#ponytail oscar

[sugarspikesart]

RG KISS DAY #2

Nose kisses :D

I love slightly changing Oscar's fit each time I draw him how did you guess?

[tastywormfood]

Comfort vampire and glowworm, aged up of course. Im gonna do Sussie and Betsy next<3

Also i used some references i saw on Pinterest for the hug poses, but the artist wasnt named, and i accidentally closed the page. So if u recognize the poses and know who drew them first, i would love to know.

[ryuto12]

Vomit Boy Has GROWN

[ariesbilly]

Idk how people are like “oh there’s no new content for my ship so I moved on” like … every time an actor gets a new haircut my immediate reaction is “now how would this go over in the ship dynamic…” and maybe that’s mental illness. But at least my creative juices are flowing

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

did smth rly important for all of society to benefit from

[seniouesbabes]

Lily Maymac 🌸💋🍒🌸 BTS of the Patron x Taboo group F1 event. Wait until you see the final looks ✨ 🖤 💇🏼‍♀️ @natalie_roser @ilymaymac @aisha_jade @madisonwoolley @laurenwwheatley

It was a pleasure to work with all of you 🥃@the_taboo_group @patron @nathantito #oscaroscarsalons

[lxclerc]

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 ─ 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

summary: where oscar has done everything in his power to make his feelings for you as obvious as possible, but you are simply quite clueless to the poor boy’s advances pairing: oscar piastri x driver!reader warning: fluff, oblivious reader

note: i wrote this in two hours and it's purely for fun. i did not bother thinking about how realistic this could be at all so it's a bit ridiculous i think

masterlist

sometimes, oscar just wants to run into a wall and knock himself out. 

maybe that would shake his brain enough for it to formulate a plan for you to finally realize all the oh so awfully obvious hints he’s been dropping. he’s been so obvious that the entire world knows it; all the other drivers, mechanics from practically every team, reporters, fans. literally everybody has picked up on his pitiful attempts at catching your attention but you. 

or maybe he needed to push you down a flight of stairs and knock you out for you to finally figure out that he likes you as more than friends. because at this point, it’s starting to get ridiculous. he’s been pursuing you since f3. in every ridiculous challenge with prema to every track walks and everything in between, he’s done everything possible to show you that he likes you, fancies you, absolutely besotted to the sound of your voice. 

that never seems to discourage him though, if anything, it only makes him like you more. robert once joked that you’d put a spell on him and oscar can’t quite deny it if he’s being honest. 

“y/n, wait up!” he called to you right before the driver’s parade, leaving lando behind him, who whispered a quick good luck to him. 

hearing your name made you turn to him, an instant smile on your face that made oscar’s heart violently lurch forward. most of the time, you preferred to keep your hair in a tight ponytail, wanting all the little strands out of your face when you’re on track but this time, strands had fallen off the paintail, framing your face in such a perfect way that knocks the breath out of oscar’s lungs. 

you’re perfect in his eyes all the time of course; even in the few times you’d pushed him off track, but there’s something so ethereal about you when your smile is for him. 

charles, your teammate, and lewis whom you were previously talking to subtle stepped away from you in order to give the two of you a moment. charles throws oscar a small thumbs up with that maniacal smile of his whenever he’s fortunate enough to be able to watch oscar absolutely get crushed by y/n’s cluelessness every time he tries and drops a hint to his feelings.

“hey, osc,” you greet, easily falling into step with him. 

“hey, how’s the down under treating you?” he asked, trying to act casually as he buried his hands in his pockets. 

he winced at his own words. how’s the down under treating you? really? 

at least you seem to find it amusing as you award him with a chuckle, hand instinctively wrapping around his arm the way girls do when they’re really comfortable with you and don’t want you to get lost in the crowd. you only ever do it to him (and he’s made sure to check) and it never fails to quite literally turn him to mush. 

“you know i’ve adored it!” you gush. you love australia, this is no secret to everyone , so much so that you’ve joked about it being your second home race, to which oscar have always enthusiastically nodded in agreement to. “charles, alexandra and i went cafe hopping all around melbourne yesterday.”

oscar hummed, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in his face that you hadn’t asked him to accompany you like the few times in the past but he knows that you and charles’ girlfriend have formed a very close friendship. “is that so? i’m glad you had fun.”

you smile up at him. “how about you? i reckon it’s nice being back home, isn’t it?”

“absolutely. the family’s been asking about you, by the way.” he just wanted you to keep talking. you could talk his ears off for hours and oscar would never complain. 

you face instantly light up at that. “i’ll make sure to drop by the mclaren garage later. i miss nicole.”

“she missed you too,” he says before clearing his throat. “so um, are you immediately flying out tomorrow?” 

you shook your head. “no, i’m planning to stay for a couple more days.”

“oh good.” he thanked god his hands were buried in his pockets so you can’t see how much they’re shaking. “you’re free tomorrow then?”

you nod and he nods back at you awkwardly. “yeah.”

“oh good.” stop. stop. he already said that. “do you want to check out that restaurant we went to during f2 maybe?” 

your face lights up again and your hand that’s holding on to his arm squeezes it ever so slightly in excitement. “oh absolutely. maybe i can bring charles and alex along and you can bring lando and logan.”

oscar wanted the ground to just swallow him up. he could probably shout i love you at you while staring directly into your eyes and you’d think he’s talking to someone behind you. one time in f2, he wrote all his feelings for you in a note and gave it to you only for you to hand it straight to robert without even glancing at it thinking he just wanted for you to pass it along. another time, he spent hours and hours trying to gather the courage to wrap his arm around your shoulder only for you to grinned up at him and wrap your arm around logan’s shoulder thinking he’d just wanted the three of you to huddle around. oscar is running out of ideas if he’s being honest. 

“that sounds…fun, but i was hoping, maybe, it could just be — you know, the two of us. like old times,” he manages to let out. 

“poor oscar,” lando says as he, charles, max and lewis watch your interaction. 

“oscar should just kiss her already,” max said.

charles cackled at that, shaking his head. “she’d probably think it’s a friendly kiss.” 

“maybe he just needs to shake her shoulder and scream im stupidly in love with you right on her face,” lewis joked as they kept watching the two of you. 

oscar watched as you let go of his arm, leaning onto the railing for the parade. you seem to take your precious time twisting the cup of your water bottle open and torturing oscar at the way your throat constricted as you drank water before you turned back to him with a smile. “yeah, sure, osc. i’d love that.”

oscar returned back to the group of boys with a dopey smile on his face, high off of you as lando slapped him on the shoulder in a small congratulations. 

charles couldn’t help but laugh at the look of the younger driver. “y/n’s broken him, i think.”

—

logan tried to contain his amusement as his australian best friend fell on his hotel room’s couch with his face buried in his hands, groaning in frustration and looking red in the face. oscar wore a loose white button up with a dark pair of jeans. he’d even worn his nice shoes for the occasion, wanting to be as presentable as possible as he picked you up from your hotel room to see you in the prettiest sundress in the most beautiful shade of blue that contrasted perfectly with your skin. 

the two of you ate and laughed and walked around with you holding on to his arm as oscar gathered the courage all night to tell you how he felt. 

“and then what happened?” logan asked as oscar groaned, frustratedly running his hands through his hair. 

“i told her i love her,” he muttered to himself and you smiled at him with that beautiful smile of yours.

“that’s great, osc!” logan tried to cheer him up, clapping him on the back as he remained hunched over the couch. “what did she say?” 

that seems to be a sore spot as oscar only groaned louder, petulantly kicking his shoes off. he can’t quite fathom how such a perfect night turned to him crashing in his best mate’s room so he can vent. 

“she said, and i quote ‘aw, osc. i love you too. you’re one of my best friends.’ and then i just about died on the spot.” 

logan winced at that, his hand now rubbing on oscar’s shoulder in comfort. “well, maybe next time the wording should be ‘i’m in love with you’?”

but oscar only groaned again. “this is a lost cause. best friend? is that all i am?” oscar starts his rant. “am i just one the many best friends in her life? will we drift apart after we both retire? at this point, i’d count myself lucky if i ever get invited to her wedding. maybe if i want to push my luck, i could be the fucking godfather of her kids.” 

and logan only winced again because he never even thought someone could be that clueless and oblivious.

—

“you look beautiful, y/n,” oscar tells you as he passes you by the media pen, ignoring the cameras and lando’s knowing grin. 

“thanks, osc. you look quite handsome yourself.” a dust of pink covers your cheeks as you smile at him, hand reaching to squeeze his lightly as you pass him by, being led by your pr team. 

for a moment, oscar freezes on the spot, unable to stop the way all his blood rushed to his cheeks and the smile that stretched across his lips. 

