason.

She nods. Her head falls sideways, back onto Oscar’s shoulder, as he brushes the dirt and grass away. Then he purses his lip to blow the last of the dust off and smacks a kiss right in the center of her hand, playing it up loud enough to make Emma smile about it through the last of her tears.

“Oscar!” she says again, all giggles this time. Lando’s heard Oscar laugh about the way Lando pronounces his name, but it’s only when Emma says it, his own accent in miniature, that he sees what there is to grin about. She seems to be mostly cured of the panic, but in the next moment Oscar scoops her up anyway, settling her on his hip and checking that she’s chilled out as he returns to his conversation. Everything keeps moving around them.

“So,” Lando’s mum says. He jumps a little, having forgotten where he was.

“Um.” Lando says back. She’s smiling like a maniac at the side of his head. “I’m gonna-” he repeats, same thumb motion as a minute ago. He departs for real this time, though, depositing the towel back in her hands as he goes.

“Hey,” he breathes out when he’s reached Oscar’s corner of the patio. He’s not sure where to put his attention first, honestly, a little overwhelmed, so he curls a hand around Oscar’s hip with one hand and tucks Emma’s hair behind her ear with the other. “All sorted?”

“All sorted,” Oscar agrees. He tilts his head to meet Emma’s eyes, eyebrows raised like he’s waiting for her to sign off as well.

“All better,” she confirms. She doesn’t reach for Lando, though.

Oscar’s gaze is still focused on her when he says, “Just wanted a little cuddle before going back to play, right? Nothing serious.” He shifts Emma slightly in his arms and she turns her face into his shoulder for a second, like she’s embarrassed he’d tell on her that way.

“Good plan,” Lando says, tucking her hair back once again.

“Just like dad,” Oscar adds, and Lando definitely can’t find room inside of himself to be embarrassed – not with the way his chest is all cozy, like a dryer-warmed blanket.

“Oscar gives a good cuddle,” he agrees instead.

There’s a beat of silence: Lando looking at Oscar, Oscar looking at Emma, Emma looking back and forth between the two of them and the swing set, where her cousins are still playing.

“I’m ready,” she decides finally. She plants her palm on Oscar’s opposite shoulder and leans back in his arms so she can look him in the face instead.

“Great!” Oscar says.

“Emma,” Lando says, “say thanks to Osc, yeah? For fixing you up?”

“Thanks, Oscar!” she chirps, agreeable. Then she smacks a kiss against his cheek, a match to the one on her own palm, and says, “I love you!” as he sets her down, easy as anything.

Like she’s said it a thousand times. Like it’s not anything, like it’s just a fact of her life.

Lando watches her run off with a hand on his own cheek, half over his mouth. He knows he must look insane in one direction or the other, the way his eyes are watering and he’s smiling to hide how his heart is beating triple-time inside of his chest. But Oscar just slides an arm around his waist, drawing Lando in close to his side.

“Sorry if that was-”

“No,” Lando stops Oscar before he can even start. “That was, like…” precious, Lando thinks, more than I ever expected.

It's just... there were days after Emma’s mum was gone, when he was alone with his baby, that he’d stayed up at night and stared at her even after she’d finally gone down for him; days where he’d wondered whether either of them would ever get to say the words to anybody else. There were moments, nights, weeks on end where everything felt scary, and the thought of bringing a whole extra person into their lives was impossible to entertain, more work than it was worth no matter how badly Lando yearned for it. And there were times with Oscar, even, early on, where Lando had hesitated against his lips mid-snog on the couch and despite all the burgeoning something in his own heart, thought: selfish.

He’s never felt further from it all, though, watching Emma jump from the apex of her swing’s trip up towards the sky. She’s never been afraid for long. Comes by it honestly, Lando thinks as he buries a smile against Oscar’s shoulder.

“That was…?” Oscar prompts into Lando’s hair. He’d pressed a kiss there a moment ago and never moved.

“That was really important,” Lando settles on, still misty eyed.

