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In honour of the last GP of 2024, here’s the 2024 F1 teams as produce stickers

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quick silhouette study ft. my fav lovebirds :)

(inspo from pinterest)

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he would definitely try to keep the rythm... and he'd succeed

I must be extra horny at the moment bc why is the image of Oscar listening to house music sexy to me?

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as i saw someone on twitter do, i present (half) of the current f1 grid with piercings i think they should get(plus my attempts of editing them):

Oscar Piastri: a simple lobe, helix, and an eyebrow piercing

Lando Norris: lower labret, nose stud, and an industrial(maybe a tongue piercing in there 😉)

George Russel: Daith, a couple lobe studs, and a septum (DEF A TONGUE PIERCING PLEASE HEAR ME OUT)

Kimi Antonelli: the lip ring things idk what u call them lowkey, and js a lobe

Charles Leclerc: give me uhh eyebrow piercing and throw an eyebrow slit in there for fun 😛😛

Lewis Hamilton: Big fan of the piercings he has but imagine a septum..

Max Verstappen: a lip ring(still dont know the name 😅)

Yuki Tsunoda: a gauge would b heat im telling u

Carlos Sainz: bring back the nose stud plz bbgirl 💔

Alex Albon: One on the central lip ring things, a eyebrow piercing, a couple lobe piercings, and an industrial (yknow what js give all the 2019 rookies tongue piercings for fun)

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THE FUCKING SIZE DIFFERENCE BW THE PINKIES OH MY GOD

OH THAT'S CRAZY every time i see a photo that showcases their hand size difference, my head starts spinning. it's crazy.. like look at them

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player two

The suitcase thudded onto your hallway floor with a soft oof from your little brother. He wiped his shoes carefully, scanning the apartment with wide, curious eyes. “This is actually… nicer than I thought.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks.”

“I mean—” he shrugged, brushing curls out of his eyes, “—for a small city flat, it’s kinda cozy.”

Before you could defend your beloved kitchen nook or the string lights above the couch, Oscar walked out of the bedroom in sweats and a hoodie, soft curls still slightly damp from a recent shower. He offered a small smile and a wave.

“Hey, man,” he said gently. “You must be the famous little brother I’ve heard about.”

Your brother blinked. Then blinked again.

“…You’re Oscar Piastri.”

Oscar chuckled. “Last time I checked.”

Your brother turned to you with an expression that practically screamed Are you kidding me right now? and then back to Oscar like he was trying not to combust. “I, uh—hi.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be weird.”

Oscar smiled and extended his hand. “Come on, let’s get your stuff sorted. I made up the futon in the study. Hope that works?”

Your brother looked from Oscar to the hallway, then nodded. “Yeah. That’s… really cool. Thanks.”

And just like that, the gears began turning.

Over the next two days, Oscar surprised you in the smallest, most specific ways — not with grand gestures, but by how carefully he navigated around your brother’s teenage awkwardness. He asked about the video games your brother liked. Let him choose the Friday night pizza toppings (even when that meant pineapple and chili flakes). He even adjusted the thermostat when your brother muttered that it felt a bit cold — quietly, without fuss.

It was subtle, seamless. And yet you saw all of it.

Oscar wasn’t just being polite. He was folding your brother into the rhythm of your shared space like it was instinct.

And then Saturday evening came, wrapped in the sound of soft rain outside and leftover Chinese boxes on the coffee table. You emerged from a hot shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel and half-damp hair, when the sound of laughter echoed down the hallway — loud, crackling, and familiar.

You padded toward the living room, socked feet whispering over the hardwood floor.

The first thing you saw was your brother on the edge of the couch, clutching a controller like his life depended on it. His whole body leaned forward, eyes narrowed at the TV screen in full F1 racing glory.

Oscar sat beside him, one leg tucked under the other, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration, mirroring your brother’s position like they were in sync without knowing it.

“No, no, no—go wide! GO WIDE!” your brother shouted.

“I am going wide, you little gremlin!” Oscar shot back, laughing, his voice raised in mock-panic.

“You’re P5! Come on! That McLaren’s got more in it—”

“I will yeet this car off the track just to take you with me—”

“No you won’t, you’re too competitive.”

“Says the twelve-year-old with a vendetta against Charles’ virtual avatar!”

“I’m thirteen!” your brother shrieked.

You stood quietly in the doorway, arms wrapped around yourself, heart swelling.

It was silly. Just a game, just a living room, just two people who weren’t meant to fit together so easily — and yet they did. Oscar glanced sideways at your brother when he cracked a joke, mirroring his laugh like it came naturally. Your brother elbowed him like they’d known each other for years, and not just seventy-two hours.

You watched Oscar’s hand ruffle your brother’s hair playfully, drawing an exaggerated ugh from him.

Oscar grinned. “It’s part of the bonding process. You’ll live.”