“mate, pull yourself together,” lando teases, pushing oscar forward to get him out of what lando dubs as the ‘y/n l/n induced lovesick daze’. 

a reporter who’d seen the entire interaction couldn’t help but laugh as she said; “y/n truly is quite a sight, isn’t she?”

oscar didn’t think his cheeks could get anymore red as he nodded. “she always has been the most beautiful girl.”

lando playfully rolled his eyes as he and oscar continued on. if he was being honest with himself, even he is getting tired with the constant pining between you and oscar. the boy could scream at the top of his lungs how in love he is with you and you’d still think it’s all platonic. this entire thing was getting a bit too pitiful for both of your friends to watch.

which is why charles and lando have taken it upon themselves to finally force you to see what’s right in front of you. oscar loved you too much to even think about putting you in any form of uncomfortable situation even if it comes at his own expense, thankfully for lando and charles, they don’t share the same sentiment and so the two got to planning. 

it was simple enough really. lando grabbed oscar by his collar, dragging him all over the paddock towards the ferrari motorhome.

“lando,” oscar whined behind him. “what the fuck are you doing?”

“trust me, mate, this is for your own good,” said his teammate, ignoring all the cameras that had gathered around them, following along. 

“can’t you at least let me walk on my own?” oscar complained again, hunched over as lando quite literally dragged him by his mclaren shirt’s collar. 

lando shook his head. “nope. i legitimately cannot handle this not going the way it’s meant to again.” 

in the distance, both mclaren boys heard you voice your complaints to charles as your teammate held you on the shoulder to keep you in place, a group of mechanics and engineers huddle around the two of you, watching in curiosity, 

finally, lando let go of oscar, allowing him to stand properly as the younger boy threw a glare at him while fixing his shirt. then he found himself face to face with you, confusion all over your face as it finally dawned on him what this is all about. 

“oscar?” you asked, looking between him and lando along with the group that had accumulated on their way to ferrari. “what are you all doing here?”

lando and charles folded their arms over their chest as charles motioned towards the two of you. “we figured the only way for you to finally get it is if there’s an audience.”

“get what?” you asked again and oscar, palms already sweating in front of you and looking as though he’d rather get struck by lightning awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“well get on to it, oscar,” lando says though his accent makes oscar’s name sound like oscah and oscar almost wanted to punch him there and then. 

again, oscar awkwardly cleared his throat as you finally face him. “y/n, i have to tell you something.”

you motioned for him to continue. “okay. what is it, osc?”

“i don’t know how else to tell you this without being upfront about it so—”

“what’s going on here?” and at the moment, fred vasseur stepped into the scene, confusion all over his face as he found practically half the paddock inside his motorhome, all of them crowding around you and oscar. 

everyone groaned, charles threw his hands up in frustration and lando wanted to bang his head against the table. “fred, you’re my boss, but please stop talking.”

fred was just about to say something else when charles physically dragged him to his side to shut him up. 

you turned back to oscar, encouraging him to keep talking even though you would have preferred more privacy. 

“i like you a lot,” he finally blurts out. “ever since f3. no, way before that. ever since karting.”

you smile at him kindly. “i like you too, oscar. i told you, you’re one of my best friends—”

every one groaned, cutting you off and oscar shook his head. 

“no, y/n. you don’t get it. i don’t just like you. i’m very much in love with you,” he emphasized, remembering logan’s words about wording it properly as he took her hand in his shaky ones. “like…i want to spend my life with you kind of in love with you.”

you eyes widened in surprise and a part of oscar had thought that maybe you were just in complete denial the entire time but he realized now that you truly, absolutely had no idea about his feelings. he doesn’t know which one is worse if he’s being honest with himself. 

“well, why didn’t you tell me, osc?” you ask gently. 

“love,” he starts softly, the nickname effortlessly rolling off his tongue. “i can’t count anymore how many times i’ve told you and how many times i’ve tried to tell you and how many times i tried to show you.”

“i never noticed.” for a moment, you seem completely dumbfounded and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips at the adorable way your mouth parted in surprised. you’re adorable, beautiful, gorgeous and every other adjective even if you unintentionally made his life hell the past few years. 

“that’s alright,” he reassures you.

you couldn’t help but smile shyly at him as you squeezed his hand. “well, if it makes a difference, i’m very much in love with you as well. like…i want to spend the rest of my life with you kind of in love.”

at that, he laughed again, pulling you towards him as your lips crashed together.

and everyone fucking cheered at that.

general tag list: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr @xjval @gridbunny @sunf1ower16 @lord-sharl-perceval @callsign-scully @saturnsrinqs @darleneslane @nmw-am @stopeatread

let me know if you guys want to be added to the general tag list or a specific driver's tag list or even if you want to be removed from the tag list because i get how annoying consistently getting tagged is.

[disneyprincemuke]

look after you * fem!driver

the heat of the qatar race alongside her period proved to be much more than she can handle; although she doesn’t tell anybody that

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver, alex albon x fem!driver, carlos sainz x fem!driver, charles leclerc x fem!driver

warnings: mentions of period, not feeling well

notes: hi i told u we're back to regularly scheduled fem!driver content... although, i do have a plan for something else later tonight! i also seem to be getting over my writer's block, sOOO WE SHOULD BE GOOD TO GO WITH THE REST OF MY FICS

also, i'm very curious where u guys think i'm from because i'm awake at the most ludicrous of hours answering asks and messages so like idk

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

she sits back in her seat, eyes darting all over the garage as mechanics and engineers scramble around to prepare her car for the race later today.

the sprint race yesterday was just as excruciating as she expected. the heat, the intensity of the race, and the fact that she's suddenly got her period was not a good mix as it proves.

she barely survived the duration of the sprint yesterday. she was visibly pale climbing out of her car, chest heaving and makeup melting off as she took her helmet off. it didn't take long for sebastian to catch on to her state when she entered the garage after weigh-in.

"kid," sebastian stops right in front of her, head tilted to the side in concern. he's got a cold can of pepsi in his hands when she looks up. "are you feeling okay? you don't have to race today if you're not well."

"no, i'm fine," she nods, taking the pepsi into her hands. she smiles up at him weakly as she sips on the straw. "i'm okay."

"well, you didn't look very okay yesterday," sebastian frowns. "don't be pressured to race tonight if you don't feel like it. your safety is more important than the race and it's unbelievably hot here tonight."

she shakes her head, slowly getting up as she remembers the drivers' parade that she has to attend. "i can definitely race today. i promise i'm fine," she reassures him with a pat to his shoulder. "i just need more pepsi to feel refreshed."

"you've got to drink water at some point for hydration," sebastian mutters. "i've got some in the freezer for before the race. drink it, okay?"

she grins at him with a thumbs up, slowly exiting the garage. "i will drink the ice cold water."

when she turns around to walk towards where other drivers have gathered, she backs into somebody's body, making her whirl around with an apology on her lips.

"i'm so sorry!"

"oh, it's alright!" a familiar giggle fills her ears and a hand comes up to her shoulder to offer some support. when she turns around, alex is smiling down at her as he steps aside to walk with her. "oh, your hair is up in a ponytail today. is something wrong?"

"what?" she's taken aback by the question - why is her ponytail such a big deal? "what about the ponytail?"

"i've just never seen you bring your hair up before on a race weekend," alex frowns, tugging at a strand of hair gently. “you look cute. and- oh, no makeup today?”

she shakes her head with a frown. “the heat practically melted my makeup off yesterday. that shit’s expensive and uncomfortable,” she mutters, bottom lip out in a pout as they walk.

when they approach the small group gathered by the pit lane, she’s greeted by oscar’s surprised gasp and carlos’s confused head tilt.

she lifts her arms, palms into the sky as she throws them a scowl. “what?”

carlos tears his eyes away immediately, but oscar maintains his gaze on her. “you’re not wearing any makeup.”

“yeah, so?”

oscar furrows his eyebrows and turns his body away from her. “nothing, just odd. you typically like doing your makeup.”

“it’s too hot to do my makeup,” she sighs, not liking that she has to repeat herself. “it practically melted off during yesterday’s sprint.”

“that’s true. comfort over anything else,” carlos nods with an approving smile. “please remember to drink some water later.”

“you and seb are so alike,” she grins, patting the spaniard’s shoulder. “that’s exactly what he told me earlier.”

“yeah, because everyone knows you don’t drink water when you’ve got,” oscar snatches the drink in her hand, “a pepsi in your hand. so unhealthy.”

“well, it makes me feel so sparkly in my mouth,” she fights back, snatching it back. “mind your own drink!”

“what’s u– you look different today,” logan says, slowly approaching the circle. with a hand on the small of her back, he tilts his head slightly as he scans her face. “is it the hair?”

“no, mate,” oscar smirks, “she didn’t do her makeup.”

“oh! how come?” logan frowns, pinching her cheek. “i was wondering why you hadn’t sent a selfie to the groupchat yet begging for compliments.”

“yeah, true,” oscar chuckles. “that does seem to be a trend, doesn’t it?”

“you guys get selfies for free?” carlos frowns. “she always asks me to pay like a thousand every weekend i ask her what she’s wearing to the paddocks.”