Oscar’s palm does a quick pass up and down his spine before wrapping back around to squeeze Lando in half a hug, “Okay, though? I didn’t overstep or anything?”

“No,” Lando’s laughing then, still a bit wet, as he dislodges Oscar’s chin from the top of his head, “Can’t believe she loves you, holy shit.”

Oscar smiles down at him, “Just like her dad?”

“Just like her dad,” Lando confirms, then presses his own sweet smile right into Oscar's lips.

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By Touch

Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri, 1.6k words, oneshot

Oscar's fingers shift, reaching for Lando's wrist to move them both. "The hardest thing to learn, I think," Oscar starts, voice barely audible over Lando's heart, his shallow breaths. "Is letting yourself feel." Delicately, like one would touch the wings of a butterfly, Oscar ghosts Lando's fingers across his cheekbone. He's soft, as if the pink under his skin is a gently unfurling rose petal after spring rain.

a 1.5 hour drabble meant to distract me from the wips that feel overwhelming.

Anyone want a soft Uni AU loosely tied around Oscar and Lando meeting during a sculpture class?

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sometimes i like to imagine lando as a bit of childish fighter while oscar refuses to get into his game, and they end up bringing people to it, like:

lando: jon, can you please tell oscar im not going to his place? thank you

jon: so, oscar—

oscar, standing beside lando: why?

lando: jon, tell oscar that im not talking to him

jon: oscar, lando says he’s sorry but—

oscar: he’s not sorry? [turns to lando] you can’t ignore me forever

lando: jon, tell oscar that i can and i will

jon: i really think you two should talk about this privately because—

oscar: there’s food and a nice bed in my place

lando: jon, warn oscar that i also have a bed

oscar: useless and lonely without me in it but whatever, mate

jon: what—

lando, after thinking for a while: tell oscar that i might consider going to his place

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for the monaco gp next year instead of the regular commentators can we have like ten retired drivers on a yacht with copious amounts of alcohol instead? like imagine jenson feeding nico multiple rounds of tequila shots and convincing him to drop brocedes lore so fucking insane it makes lewis' spidey senses tingle live on air. meanwhile, seb is trying to stop kimi from falling off said yacht every five seconds and mahk webbah is trying to either rope everyone into karaoke or is gushing about his adoptive son oscar. david is calling every driver who fucks their car into a wall a cunt and mika is on facetime with his husband and sipping a mai-tai in the hot tub and a least one of them is puking off the side of the boat in the end

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DUTCH GP 2024 | Post-Qualifying Press Conference

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something about george russell being hyperaware and vocal about track safety for himself and other drivers even if it slows him down, something about fernando giving franco colapinto advice his first week in, the mclaren boys continuing to be happy with each other even when the team screws them over, hamilton reminding motorsports spectators and competitors alike that kimi antonelli is still just a kid after all and has a long way to go, max and charles congratulating each other after almost every race even when one of them gets a win and the other gets something like their worst drive of the season, alex and oscar defending logan sargeant as having so much untapped potential even if hes no longer racing, pierre and seb going out of their way every year to honor drivers who have passed, esteban ocon going out of his way to welcome new drivers to the grid, kmag fighting tooth and nail to get nico hulkenberg one point, nico rosberg shredding team principals with poor team treatment on live television

f1 is gonna be okay

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mkay but what about an AU in which Lando is a siren desperately trying to escape his colony, so he picks out some random sailor to seduce into freeing him. except the "sailor" in question is Oscar, who is completetly unphased by Lando's tactics and only goes along with him because he wants to escape his dickhead boss and job that's boring him to death (I'm thinking depending on the time period either an imperial ship or one of those scientologist cruises)

of course Lando has no idea his seduction isn't working (maybe the sailor guy is just weirdly emotionless who knows) until Oscar ACTUALLY starts catching feelings when Lando wasn't even trying anymore at which point both of them realise they might as well just run off together anyway. is anyone seeing the vision