You moved closer, curling up into the armchair with a blanket draped over your shoulders, still unnoticed. You didn’t speak. Just watched the two of them banter and race and argue about cornering speeds like they’d been doing this for weeks.

Your brother threw his arms in the air after winning one round. “Let’s goooo! Player One still reigns supreme!”

Oscar leaned back, mock-offended. “I let you win.”

“You did not!”

“I was being a gracious host.”

“You spun out in Sector 2!”

Oscar shrugged. “Because I was too busy carrying the emotional weight of this household.”

Your brother doubled over laughing.

And somewhere between their snarky jabs and exaggerated race commentary, Oscar looked up — just for a second — and found your eyes.

Something in his smile softened.

He didn’t say anything. He just gave you a look that said, I see you. I know this means everything to you. And it means everything to me too, because it’s yours.

Later, after your brother had shuffled off to bed with sleepy protests and half-finished snack crumbs on his hoodie, you found Oscar in the kitchen, rinsing two empty water glasses.

You wrapped your arms around his middle from behind, pressing your cheek into the warmth of his back.

“You two were loud.”

He chuckled. “That kid’s a menace on the track. He brake-checked me like a pro.”

“He likes you.”

“I like him too.”

You felt his hand cover yours over his ribs.

“Thanks for not making it weird,” you whispered.

Oscar turned around, arms coming to rest around your waist, gentle and loose. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“You made him feel safe.”

Oscar looked at you, long and soft, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I made space for your world. That’s not a chore — it’s a privilege.”

You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the smell of laundry soap and leftover garlic noodles and something warm that had nothing to do with temperature.

“You looked really hot when you beat him at Silverstone, by the way,” you murmured.

Oscar chuckled. “Tell him that tomorrow. Might humble him.”

You grinned. “He’s a teenage boy. Humbling him will take divine intervention.”

“Then it’s a good thing I drive like a god.”

You snorted against his hoodie. “Okay, Player Two.”

Oscar kissed the top of your head. “Always, if it means being part of your team.”

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he looks so tall in these 👀

oh 🥹💚

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i realized i haven't posted any excerpts in a while... sorry 'bout that

This man, who – quite literally – stumbled into her life just a few short days ago, is on his best way to turn her life upside down. Somehow, he managed to weasel his way into her head, breaking tiny cracks into the carefully erected walls around her heart – laugh by laugh, look by look, touch by touch.

To add to that, he managed to not only gain some of her trust, but also to gain enough of it for her to show him her quiet place – the garden.

The garden. The only place she can come to when the weight of the world, of her past, gets too heavy for her to carry on her shoulders.

“Man, Bella, I’m telling you…” Belladonna purrs as Erin runs her fingers gently through the soft fluff beneath the stray’s chin. “I never, never would’ve thought that I could trust someone this easily ever again.”

‘It’s too soon,’ the voice in the back of her mind whispers. ‘You’re moving too fast.’

‘What if he’s just like him?’

Getting up from the couch, Erin moves to the kitchenette, reaching up to grab a glass from the cabinet to fill with water. Taking a sip, she leans against the counter, the lights still out, her apartment cast in darkness only broken by the dim light of the moon creeping through the curtains.

‘He isn’t, though.’

Lando is gentle, radiating kind energy, his smile and laughter bright like sunshine.

Marcus on the other hand… Marcus was like quicksand. Luring you in with his innocent demeanour, his deceiving looks, before pulling you down into your unavoidable demise.

You kick and scream and try to claw your way out, but it’s no use, and eventually you just give in to the warm feeling of his grains seeping into your mouth, your nose, your eyes, until he has swallowed you up completely.

Until nothing but darkness is left.

~ excerpt from chapter 7 of my lando x fem oc fanfic on ao3. go have a look! ~

what damage do you have? - talent.

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PROTECT HIM AT ALL COSTS

ISACK

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Forgot to post the semi rendered version Oscar Pastry

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Baptism

he belongs to mclaren

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Little rant.

Gabriel said that Lando wrote him a congratulation text after getting his seat.

Franco said that Lando was the first one to contact him and that they organised a lunch with him and his manager to talk about what were Franco’s preoccupations.

Susie said that Lando frequently visits the F1 Academy paddock.

Multiple fans at multiple races or F1 events said that Lando went out of his way to greet them and give them as much time as he could.

As of recently, fans said he even went to the fans that were outside of the very expensive red carpet.

And the thing that I love the most about all of this is that it’s never Lando saying these things, that we always hear it from third parties. It’s simply amazing.

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wdym incorrect f1 quotes, this definitely happened

Lewis: Are you good?  Charles: In what sense?  Lewis: Generally.  Charles: Oh, definitely not.

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Helmet marks and gentle eyes 🩶

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now that he passed his exams, he means business

Kimi? 😳😳😳

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part 3 of chapter 9 OUT NOW on ao3 - go check it out! 💚

also, IT'S RACE WEEK YAY

what damage do you have? - talent.

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