“only a thousand? she asks me for millions,” alex finally speaks again with the shake of his head. “what a business woman you are.”

carlos raises an eyebrow. “all jokes aside though… you are looking a bit pale. are you feeling okay?”

she smiles, a thumbs up raised next to her face. “of course!”

“mate, you don’t look very well,” she mutters, sipping on her pepsi as she approaches logan. “the flu still got you bad?”

“pretty bad,” logan sighs, slumping his shoulders. “but i’ll be alright.”

she hums, pressing her lips together as she looks at him from the side of her eye. “i’m not sure if i believe you, actually.”

“if anyone’s more of a liar between us, it’s you,” he puts his hands on his hips, “you look worse than i do and you just keep insisting you’re fine

“is it because i’ve not got makeup on?” she scowls at him, winding her hand back to smack him on the shoulder.

“what?” he cries incredulously, throwing his head back in shock. “where’d you get that? i didn’t even say anything about the makeup!”

“it’s just such a coincidence that everyone’s saying i look sick without makeup on.”

“it’s really not that. you just don’t look like you’re coping well with the heat.”

“oh, cause god forbid a woman sweats.”

“i literally didn’t even say that.”

“you may as well have.”

“you’re crazy.”

“you guys are driving me crazy with all these questions.”

“cut it out,” oscar scolds, coming up from behind them. he steps between their bodies and separates them. “grid kids are coming. please behave.”

“he said i look sick because i didn’t have makeup on,” she mutters, pointing at logan.

“i said she doesn’t look like she’s coping well with the heat! i never said anything about the lack of makeup!” logan answers hurriedly, leaning forward to scowl at her from oscar’s side. “will you tell her to cut it out?”

“tell him to stop telling me i look sick!”

“okay,” oscar says, hands up as she stops speaking. he turns to logan. “stop aggravating her — you already know what’s pissing her off, so stop bringing it up and asking her.”

then, he turns to the girl with narrowed down eyes. “and you do look a bit sick, and trust me, it’s nothing to do with the fact that you didn’t do your makeup. you just look like you are going to pass out,” oscar sighs. “just drink some water, and i’m sure you will look slightly more alive.”

he straightens his back as more drivers pile towards them for the opening ceremony for the race. “now, cut it out and just act normal. please.”

“are you sure you’re fit to race tonight?” sebastian asks again, eyebrows raised as she zips up her race suit. “no harm in pulling out if you’re not okay.”

“seb,” she says in a laugh, securing the velcro around her neck. “i’m okay. it’s just another day in the office.”

“your mum would personally shave my head if she finds out i let you race when you’re not well,” sebastian sighs. he places a hand on her shoulder. “seriously. please sit out if you need to.”

“i’m,” she turns to him and puts a hand on his elbow, “seriously okay. please don’t worry so much. this is what i do — i race.”

“fine,” sebastian smiles. “but promise me you’ll keep me updated how you’re doing during the race.”

“i always do,” she smiles, leaning into his body for a hug. like they always do before she gets in the car for the formation lap. “promise me you won’t pull me out without my approval.”

“i’d never dare cross you."

well. she didn’t feel good the entire race. it was too hot the entire race, her seat was burning, and sweat flooded her face almost three-quarters of the duration.

the sensation of her hair sticking to her neck and her sweaty head is driving her to the brink of overstimulation. perhaps it’s with the added bouts of cramps that would come every few minutes.

but she doubts it’s the period making her feel sensitive. it’s not her first time racing with the conditions of her period.

she finished in p5, which is arguably very nice, but she just feels very suffocated in her race suit and the helmet that hugs her.

“is logan alright?” she manages to ask, driving her car into parc ferme. “you mentioned he retired during the race?”

“he’s alright. dehydration, i think,” sebastian answers her through the radio. “medical centre with james.”

“what about oscar? he’s okay?”

“he’s alright, from what i can see from the pit wall. he’s got p3.”

“crazy stats for a rookie,” she smiles as the car stops. “can i just sit here for a while, please?”

“do you need help getting out of the car?”

“i don’t,” she trails off, her head starting to spin now that she’s no longer in motion. instantly, her chest starts to feel heavier and her breaths become shallow. “i just… just need a minute.”

every breath she takes is proven to be worse than before. the hot air hits her in the face, the helmet and the balaclava restricting the type of air she can get.

she just wants to lay back in an ice bath, if she could. if she could just manage to get out of the car, that is.

a tap on the top of her helmet urges her to look up, doe eyes meeting a pair of dreamy green eyes. one that she doesn’t see often, but has always looked up to since she was young.

“are you okay?”

“charles,” she says breathily, her vision getting blurrier by the second. “i’m okay. i just needed a minute. it’s very hot.”

“it is,” he smiles. “do you need help getting out?”

“i’m alright,” she says softly. “it’s just a little hard to breathe.”

“it would probably help if you take off the helmet,” he suggests. “i’ll hold it for you — take it off now so you can get fresh air.”

she nods, reaching beneath her chin to unclip the helmet. slowly, she pulls it off her head, then charles takes it into his hands.

instantly, she does feel slightly better. she pulls the balaclava away from her nose, allowing her to deepen the breaths she’s taking as she attempts to regain her composure.

“doesn’t that feel much better?” charles grins. “let me help you out of the car and let’s head to weigh-in together. sound okay?”

she smiles with a nod. “okay.”

the way charles leclerc has her starstruck even after racing alongside him the entire year is something she will never understand. she climbs out of the car, charles’ arms lifted up protectively around her as she wobbles out.

then she realises that he’s holding both of their stuff. she tries reaching over to take her helmet into her hands, but he simply twists his body away from her as he shakes his hesd.

“take off the gloves. you’ll feel so good,” charles smiles at her, still walking alongside her. “and the balaclava. don’t worry about your helmet.”

“thank you,” she smiles, her cheeks flushed as she does as she’s instructed. “how was your race?”

“it was okay,” charles says simply. “you drank water during the race, yes?”

“a little. it wasn’t very refreshing when i did,” she sighs. she holds her balavlaca and gloves in one hand, smiling when charles finally hands her her helmet. “though, i think- whoa!”

her sentence is cut off immediately, her helmet falling to the ground with a loud thud as she lands on her knees against the pavement. her hands dig into the gravel as she drops her head low, slightly embarrassed that she’d tripped on absolutely nothing to the naked eye.

“hey, are you alright?” charles asks hurriedly, bending down next to her. he puts his helmet down on the ground gently, a hand wrapping around her elbow and the other around her shoulders. “what happened?”

“i don’t know,” she sighs. she straightens her back slightly, sitting on her knees. “i got dizzy for a second.”

“we better get you to someone who knows how to take care of you,” charles sighs, looking up at the crowd that’s gathered around them.

one of them, being carlos, who sat out for the race today. “i’ll bring her to the medical centre,” carlos mutters, wrapping his arms around the younger girl. “get her things to seb. i’ve got her.”

“stupid,” was the first thing logan said to her when she stepped into the room in the medical centre.

she scowls at him, a cold pack of ice gel sitting on her forehead as carlos helps her get settled into her seat. “shut up.”

“no, you shut up.”

“both of you shut up,” carlos sighs. he bends down and reappears with two bottles of water. “both of you are like, extremely dehydrated. please drink some water.”

“you didn’t drink the water seb asked you to drink before the race?” logan scoffs. “should have known better. you’re on your period, aren’t you?”

“you’re one to talk — you literally refused to drink the water they gave you in the car,” she scoffs. “and how do you know that?”

“you only physically reject water when you’re on your period, idiot,” logan sighs, sinking in his seat and closing his eyes. “also, i live with you. of course i know when the devil comes to visit you.”

“drink,” carlos says again, handing her the opened bottle of water. “i know it’s not super cold water, but you’ve got to drink something.”

“only freezing water for me,” she frowns, pushing the bottle back into carlos’s body. “you heard logan: i’m on my period.”

“i’ve got your stupid water right here.” the door is opened, sebastian holding it open with a bottle in his hand. he flashes a grin at his driver before extending his arm to give her the bottle. “drink up, please.”

“do you know she is on her period today?” carlos snorts, pointing at the girl. “no wonder she was being weird all day.”

the look of realisation that dawns on sebastian’s face can only be described as priceless. typically, him and noah, her physical trainer, are quite up to date with her statistics.

for something this serious to be overlooked with the chaotic weekend was a big issue.

“oh,” sebastian frowns. “why didn’t you tell me? we could have looked after you better.”

she smiles, closing her eyes. she waves off his concern. “i was okay. finished in the points without makeup melting on my face.”

“okay, what do you m- you literally almost fainted after the race!” sebastian groans, scratching his head in confusion. “nothing about that screams okay!”

“her definition is okay is that she’s not dead,” logan says monotonously.

“which is a good definition, if you ask me.”

“but it’s stupid,” sebastian says.

“but it makes sense,” she sings. “i’m gonna take a nap. wake me up when they come over to give me an iv like the nurse said earlier.”

“you are so very silly for not hydrating enough,” carlos sighs, readjusting the gel pack on her forehead. he puts another one where her shoulder meets her neck, chuckling when she shakes in a shiver. “glad you’re okay.”

“me too.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie@gentlyweeps-world@woozarts

[marlenesluv]

lando + babysitting his drunk girlfriend

note: i love this sm. as someone that is usually the one babysitting my friends, this would melt my heart if someone did that for me fr, and lando would 100% be the one. also feel free to send headcannon ideas! :)

type: headcannon

۵ about every few weeks or so, you went out with the other wags to go clubbing without your boyfriends. yes, you loved your boyfriends, but they loomed and interfered quite a bit.

۵ so going out as a group was easier, not to mention that you all wanted to gossip.

۵ you told lando you were going with charlotte, isa, lily, carmen, kika, kelly, and laila. which was a bigger group than normal. usually it was just you, charlotte, isa, and kika, but everyone else was free!

۵ like always, you sent lando the location of the club, and turning on live location as well, just in case.

۵ while you were out with your girls, getting absolutely shitfaced, lando was at home watching friends reruns to try to ease his mind.

۵ lando knew you needed to go out with your friends without him, and he was fine with that, he just wanted you to be safe, and when you’re drunk?… you never know.

۵ after about five shots and four martinis, you knew you were drunk, too drunk to drive, and so was everyone else.

۵ at around 3am, kika called pierre and he came and picked her up, along with charlotte since he had been hanging out with charles.

۵ at 3:30am, lily threw up once in the bathroom as you called alex, “hey! alexxxx!!!!” you spoke, holding lilys hair back for her.

۵ alex knew from your voice that you were calling because lily was too drunk to uber, he didn’t think that was safe. so he came and got her.

۵ kelly and laila left before at 1:30am, claiming they had work in the morning. so all that remained was you, isa, and carmen.

۵ lando had been pacing around the living room as oscar loaded up another game of call of duty, trying to get landos mind to ease up.

۵ finally, lando just left oscar at his house, grabbing his keys, a hoodie for you, some comfy uggs, and driving to the club to get you.

۵ after about twenty minutes of him resisting your attempts to get him to stay and drink, you were sat in the passenger seat of his mclaren as he drove home, his hoodie on you and your uggs now on, a nice change from the four inch heels you had on.

۵ oscar had left earlier, knowing that lando would just want to be alone with you and take care of you.

۵ when you arrived to the house, lando opened your door for you, helping you to the front door and taking you shoes off for you and helping you sit down on the couch.

۵ at first, you’re very drunk, slurring words and giggling, but once you calm down, you’re just tired, and you want your boyfriend.

۵ constant sweet guidance:

۵ “sit down, sweetheart. i’ll get you a water.”

۵ “take these advil for me, hm? can you do that? there you go, thank you, love.” and gives you a little forehead kiss as he goes and makes you toast.

۵ and when you need to throw up, lando is pattering his feet right behind you on the way to the bathroom.

۵ he holds your hair back in a make-shift ponytail, rubbing your back and whispering to you to try and soothe you.

۵ after that, he gets you more advil and puts it by the bed in case you need some when you wake up, as well as new ice water in your water bottle.

۵ he makes sure that you eat, even if it’s just dry cereal or some cheese cubes. the last thing he wants is you with an empty stomach and having the potential of being sick again :(

۵ when he crawls into bed, he turns your favorite show on as you cuddle into his side, playing with his hoodie strings as his hands comb through your hair.

۵ “how are you feeling, pretty girl?” lando would ask, looking down at you as you shrug, “m’ok. thank you for taking care of me lan.”

۵ lando would smile, “i love taking care of you, now let’s go to sleep. wake me up if you need anything, okay?” you nod

۵ ‘i love you’s are exchanged as you both fall asleep.

۵ all and all, lando is the most sweet, endearing, and protective bf, especially when you’re drunk. he just wants you to be safe, and make sure you are comfortable.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[earlgreyflowers]

59+Oscar. I was thinking they just had (vanilla) sex and as they’re lying in bed she says this and he’s immediately like, aight bet.

(Also this was the anon who sent in the 7 minutes in heaven one, thought I’d un anon myself, lol)

I am dropping everything to write this request immediately, you are an oscar piastri smut genius. I altered the prompt ever so slightly to match the reader's vibe but enjoy <3

------------------------------------------------

Your relationship with Oscar was relatively new, the two of you still getting to know each other's bodies. Oscar had always been quite a shy person, never really expressing much beyond a smile and a nod in interviews. With you he was different, soft and loving, very affectionate; something that translated into the bedroom. Hands held, missionary, forehead kisses - always very gentle.

Don't get it wrong, Oscar was a gentleman, always making sure you finished first, but there was only so much you could take before wanting to switch it up. Your head is currently lead on Oscar's hard chest, his arms wrapped around you as he breathes deeply. "You okay baby? You've been quiet since we finished." He questions, stroking his thumb up and down your arm.

"'m just thinking." You mumble, tilting your head to look at him.

"What about?" He asks, slight concern etched onto his features. You sigh, sitting up, "Do you ever want to try something different?" You ask. His eyebrows furrow, lips jutting out in a pout, "Different?" He questions.

"Like, don't take it the wrong way, that sex was good, it was so good. But next time, could you maybe do it harder?" You murmur shyly, avoiding eye contact with the Australian.

"Harder?" He asks, curiosity taking over. He pulls you into him, now straddling his waist, his hands resting on your hips. "Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you harder?" He questions, voice dropping with lust, his lips skating over your pulse point. "Want me to hold you down and fuck you like a whore?" He whispers in your ear, capturing your earlobe between his teeth, making you whine.

Your legs squeeze around his hips, yours beginning to grind lightly as he lays kisses over your neck. His pillowy lips suck against your pulse point, tongue laving over the red mark he left behind. His bite is slightly harder than usual, causing your nails to dig in to the flesh of his shoulders. He moans against you at the sting, turning you around and bending you over.

“Still dripping from the last time we fucked and my girl is just aching for my cock isn’t she?” He teases, watching the way you clench around nothing. He slips two fingers inside you, curling them down to press against your g-spot. Your knees almost give out with the pleasure but he’s quick to remind you that this was what you wanted.

Oscar positions himself behind you before sliding his cock inside you, groaning at your tightness. You moan out at the feeling of being stuffed full, your head drooping. Oscar’s hand loops your hair into a ponytail around his fist, pulling your hair back before he slams himself in and out of you.

“My girl’s taking me so well ay, is this what you wanted? Wanted to be fucked so hard your pretty little ass turns red?” He asks, his free hand coming down to hit you. You scream out his name, your walls providing a vice-like grip.

“There we go, that’s it, such a good girl for me. If I’d known this was how you liked to be fucked I would’ve had you cock drunk like this much sooner. Would’ve had those beautiful eyes crying for my dick.” He groans, pulling your hair tighter as he fucks you harder, faster.

“Oh god Oscar, please don’t stop, ‘m gonna cum.” You whimper, your legs slowly sliding down the mattress until you’re practically led on your stomach.

“Wanna feel you cum, wanna feel how good I make my perfect girl feel. Come on baby.” Oscar begins guiding you to your orgasm, gentle kisses to your neck contrasting the brutal pace of his hips. He feels your walls tightening further, your back arching into him. The moan of his name you let out is enough to send him over the edge, his cum filling you up.

He slides his cock out of your pussy, spreading your legs to watch the way his cum leaks out. Two fingers find the apex of your thighs, swiping through the combination of your juices before running over your lips. You open your mouth, eagerly taking in his thick fingers and he smiles, eyes beaming.

A gentle kiss to the forehead and a whispered promise of a bath is all it takes for you to fall asleep happy, dreaming of the escapades you and Oscar can now enjoy.

[sugarspikesart]

"The Little Prince and his Rose"

I was going to keep this one until RG Kiss day arrived but i couldn't wait and besides, that's in July and we're in June so I have time to make more of these

I thought abt the Little Prince and then I decided to make this. I know Ruby wouldn't wear such a long dress (although she's wearing combat boots underneath) but oh well, this isn't canon so... I wanted to make Ruby Rose as a literal Rose Princess

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part eight.

When you were ten, a boy at recess pulled on your ponytail. He yanked you around, laughed when you’d shouted for him to stop, and then only let you go when you’d begun to sob. Dalton had done your hair that morning and the little clip-in bow he’d added was askew, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t fix it. It was this, more than the actual pain of having your hair pulled, that made you inconsolable.

Logan found you crying beneath the jungle gym, surrounded by a gaggle of other girls all trying to help. He crouched down next to you, all skinny-armed and knobby-kneed, wiped your tears with the sleeve of his shirt, and asked you who’d done it.

Logan punched the boy in the face after you’d told him. He was sent to the principal’s office for his trouble, but that boy never messed with you again and it was the first time you realized that your brother would do anything for you.

He was grounded, too, and had to sit through a huge long spiel from your parents about using words instead of fists, but Dalton had given Logan a pat on the back and assured him that he’d done the right thing.

He hadn’t punched anyone for you since then, but in Switzerland Logan had been your lifeline. Whereas he was quickly befriending the other boys he was racing with, you struggled. There weren’t many girls who understood why you were always busy on the weekends, or why you couldn’t come over for sleepovers, or why you always had to turn down birthday party invitations— and subsequently, they didn’t want you around if all you did was bail anyway.

Dalton was at that point in his life when he thought he was too old to hang around his little sister, so Logan had been your best friend. He’d let you paint his nails in the hotel rooms before races, and then he’d help paint yours so you could match. He only let you practice makeup on him once, because the mascara wand poked his eye and he’d been too scared to try it after, but it was fun while it lasted. He took all your pictures for you, went with you when you wanted to try a new cafe or see a new movie, and even tried to follow along when you gossiped about boys.

You think back to that time and wish he were here with you now. Maybe he would punch Oscar, or maybe he’d just sit with you and let you paint his nails like you used to. What you really just want is your brother.

You want him to use his sleeve to wipe your tears again, and you want him to somehow make it all better like he always seems to know how to do.

You want to go home.

You feel so stupid. How could you believe he was ever interested in you? Of course he was just trying to forget it all happened, and anything else you interpreted as flirting or potential interest was probably just Oscar trying to be polite because that’s the type of person he is. He’d cut off his own hand if it meant not causing a scene. He was probably just trying to find a way to tell you that he doesn’t ever want to see you again and he can’t think of you as a friend anymore because he can somehow tell that the kiss meant more to you than it ever did to him, and he thinks it’s weird that you’re so attached to him, and he can’t stand being around you because just the idea of having to pretend to like you is appalling—

A sob bursts free and you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the rest that follow.

Years of a friendship thrown away because of a stupid mistake you both made on a single night. You should’ve never listened to Sophia and Lando. You should’ve just pretended it never happened like Oscar was so keen on doing, and when he started distancing himself you should’ve taken it in stride and let it happen even though the idea of it felt like tearing your heart out. Maybe if you’d just let him go he would’ve at least come back eventually, after the awkwardness and discomfort had passed. Now he probably won’t ever want to look at you again, much less joke around and hang out the way you used to.

And God, you’ve probably ruined it for Logan now too! How could Oscar possibly look at Logan the same way either if it means having to awkwardly dance around your very existence? You’ve ruined your brother’s best friendship for him and now when you face him and explain how it’s all your fault, he’ll blame you and never want to speak with you again and then you’ll be well and truly alone.

You’re at the edge of the lawn and crumple to your knees, sinking to the ground and ignoring the fact that the grass is cold and slightly damp. It’s seeping into the fabric of your dress, but you don’t care. Something as superficial as your ruined makeup and stained clothes seems obsolete in comparison to everything else you’re feeling.

Through the blurriness of your tears, you can still see the warm glow of the lights shining outward through the windows, just beyond your reach. But the cold darkness of the Monagasque night swathes you, and your thoughts mirror the dreariness.

Oscar hates you, which mean Oscar hates Logan, which means Logan hates you, and by proxy Alex and Lily hate you, and because everyone else on the grid hates you, that means Lando hates you too. If they hate you, then their fans hate you, which will ruin your career and nobody will ever want to work with you again. You’ll lose everything you worked for and it’s all your fault—

You clamp your eyes shut and bite down on your lip to keep another devastatingly heartwrenching sob at bay.

This life was never meant to be yours— the racing life. You should’ve remained focused on your career instead of worried about some boy. You should’ve been happy with what you had, because now you’ve lost it all and you can’t fathom how you can possible get any of it back.

The door opens and the current bane of your very existence steps out, silhouetted by the lights behind him. His phone is held up to his ear, but between the shadows cast across his face and the tears in your eyes you can’t make out much else, just that one minute he’s stood on the stoep and the next he’s spotted you and is making a mad dash across the lawn.

“Oh my God, Y/N,” he says, falling to his knees beside you and immediately reaching out to place a steadying hand on your shoulder. His hand is warm against the chill of your skin, and you know you need to pull away, you know you need to distance yourself from him so he doesn’t hate you even more, but you can’t bring yourself to do so.

“You’re fucking freezing,” he mutters, low and concerned, before he’s slipping off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders, attempting to rub some warmth back into your arms through the fabric.

It makes you sob even harder.

His hands freeze, hovering over you. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You scrunch up your face and shake your head. “No, Oscar, nothing is okay,” you somehow manage to get out between hiccups and stuttering breaths.

He’s going to hate you, he’s going to hate you, he’s going to hate you—

He pulls you against his chest and then wraps an arm around you, hugging you close. His hand cups the back of your head and presses you into the crook of his neck. You can feel his pulse point where he’s got you held, and his heart is racing. “What is it? What’s happened?”

You should push him away. He’s only doing this to comfort you because you’re a person in need and Oscar is the type of guy who would help anyone even if he can’t stand them. He’s just nice like that. But the feeling of him against you, so comforting and warm, is intoxicating and you’re not as nice as him. You want to be selfish, and you want this all to yourself from now until forever, but you know that the second this moment ends you’ll never have it again so you’re choosing to savor it.

“Y/N,” he says again, running his fingers through your hair. “You have to tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I’ve messed it all up,” you say, voice muffled against his neck. “It’s all ruined and it’s all my fault.” You manage to swallow back the sobs, but another wave of tears spills over and dampens his skin.

He makes a noise, and pulls you even closer still. “What could you have ruined?”

“Everything!” You exclaim while reaching up and grabbing at his shirt. You let your fingers twist into the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this moment, and all Oscar does in response is continue to hold you. He scratches at your scalp and runs his fingers through your hair, and shushes you gently when your breath stutters again.

“It’s New Year's Eve,” you start after another moment, “and my twenty-third birthday, and instead of being happy and celebrating it with my brother like I should be doing—” the thought of Logan makes you sob once again, “—I’m in Monaco trying to pretend like I’m not in love with someone who hasn’t spared me a glance the entire time I’ve been here!”

It sounds stupid when you say it like that. It is stupid, you think, but now on top of everything else you’re convinced Oscar probably thinks you’re even stupider now than he already did. At the very least you had plausible deniability before, but now you’ve confessed that you’re in love with him of all things. Love! You hadn’t even known that yourself before you’d blurted it all out in a word vomit of feelings.

He hates you, he hates you, he hates you—

Oscar tenses and his hand stills, but he doesn’t pull away. “Lando’s been sparing you plenty of glances,” he mutters, sounding dejected for reasons you can’t possibly begin to theorize on.

You take a deep breath and swallow what little is left of your pride. You’ve already ruined things beyond repair so nothing else you do can possibly make things worse. You shake your head against him and cling to his shirt even more. “It’s not Lando I’m in love with.”

“What..?”

“Lando and I aren’t together, Oscar,” you whisper against his skin.

“Well, I know that,” he clears his throat. “But I thought… he flirts with you all the time. And you flirt back.”

You groan, thankful that at least your face and the horribly pink flush that’s risen to your cheeks is hidden where you’re tucked away. “He had this whole elaborate plan where he’s been trying to make you jealous so you’ll ‘man up’ and do something about it,” you explain, feeling more and more embarrassed as each word comes out.

Oscar hums. “So, he’s not pursuing you?”

“No!” You’re honestly afraid of what you must look like right now, certain that your makeup has been smeared with your tears across your face, but you pull away from Oscar just far enough to meet his eyes, managing to give him a look that asks if he’s being genuine right now. “I mean, Christ, Oscar, he made us share a bed. He was just trying to help me because I didn’t know how else to get your attention without risking our friendship entirely, and that’s the plan he came up with and I just went along with it because what else was I supposed to do?”

He looks surprised. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are pink from the chill of the night. It reminds you that his jacket is still draped across your shoulders, and you go to shrug it off and give it back to him, but his hands snap to yours and keep them pinned there.

When you meet his gaze again, he looks softer. Gentle. Not at all like someone who’s supposed to hate you. For a moment you think it’s the closest you’ve gotten to before Bahrain ever happened, but then you realize this is the same way he looked in the car outside your hotel, right before he kissed you.

“You could’ve talked to me,” he whispers, lips quirking at the corner as if all of this is just a big joke and he’s getting ready to laugh at the punchline.

“Oh, yeah,” you roll your eyes, “let me bring up the one kiss we shared that you seemed real intent on pretending never happened!”

“I never brought it up because I thought I was taking advantage of you and I was ashamed!”

You stare at him, and then despite looking like a mess and freezing your ass off, you burst into laughter and collapse against his chest. He rolls with it, letting you settle against him easily and then wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer.

“We’re really bad at this, aren’t we…” you murmur against him.

“Making fools of ourselves? No. But communicating? Absolutely.”

You sit there on the lawn for a while longer, letting the chill seep into your bones, until the front door opens again and Lando comes stepping out. He looks baffled when he spots the two of you hugging on the grass, but then a shit-eating grin stretches across his face and he strides over looking proud of himself.

“Well, having fun are we?” He asks when he comes to a stop before you both.

You can’t see Oscar’s face from where you’re resting against him, but you can feel him shift and his chest rumbles against you when he answers, “Oh, yeah. It’s a real party out here.”

“Funny you should say that, ‘cause there’s actually a very real and very fun party happening inside right now and people are starting to ask where the two of you are, so—” Lando shrugs, “—rather not have to tell them you two were shagging out on the grass of all places.”

You snort and Oscar sighs. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that we’re shagging from. Obviously we still have our clothes on, Lando,” he retorts.

Lando claps his hands, smiling, “Okay, then, whatever you kids these days are calling it, my front yard is not the place for it, so get on now. Move it! Up you get!” He shoos at you both like you’re a couple of unruly dogs he’s trying to usher elsewhere.

Oscar lets go of you long enough to climb to his feet, and then he’s offering his hand to help you up as well.

You take it, and thank him with a sheepish smile before glancing down the check the damage that’s been dealt to your dress. Thankfully, there’s doesn’t seem to be much of a stain, but there is a wet patch that you know will be noticeable if you don’t change. On top of that, you’re still certain your makeup has probably been ruined, and you’re already embarrassed enough by having Oscar and now Lando see you like this. You’d be absolutely mortified if anyone else in that house managed to catch you looking so messy.

“You good?” Lando asks you specifically when he catches you staring down at the dampness of your dress.

“Yeah,” you answer when you look up and meet his eyes. “Should probably go get changed, though. And fix up my makeup.” You rub at your eyes shyly, trying to do what you can here and now as if that’ll make it any better.

“We’ll make an excuse for you,” Oscar says, reaching a hand out to brush against your shoulder before him and Lando turn and begin making their way back to the house.

You follow shortly after him, lingering in the night for a moment longer. You feel lighter, and the darkness feels more like a comforting blanket of serenity now than an oppressing shroud of loneliness. When you realize his jacket is still draped over your shoulders, you wrap it tighter around your arms to take advantage of the remaining warmth that clings to it, and then you hurry across the lawn into the house.

Stepping into the entryway, you can hear Lando’s voice in the livingroom just beyond. You scurry up the stairs, moving as quickly as you can so you can return to the party.

When you get to your room, you take a moment to think about what in the hell just happened as you change. The week alone has been such a whirlwind of highs and lows. You’d been devastated when Oscar had first arrived, then you’d had one of the best weeks of your life, and then you’d had the closest thing you’ve ever had to a meltdown out on Lando’s front yard because you were convinced you’d just ruined everything you’d ever worked for and thrown it all away because of a dumb choice. A few laughs and cuddling on the grass doesn’t seem like enough to just completely brush away all the miscommunication that happened between you and Oscar, but it seems like a good place to start for tonight and that’s all you can ask for.

There will be other days and other nights where you can sit down and talk about where it all went wrong and how to keep it from going that way again, but for now it’s New Year’s Eve, it’s your 23rd birthday, and there’s a party just downstairs filled with people that know how to celebrate like no other.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 54,134 others

yourusername my 2024 is going great so far ☕️👀

view all 2,453 comments

user OH MY GOD?? IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH???

logansargeant at least you’re not hungover

↳ yourusername oh trust i am VERY hungover rn 😔 hence coffee in bed

↳ logansargeant omg twinsies 😀

↳ yourusername yes bc our shared hangovers is the only reason we’re twinsies

user wish i could’ve woken up like this this morning 😭😭

user manifesting this for 2024

landonorris keep it pg13 in there kiddos

↳ user ASKAHAOUFHALD WHAT???

↳ user WE NEED DELULU DETECTIVES IN HERE PRONTO

user oscar’s liked the post but he hasn’t commented, lowkey sus 🤔

↳ user y’all are actually crazy wtf?? can a man not just like a post anymore??

user she’s still in monaco right?? so it’s gotta be one of the mclaren boys

↳ user if she doesn’t reveal who it is by bahrain 24 then i’m gonna lose my mind

↳ user catch me hyperanalyzing every moment of y/n on the paddock to see who she’s with to try and solve the mystery

user seriously how cAN ONE PERSON LOOK SO STUNNING 😫😫😫

alex_albon happy new years y/n! me and lily loved getting to celebrate with you yesterday!

↳ yourusername happy new years to you as well! had the time of my life getting to see you both! we definitely need to do it again sometime 💙

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel @lewisvinga @81vas @maih23

━━ a/n: hehehe here we are folks! that conflict resolution is finally here! also, i think this is actually the longest part i've written so far? but i wanted to get everything sorted in a single chapter instead of having another cliffhanger or dragging things on for too long. it's also 3AM as i'm finishing this up and getting it posted, so my apologies if there are any editing mistakes that i missed! i am very sleep deprived! anyways, i hope you all enjoy!

[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 1

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

You stayed hidden in your racing suit. Your current team-mate didn't even know who you were, like the rest of the grid. It was fun being all secretive and undercover. You didn't drive with your real name, and when your radio was aired it was only text. You could actually live like a normal person with no pressures. You didn't have to attend post-race interviews, or feel the pressure of the Paps everywhere you went. There was a certain level excitement of getting your first race win and being able to reveal to the grid who you were.

When you'd first been introduced as 'Ghost' people were confused at why you weren't using your real name. But you, as Y/N Y/L/N were always seen in the paddock and garages and you knew some of the drivers and they would often invite you to the after parties.

I mean you were posed as the media manager for 'ghost' which in itself was hilarious. You could post your own memes, and comment on your own driving. It was amazing.

However your home race, United Kingdom Silverstone was coming up.

You were so excited, even though you knew Lewis, George and Lando would be just as hyped up as you for the win. But this was the most motivated you'd been. Your family were in the crowd, the only people who knew it was you behind the helmet.

"Oh Oscar Hi" you greeted the other young driver.

"Hello" he said his thick aussie accent coming through.

"How's the ghost today then?" he asks, you'd been close for a while. He was actually your first friend here, it was funny actually how you bumped into him.

"You'd just finished up in Australia and had gotten your first podium finish in your rookie season. Oscar had been there as a reserve driver for Alpine and as you were fumbling in your drivers room, trying to rip your driving suit and balaclava off. You were making a lot of noise, and you'd tripped over yourself. You slung on your Alpine Team gear, tying your hair up in a ponytail and hiding the sweat under a cap.

A knock on your door had you stilled, you shoved the suit into a crate and moved across.

"Hello?" you'd asked swinging the door open, he jumped back a little seeing how quickly the door opened.

"Erm, hi isn't this Ghost's room?" he'd asked you. He was the reserve driver for Alpine and that's who ghost drove for in their first year.

"Your are not supposed to be here" you'd frowned looking at him.

"I know, but the engineers said i might find you here, to go answer some questions on Ghost's behalf, considering his er win today" he smiles awkwardly at you scratching the back of his neck. He watched as you eye him over.

"Who sent you?" you ask, it had to be the team principle right?

"Marcin, he was asking for you and Ghost" he explains.

"Well, its just going to be me, Ghost is preoccupied right now" you say slipping out and shutting the door.

"Hmmmm, its strange you are in his driver's room. Were you in there the whole race?" he asks cocking his head to the side.

"Erm, yes i don't like all the fuss in the garage so i tend to stay in there and watch"

"Ah okay" he's said before walking off ahead of you to show you exactly where you should be going.

That was how you'd become friends, you'd then heard around the Paddock that come 2023 he'd have his rookie season in McLaren while you moved to RedBull, or well Ghost did.

"You nervous about today?" he asks grinning, the question through you off and your head snapped up to meet his gaze.

"What do you mean, nervous? I'm not nervous. Its not like I'm the one driving... because i'm not" you say, with zero coolness and all the panic in your voice.

"You're rambling, of course you are nervous for Ghost. Today could be the day they take their first win. Would be cool!" he grins pulling you into a hug, he flicks your Red Bull cap a little before you fully tuck yourself into his large embrace.

"Oh yeah, i guess i am a little nervous for ghost but they are a good driver. I'm sure they'll get us some points"

"Yeah they're insane in the Red Bull this year. Rival for Max" he admits brushing a hand through his hair.

"

Taglist:

@tallbrownhairsarcastic @littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek

[non-stop-imagines]

Calm Down

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Black!Reader

Summary: Oscar has his own ways of calming his you down. (From this request 💖)

Word Count: ~1.5k words (I've been real lazy y'all so this is me eye balling it.)

Warning: Smut, p in v (unprotected, stay safe kids), fingering, teachnically thigh fucking, orgasm denial, Hard!Dom in a very Oscar way, mention of the FIA (we all need to be warned about that), some plot (enough for this to actually be a fic)

A/N: I'm still working my way through a few more pre-"closed request" fics, after this one I have 4 more. 🥳 I'm kinda glad I'm able to get this one out. It's to the lovely anon that requested it but also for another anon that would like more Oscar fics out there. I have my Oscar moments, and I guess you guys caught me in one. 🤭 Anyway, hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!💖💛💖💛

(P.S. Expect another headers update because these requests y'all have been sending in are😚🤌🏿)

Masterlist

_____________

"No further investigation." This was the umpteenth time those words have plummeted from your mouth, now in quiet disbelief while you paced around Oscar's driver room when before it was being repeated by you as you first attempted to march your way towards the stewards office, but when that was thwarted by members of the McLaren team who were used to your reaction towards botched penalty calls, you tried to make your way to the Ferrari garage to just "have a talk" with the Spanish driver who pushed your boyfriend off the track, but Oscar was able to find you and promptly divert you to his room. "How could they be so stupid?"

"It's the FIA, I think they share a singular brain cell among them, and that brain cell is on holiday most of the time." Oscar spoke calmly as he undid his neck strap of his race suit and began to unzip it to expose his black fireproofs.

"How are you so fucking calm right now!? Carlos forced you off the track causung you to damage your front wing in which having to replace it during your fucking pit stop no doubt costed you third place!" The braids in your ponytail thrashed around as you erratically expressed your disdain for the unjust treatment your boyfriend was given during the race, and Oscar watched, mostly in admiration, but also slight annoyance. This wasn't the first time he has had to calm you down from such frustration.

"Because, there's nothing else we can do except go into the next race. Yeah, it sucks, but it's done." He shrugs his race suit off his shoulders and lets it gather around his waist while you scroll through Instagram, seeing the incident over and over again. You were like a bull seeing red.

"Nah, like, I just want to go talk to Carlos. It's like he has some weird hit out on you cause this is not the first time he's done this and I'm fucking tired of it." You push off of the massage table and head towards the door of the driver's room, but your wrist gets captured as you walk by Oscar, who gently guides you back to him.

"Yn, you need to calm down." He pulls you to him and wraps an arm around your lower back, his other hand fixing the askew braids in your ponytail. He was still a little damp but you something in your brain allowed you not to care too much about the sensation because he always looked little sexy with the messy sweaty hair and rouged cheeks and nose. A little sweat was worth it

"And what if I don't?" You squint, your insubordinace unphasing to Oscar as he finishes fixing up your ponytail.

"You know what happens, baby." A sweet grin makes its way onto his face but the hand that was previously in your hair grips your face, forcing you to look at him. "I make you." He gives you a quick peck on your forcibly puckered lips and then flips you so you were bent over the massage table, ass exposed to him. "You wore a skirt. You wanted this to happen you horny little minx."

"You're the only 22 year old I know that would use the word minx." You antagonize as Oscar makes quick work of flipping your skirt up, removing your underwear and pushing his race suit down letting it rest at his ankles, leaving him standing behind you starting to push down his underwear. "Ooo, I've made him mad now."

"No, no. I'm just used to you mouthing off. Especially when you're really horny, so..." He leans over to look at your face, your head resting on your hands and turned to the side, then finishes pushing his underwear down, releasing his dick which he almost automatically rubs between your pussy lips. "You're already so fucking wet, all from being a brat."

"And you're already hard because you like when I'm a brat, sweetheart." You wiggle your ass and move your hips backward, making Oscars dick slip between your sticky thighs again.

"Still so fucking mouthy." He grasps your hips for a moment to stop your hips from moving, then moves his hand to your lower back while he brings his cock to your entrance, pressing in and bottoming out in one fell swoop, forcing a loud moan from your chest. "Where's all that talk now, sweetheart?" He bends forward so he's speaking into your ear, then retracts his hips and thrust forward again.

"Os, fuck..." You let out sobbing whines with each thrust of Oscars hips, reaching out so you could grip the other side of the massage table.

"All you had to do was calm down love. But we both know you wanted this, hmm. Wanted me to fuck you quiet." Your legs were already getting weak, so Oscar had to adjust his grip at your hips, wrapping his right arm around your waist, the angle perfect for getting your clit. He doesn't put to much pressure, just allows the sticky slickness of your arousal to make it easy for his fingers to glance over the bundle of nerves. Even the slight touch sends a jolt through your body, making you gasp. "Look at you being a good girl for me now. Nice and quiet so no one hears. Wouldn't want anyone to know that your little act out there was just so you could get fucked senseless." All you could muster up was a moan as Oscar sped up the pace of his hips, he could go for hours, but he knew he had to make it to media obligations or else his absence would be suspicious. Lucky for him, despite your weak knees, you started to meet his thrusts, trying to get yourself to that proverbial edge that you could just taste.

"Can I cum, please?" You reach back to the hand that kept grazing your clit, guiding it to rub circles on it, having to move his hand a bit to get the optimum amount of leg shaking sensation.

"Only if your promise to be my perfect little girl from now on." He pulled his dick out of you and thrusts between your legs, the sensation of it rubbing on your clit making you whimper and giving him the wonderful visual of your cunt contracting around nothing.

"I'll be a good girl, I promise!" You were back to wiggling your ass, nonverbally begging for him to go back to fucking you. He looks up to check the analog clock on the wall.

"Okay, I'm gonna give you exactly one minute, but I'm only gonna use my fingers." You have a short tantrum while Oscar steps out of his race suit and pulls his underwear, then runs his fingers through your folds stopping your stomping feet. "I could just not give you a chance, I do have places to be..." He doesn't move and continues to run his hand over your cunt, but you took his threat to heart.

"No! Nooo, please, Os. Help me cum, please." He love to see you beg for him, especially when 99.9% of the time you were boisterous and confident and didn't take anyone's shit, which he loved, but little moments like this when he was in charge was the cherry on top of the relationship between you two.

"That's my girl." He brought his right hand that running along your cunt, now soaked in your juices, to your entrance, his middle and ring finger teasing you before pressing in, filling the emptiness his dick left. His left hand snaked back around your front to rub your clit. He did keep an eye on the clock, as he thrusted his fingers in you and rub your clit exactly where you guided his hand earlier, the sound of your muffled moans filling the small room, now that your face was down on your hands. Your hips gyrated in the air as you chased pleasure from Oscar's skillful fingers. But it was getting dangerously close to that one minute mark, and you still haven't came, and Oscar was serious about that time restraint.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven..." He counted down, fingers moving at a slightly faster speed, trying to help you reach your climax by "zero". Zero came, but you didn't, and you were left on the edge as Oscar removed his fingers from you, sucking your slick from them, and finished getting dressed to head to the media pit, ignoring your cries from being denied a surprisingly intense orgasm. "Sorry, hun. I'll help you when we get back to the hotel, okay?" He helps you up from the massage bed, smoothing your skirt down for you, adjusting your shirt and fixing your ponytail again before finishing off with a kiss to your pouted lips.

"Fine." You watch him do final checks on his own appearance before leaving his room, suddenly realizing your lack of underwear when you watch him stuff your panties in his pocket, becoming hyper aware of the stickiness between your thighs and the coolness of the air on your pussy. "Hey, wait. I can't go commando in a skirt."

"Exactly. You wouldn't dare go and try to fight anyone from Ferrari wearing a skirt and no underwear." He tips your chin up slightly and presses another long kiss to your lips. "I'll be back. Be a good girl, just like you promised." He taps your nose with his index finger and then turns to leave the room.

"Fuck you, Piastri." You cross your arms and lean against the massage table, a grin sneaking into your scowl.

"You already did, sweetheart." He rushes out the door and shuts it quickly to avoid the water bottle you chuck at him, both of you giggling like school children.

[masqueradereveler21]

Hogwarts Legacy Character Sheet - Gwendolen Hedera (Edited)

General Information

Full Name: Gwendolen Hedera

Nicknames: Gwen, Wendy, The Hero of Hogwarts, The New Fifth Year

Gender: Female

Date of Birth: April 26th, 1875

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

Personality Type (MBTI): INTJ - The Architect

Species: Human

Blood Status: Unregistered

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Nationality: Welsh

House: Slytherin

Wand: Fir wood with a phoenix feather core, 11 3/4”, rigid flexibility

Patronus: Stoat

Boggart: The mutilated corpse of Professor Fig

Amortentia: Bread pudding, wax candles, old books, fresh linen

Physical Appearance

Hair Colour & Style: Black; occasionally wears down but is most often seen sporting it braided or in a ponytail.

Eye Colour: Grey

Skin Tone: Olive with neutral undertones

Height: 167cm (5’6”)

Weight: 55kg (121 lbs)

Clothing Style: Neat and presentable; favors skirts, ruffled blouses, vests, and heeled boots. Almost never wears her robes.

Accessories: Black painted finger nails. A necklace gifted to her from Natty.

Personality

Positive Traits: Adaptable, determined, loyal, resilient, compassionate, curious, diligent

Neutral Traits: Independent, reserved, ambitious, rational, observant, competitive

Negative Traits: Arrogant, cunning, stubborn, sarcastic, defiant

Strengths: Capable of thinking outside the box and extremely quick-witted

Weaknesses: Thinks she knows what’s best and struggles to let people in

Likes: Cats, Summoner’s Court, Quidditch, organization, leadership, exploring the highlands, reading

Dislikes: Spiders, Gobstone’s, dugbogs, failure, meat, laziness, clutter

Background and Family

Gwendolen Hedera was born on April 26th, 1875, in South Wales to parents of unknown wizarding heritage. At the age of five, Gwendolen was in a carriage accident which tragically took her parents lives and left her with amnesia. She was ultimately raised at Mission of Love, a Muggle monastery that housed young orphans and disabled elderly. During her time there, she was subjected to verbal, mental, and occasionally physical abuse, though she did find some solace in the older people there who treated her kindly. Once she grew old enough, she was shuffled from household to household trying to find a place to call home, though her “poor behavior” and lack of discipline always lead her back to the monastery. It wasn’t until she was fourteen that Gwendolen found herself whisked away by Professor Eleazar Fig, never to be seen again.

After Professor Fig’s death, she found herself under the guardianship of Matilda Weasley, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration professor. It took some convincing from Ominis for Gwen to accept the offer, and she kept herself at arms length in the beginning, fearing that Professor Weasley would abandon her when things became too difficult. During the summer between her fifth and sixth year, she met the rest of the Weasley clan and grew closer to Garreth Weasley, who she begrudgingly helped with his experiments. With time, she came to view Professor Weasley in a maternal light (the feeling was mutual on Matilda’s part).

Biological Father: Unknown (Deceased)

Biological Mother: Unknown (Deceased)

Guardian/Adoptive Parent: Matilda Weasley

Adoptive Uncles: Graham Weasley, Phillip Weasley

Adoptive Aunts: Dorothy Weasley (née Button), Lydia Weasley (née Hawthorne)

Adoptive Cousins: Theodore Weasley, Oscar Weasley, Garreth Weasley, Florence Weasley, Millicent Weasley, Francis Weasley, Edmund Weasley

Relationships

Love Interest: Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow…ehh its complicated…

Best Friends: Natsai Onai, Poppy Sweeting, Garreth Weasley, Imelda Reyes, Amit Thakkar

Acquaintances: Nerida Roberts, Grace Pinch-Smedley, Lucan Brattleby, Isaac Cooper, Adelaide Oakes

Rivals: Leander Prewett, Charlotte Morrison, Samantha Dale

Enemies: Ranrok, Victor Rookwood, Theophilus Harlow, Ashwinders, Cassius Caine (OC), Elspeth Iris (OC)

Pets: Vivarium beasts, eleven cats, a barn owl named Minerva

• Artwork done by the incredible @millyillus •

[arieslost]

Omg thank you so much for writing my Oscar x stressed reader I felt like I related so much and your writing is just too tear I loveeeee it ❤️

I was wondering if you could do maybe like on Oscar x like a sick reader or something like that I literally have the worst flue and stomach bug atm

Thank so much -❤️❤️

i’m so glad you liked it!! i hope you’re feeling better by time i post this :((

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

sick day | op81

you always prided yourself in going long stretches of time without getting sick, and if you did, it was only a mild cold that went away within a day or two. so, when you woke up one morning with a sore throat, you ignored it. when your nose got stuffy, you ignored it. when the uncharacteristic headache hit you, you popped some ibuprofen and called it a day.

but then you wake up the next morning and instantly know that this isn’t just a cold. the high temperature flashing back at you on the thermometer only confirms it, and unfortunately you can’t ignore this. not if you don’t want oscar to get sick too. so, when you crawl back into bed and he goes to kiss your forehead like he does every morning, you shy away from him.

“i might be sick,” you manage to croak out.

“might be?” oscar frowns. “honey, you sound like me when i first hit puberty.”

you try to glare at him, but what he said was kind of funny and your huff of laughter turns into a coughing fit that sounds nothing short of excruciating. you think you see oscar physically recoil out of the corner of your eye.

“why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” he asks once you down a few sips of water.

“because i never get sick!” you exclaim, raising a hand to your head when it pounds courtesy of your own voice. “now i’m a hazard for myself, and you. actually, you probably shouldn’t be this close to me. go away.”

you start pushing him out of the bed with your foot, and he stifles his own laughter as he gets up. “stay there, okay? i’ll take care of you.”

“no, no, i don’t want you to get sick. just leave me here and let me sweat it out or something.” you wave him off, trying to act casual, and then you cough again. “ow.”

“i’ll make tea. does your stomach hurt?” you shake your head no in response. “some toast and eggs too, then.” you open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off. “and you can’t stop me because the only way to do that is to physically kick me out, and you can’t touch me. otherwise i’ll get sick.”

“i hate you,” you grumble, even though you don’t think you’ve ever loved him more than you do in this moment.

“hang tight, baby. i’ll take care of you.” he blows you a kiss and hurries out of the room.

“don’t burn the toast!” you yell after him, immediately regretting it as your throat feels like it’s on fire the more you talk.

within the next ten minutes, you feel like you’ve sweat through your pajamas, and the sheets feel damp underneath your body. he comes to check on you and only needs to take one look at you to know something’s wrong.

“what is it?”

“i’m just… really hot. and everything feels icky.” you complain.

“okay, baby. can you sit up?” he asks, reaching for a hair tie on your nightstand. “where’s your comb?”

“top drawer.” you say as you push yourself up. “you better not come near me.”

“what are you gonna do about it? cough on me? come on,” he gestures for you to lean forward a little so he can brush your hair. “don’t worry about me. let me take care of you, yeah? no more arguing.”

“fine. but only because it hurts to talk.” you acquiesce, eyes falling shut at the tingles every brush of the comb through your hair sends to your scalp. “feels nice.”

“good,” you can hear the smile in your boyfriend’s voice as he gently gathers your hair up into a ponytail and carefully ties the elastic. “lemme get you some clothes, and then let’s go out to the couch, hmm?”

you want to tell him no, you don’t want to contaminate anything else, but you also don’t want to stay here in a puddle of your own sweat, so you let him help you change into a pair of his sweats and an old t-shirt, and because he’s being so sweet, you don’t pull away from him when he takes your hand and leads you out to the living room.

you situate yourself on the couch, clutching your water bottle in your hands for dear life. not necessarily because you feel like drinking it, but because it’s cold and it feels good. meanwhile, oscar is bustling around looking like he’s doing five things at once. one moment he’s moving the eggs around in the pan, the next he’s getting sheets out of the linen closet, and then he’s in the bathroom with the sink running.

“i could get used to this,” you tease, managing to not sound completely miserable as he brings over two cool cloths. one goes on your neck, and the other rests against your forehead. “ah, my fever’s already gone.”

“nice try,” oscar says, adjusting the cloth on your forehead a little. “eggs are almost done, you ready to eat?”

“are you gonna feed me?” you bat your eyelashes at him, and promptly have your second coughing fit of the morning.

“i might have to, you can barely talk without almost coughing up a lung.” he moves into the kitchen and begins making up a plate for you, followed by pouring hot water into a mug and placing the tea bag in before adding some honey and stirring it. “i didn’t burn the toast, so i expect a five star rating.”

“we’ll see about that,” you say, eagerly accepting the mug of tea when he holds it out and taking a long sip. even though it’s hot, it feels incredible as it goes down your throat. “i’m willing to give you bonus points for the tea.”

“that doesn’t count, i didn’t actually make that. c’mon, have some food.” he takes the mug from you and replaces it with the plate of toast and eggs.

you eat without complaint, but your nose being so stuffy kind of takes away from your ability to taste. all the same, you make your reactions as enthusiastic as possible. oscar’s a pretty decent cook, you both know it, but it’s been a running bit in your relationship to smack talk his skills in the kitchen.

“thanks, oz.” you say quietly when you’re done eating and you’ve drank two cups of tea. “i feel a lot better already.”

“you look sleepy,” he points out, flipping both cloths so the cooler sides can be on your skin.

“no, ‘m fine.” you disagree, even though you can feel yourself sinking back into the couch and your eyelids getting heavy.

“take a nap, honey. you’ll feel even better if you let your body rest.” he stands up to clear your dishes, and you stop him by weakly grabbing the bottom of his shirt. “what’s the matter?”

“nothing, just… want you to stay.”

“of course, baby. one second.” he’s quick to put your dishes in the sink before he’s back at your side, and you waste no time in slumping against him. “are you sure you want to cuddle? you feel pretty hot still.”

“i’m always hot, you tell me all the time.”

he sighs, knowing he won’t win this unless he wants to deal with you being sick and annoyed that he won’t do what you want. “touché, honey.”

you don’t answer, so wrapped up in the comfort oscar gives you even though you’re still hot and he’s often your personal heater. strangely enough, his body heat combats the fever heat in a way that’s so nice you don’t even really notice yourself losing consciousness. meanwhile, oscar leans back against the couch, making sure the washcloth stays put against your head and your ponytail doesn’t fall out when you shift in your sleep.

of course, he ends up getting sick a week later, but you’re quick to drop everything and take care of him, just like he did for you.

word count: 1,340

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: i once again hate this ending but we move!! thank you for sending this in!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever