maha!

(delusional) op81 apologist ♡

[be4rnellis]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭

chronic procrastinator, avid formula 1 enthusiast, and occasional writer. 💌

・.・✫・.* ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ۰ ۪۪۫۫ · 🩰 my carrd !

i am nineteen.

this acc is (mostly) for f1 but i write whatever and whenever i want. i will mostly write for op81, ln4, ob87, ka12, cl16, aa23, and mv33, but feel free to request for whatever driver u want!

☆.｡.:* •°. *࿐.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

masterlist!

[rotatedracoon]

Twt reminded me that this exists

[be4rnellis]

strong — op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader my masterlist

WARNINGS based off of strong by one direction. established relationship, fluff, slightly clingy!osc, hurt/comfort but mostly comfort. this is just cute!

word count: 1.2k , a/n at the end!

in which he loses out on arguably the most important race of his career so far, and all he wants is you.

❝ so baby, hold on to my heart need you to keep me from falling apart.❞

OSCAR PIASTRI WAS THE TYPE TO not talk to people when he was going through it. he was more reserved and quieter, telling everyone he was okay and plastering a fake smile on his face despite having the worst day of his life.

he was different with you, though.

with you, he let his guard down. he talked and talked until, in the more terrible circumstances, he would cry. oscar never cried, but with you, sometimes, he did.

he’d had a tough past few weeks. finishing outside the top three in every race since monza, having a terrible run in azerbaijan, and even coming into qatar with a disqualification in vegas. but oscar was determined.

the 2025 qatar grand prix was supposed to be his. it was weekend to top all weekends in oscar’s career. he topped the free practice, got pole for the sprint, won the sprint, got pole for the race. the race was his to win. and everyone knew it.

until suddenly, it wasn’t.

he lost out due to a team strategy error and came out second to max verstappen.

it was his first podium in months, but all oscar could think about was how he could have won. he should have won. and now, the championship that was already slipping through his grasp seemed to be gone completely.

it was no secret that oscar was frustrated and upset. it showed in every interview. he tried his best to keep his composure, keep that “calm, cool, collected” demeanor. but it wasn’t working. and you, watching on from monaco, could see right through him.

you were unable to join him in qatar, having something come up at work, but you had plans to meet him in abu dhabi for the final race of the season. oscar made sure you felt more than included by calling you before and after every session.

he hadn’t called after the race, though. and it had ended over an hour ago.

you knew it was getting late in qatar. and you knew that oscar was probably beating himself up over the team’s mistakes. he’d come around eventually. he always does. and you’re always there for him.

the call came hours after the race. it was nearly midnight in monaco. qatar was two hours ahead.

“osc?” you asked as soon as you picked up. oscar’s face filled the screen.

he lay on his hotel bed, flat on his stomach. he was still dressed in his team hoodie. his hair was messy and his eyes were red around the edges, like he’d just been crying but rubbed away the tears before he called you.

but like always, you saw right through him.

“oh, baby,” you gasped, your voice softening immediately.

oscar’s lip trembled at your voice, but he kept his composure.

“hi,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“hi,” you replied. oscar shifted, so he was now resting with his head against the headboard of the bed. “are you okay?”

you half-expected him to lie. to give you the same answer he gave the media and all his family and friends. but you also knew oscar better than anyone. if he even tried to lie, he would come around and talk to you eventually.

“no,” oscar admitted, letting out a shaky breath. he ran a hand through his hair.

“talk to me,” you urged him. “please, osc.”

“i…” oscar’s voice cracked ever so slightly. anyone else would have missed it, but not you. “i should have won. that race was mine, i—” he cut himself off, frustrated. “fuck.”

“i know,” you said. “you drove perfectly.”

“but for what?” oscar looked at the ceiling defeatedly. “none of that mattered. my perfect start, my lead. it was all lost after the team chose not to come in. this was my one chance. my chance to prove myself that i’m still in the fight.”

“it’s not over yet—”

“i’m third in the standings,” oscar deadpanned. “i’m third and it’s going to take a fucking miracle for me to win it now.”

“oscar, listen to me,” you said before he could say anything else. he looked at you, his eyes glassy and his face full of exhaustion and pure frustration and disappointment.

“i’m listening,” he mumbled.

“it’s not over. it’s not over until it’s actually over. you have one more week. one more race. one more chance to prove yourself. and if it is over? then, your main takeaway shouldn’t be that you didn’t win, it’s that you could have won. you’re in the championship fight in your third season, dominating most of it. oscar, that’s amazing. not everyone can do that. and it’s not just the damn car.”

“you’re too nice to me, baby,” oscar sighed.

“i’m proud of you,” you corrected him. “osc, i’m so proud, i can’t even put it all into words. your work ethic, your determination, your everything. you inspire me every day.”

“now you’re just exaggerating to make me feel better,” oscar shook his head, but there was a small smile on his face and his cheeks were tinged pink.

“maybe,” you grinned at him. “is it working?”

“no,” oscar lied. he let out another deep breath. “i really fucking miss you.”

“i really miss you, too. but you’ll see me in two days.”

“that’s way too long,” oscar’s expression softened as he looked at you through the screen. “i really needed you today.”

“i’m right here, osc,” you said, your heart breaking at his words.

“you know what i meant,” he whispered, sadly. oscar was never the clingy type, so seeing him like this made you incredibly upset.

“i know,” you replied, not really sure of what to say next. sometimes, oscar just needed you there rather than saying words to try to comfort him.

“you really believe i could do it?” he asked again after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“i do,” you nodded. “you’re incredible, oscar. if anyone can do it, it’s you. you should be so proud of yourself. you’ve made it this far without giving up and kept going even when the season got ugly for you. don’t lose hope the week before it ends.”

“god, you’re gonna make me cry,” oscar let out a small laugh and looked up at the ceiling again, blinking away tears.

“you’re getting soft, piastri,” you teased him. “don’t let people know you actually have emotions.”

“ha ha,” oscar rolled his eyes and shut them for a moment, a smile still on his face.

it warmed your heart to see oscar feeling better. to see that you made him feel better.

“you should sleep,” you told him. oscar opened his eyes and adjusted his position so that he was now under the covers, the side of his face mushed against the pillows.

“stay on the phone with me?” he asked, softly. you nodded.

“of course, baby. i’ll stay on the phone all night if you want me too.”

“please,” he sighed, relieved. he shut his eyes again.

minutes passed. you had also started getting comfortable and ready for bed, putting your phone on the charger so it didn’t die while oscar was on the phone.

“hey,” oscar whispered once you shut the light off.

“hi,” you replied. the lights were off now on his end, too. both of your faces just illuminated by your phones.

“i love you. like, so much.”

you smiled at him. “and i love you. like, so much more.”

“not possible,” he shook his head. “good night, baby.”

words from maha

needed something to heal me after the mclaren disasterclass in qatar this past weekend that i'm STILL fuming about btw

[be4rnellis]

hsmtmts inspired actor!oscar fic won the poll & is currently in the works and i fear it is much more heartbreaking and dramatic than i intended it to be…!!!!!! like borderline ENEMIES to lovers at this point

[be4rnellis]

i promise i didn’t forget about this…writers block is not for the weak

[be4rnellis]

oh my god

[landosaints]

want u -> lando norris

being lando's is the best thing ever, you think.

STARRING -> lando norris (ln1) x reader

WARNINGS/TROPES -> fluff, established relationship, boyfriend lando, clingy reader!!, lots of pda, max fewtrell cameo, kissing, some profane language, club setting, touchy lando!!, overall v soft + sweet

ARI SAYS -> welcome to the first official fic on landosaints! i'm so excited to start this new chapter of my writing journey on tumblr...so enjoy this debut with a classic flirty lando scenario! enjoy <3

ARI'S PLAYING -> want u, noevdv

WORD COUNT -> six hundred thirty-eight (638)

chill music bumps and clicks in the dark club, chatter and clinking of glasses mixing into one big sound as the night stretches on. the air is warm, packed with bodies and hype energy from the dance floor just moments earlier, and you feel yourself finally starting to relax.

(in your boyfriend lando's arms, of course.)

he's slumped back in the booth he rented out for your shared friend group, legs spread lazily as he nurses a drink in one hand. your head is tucked into his chest, fingers toying with the chain around his neck as he conversates with his best friend max. lando's pleasantly warm, cologne mixing in with the floral scent of the booth as it washes over you in waves.

you know lando's locked in on the conversation conspiring between the two, noticing the way he subconsciously chews at his lip. he's nodding in understanding at something max said, curls shifting with the movement as he chimes in.

your hands are sliding down lando's exposed forearm, fingers softly grazing his tanned skin as you smile up at him. "lan?"

he looks down at you as if you've hung the stars in the sky, lips quirking up in a small smile as he replies. "yes, love?"

"i wanna go home. i'm tired of these people," you whine teasingly, and your friends giggle while max throws his hands up in the air dramatically. "sorry we're no fun."

"glad you know it, max. you're terribly boring to listen to." you grin in a teasing manner, and max just rolls his eyes, playfully shooing you away.

"i just think someone's too busy climbing lando like a tree." your friend jeers, and you don't even deny it, leaning into lando more as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"damn right," lando winks, taking a sip of whatever's in his glass before he slowly sits up, allowing you to adjust your position as he grabs his keys and wallet from the table.

"well you heard it here, folks. it's time for us to go." lando groans as he stretches, standing up from his place in the booth before he leaves a nice tip on the table. your friends quickly slide from the booth to let you exit, bidding you goodbye with hugs as max does his handshake with lando for the last time tonight.

after saying goodbye for the night, lando protectively puts his hand on the small of your back before guiding you out of the bumping club. the night sky is clear, fresh with a nice breeze as nightlife continues on the street.

"did you have fun tonight, love?" lando's leaning into you slightly as you two walk to his car, lips brushing your ear in a hurried kiss as you nod. "lots of fun."

"good. i'm glad i could take you with me." lando smiles, one hand in his pocket as the other one grabs yours. you're swinging his arm from side to side, basking in the night air as he leads you to the parking space. once you reach the car door, he opens it for you, sprinting to the other side and starting it as soon as your seatbelt clicks into place.

"we'll stop by somewhere to get you something to eat, and then we can go home and do some netflix and chill, yeah?" lando has one hand on your thigh as he glances behind him before backing out, and you smile happily, nearly jumping out of your chair in joy as you nod. "oh my god, yes, please."

lando chuckles, discarding his cap and tossing it to the back before you hastily run your hand through his curls and peck his lips. "now drive, lover boy."

lando's pressing his foot on the gas as soon as those lovely words leave your mouth.

arinote (a/n): first fic on this account! don't be afraid to reblog <3

[aurora-sadprose]

put down that c.ai thing and read y/n fics like god intended.

[be4rnellis]

the question is do i write a part 2 to strong where reader comforts oscar again but after abu dhabi ORRRR do i do a birthday special projecting my delusions….

basically: angst/comfort or just straight fluff…

[be4rnellis]

guess who’s 19 today…

[be4rnellis]

LANDO WDC!!!! as an op1 truther all season i really am proud of lando. GOOD JOB TO EVERYONE

[be4rnellis]

strong — op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader my masterlist

WARNINGS based off of strong by one direction. established relationship, fluff, slightly clingy!osc, hurt/comfort but mostly comfort. this is just cute!

word count: 1.2k , a/n at the end!

in which he loses out on arguably the most important race of his career so far, and all he wants is you.

❝ so baby, hold on to my heart need you to keep me from falling apart.❞

OSCAR PIASTRI WAS THE TYPE TO not talk to people when he was going through it. he was more reserved and quieter, telling everyone he was okay and plastering a fake smile on his face despite having the worst day of his life.

he was different with you, though.

with you, he let his guard down. he talked and talked until, in the more terrible circumstances, he would cry. oscar never cried, but with you, sometimes, he did.

he’d had a tough past few weeks. finishing outside the top three in every race since monza, having a terrible run in azerbaijan, and even coming into qatar with a disqualification in vegas. but oscar was determined.

the 2025 qatar grand prix was supposed to be his. it was weekend to top all weekends in oscar’s career. he topped the free practice, got pole for the sprint, won the sprint, got pole for the race. the race was his to win. and everyone knew it.

until suddenly, it wasn’t.

he lost out due to a team strategy error and came out second to max verstappen.

it was his first podium in months, but all oscar could think about was how he could have won. he should have won. and now, the championship that was already slipping through his grasp seemed to be gone completely.

it was no secret that oscar was frustrated and upset. it showed in every interview. he tried his best to keep his composure, keep that “calm, cool, collected” demeanor. but it wasn’t working. and you, watching on from monaco, could see right through him.

you were unable to join him in qatar, having something come up at work, but you had plans to meet him in abu dhabi for the final race of the season. oscar made sure you felt more than included by calling you before and after every session.

he hadn’t called after the race, though. and it had ended over an hour ago.

you knew it was getting late in qatar. and you knew that oscar was probably beating himself up over the team’s mistakes. he’d come around eventually. he always does. and you’re always there for him.

the call came hours after the race. it was nearly midnight in monaco. qatar was two hours ahead.

“osc?” you asked as soon as you picked up. oscar’s face filled the screen.

he lay on his hotel bed, flat on his stomach. he was still dressed in his team hoodie. his hair was messy and his eyes were red around the edges, like he’d just been crying but rubbed away the tears before he called you.

but like always, you saw right through him.

“oh, baby,” you gasped, your voice softening immediately.

oscar’s lip trembled at your voice, but he kept his composure.

“hi,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“hi,” you replied. oscar shifted, so he was now resting with his head against the headboard of the bed. “are you okay?”

you half-expected him to lie. to give you the same answer he gave the media and all his family and friends. but you also knew oscar better than anyone. if he even tried to lie, he would come around and talk to you eventually.

“no,” oscar admitted, letting out a shaky breath. he ran a hand through his hair.

“talk to me,” you urged him. “please, osc.”

“i…” oscar’s voice cracked ever so slightly. anyone else would have missed it, but not you. “i should have won. that race was mine, i—” he cut himself off, frustrated. “fuck.”

“i know,” you said. “you drove perfectly.”

“but for what?” oscar looked at the ceiling defeatedly. “none of that mattered. my perfect start, my lead. it was all lost after the team chose not to come in. this was my one chance. my chance to prove myself that i’m still in the fight.”

“it’s not over yet—”

“i’m third in the standings,” oscar deadpanned. “i’m third and it’s going to take a fucking miracle for me to win it now.”

“oscar, listen to me,” you said before he could say anything else. he looked at you, his eyes glassy and his face full of exhaustion and pure frustration and disappointment.

“i’m listening,” he mumbled.

“it’s not over. it’s not over until it’s actually over. you have one more week. one more race. one more chance to prove yourself. and if it is over? then, your main takeaway shouldn’t be that you didn’t win, it’s that you could have won. you’re in the championship fight in your third season, dominating most of it. oscar, that’s amazing. not everyone can do that. and it’s not just the damn car.”

“you’re too nice to me, baby,” oscar sighed.

“i’m proud of you,” you corrected him. “osc, i’m so proud, i can’t even put it all into words. your work ethic, your determination, your everything. you inspire me every day.”

“now you’re just exaggerating to make me feel better,” oscar shook his head, but there was a small smile on his face and his cheeks were tinged pink.

“maybe,” you grinned at him. “is it working?”

“no,” oscar lied. he let out another deep breath. “i really fucking miss you.”

“i really miss you, too. but you’ll see me in two days.”

“that’s way too long,” oscar’s expression softened as he looked at you through the screen. “i really needed you today.”

“i’m right here, osc,” you said, your heart breaking at his words.

“you know what i meant,” he whispered, sadly. oscar was never the clingy type, so seeing him like this made you incredibly upset.

“i know,” you replied, not really sure of what to say next. sometimes, oscar just needed you there rather than saying words to try to comfort him.

“you really believe i could do it?” he asked again after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“i do,” you nodded. “you’re incredible, oscar. if anyone can do it, it’s you. you should be so proud of yourself. you’ve made it this far without giving up and kept going even when the season got ugly for you. don’t lose hope the week before it ends.”

“god, you’re gonna make me cry,” oscar let out a small laugh and looked up at the ceiling again, blinking away tears.

“you’re getting soft, piastri,” you teased him. “don’t let people know you actually have emotions.”

“ha ha,” oscar rolled his eyes and shut them for a moment, a smile still on his face.

it warmed your heart to see oscar feeling better. to see that you made him feel better.

“you should sleep,” you told him. oscar opened his eyes and adjusted his position so that he was now under the covers, the side of his face mushed against the pillows.

“stay on the phone with me?” he asked, softly. you nodded.

“of course, baby. i’ll stay on the phone all night if you want me too.”

“please,” he sighed, relieved. he shut his eyes again.

minutes passed. you had also started getting comfortable and ready for bed, putting your phone on the charger so it didn’t die while oscar was on the phone.

“hey,” oscar whispered once you shut the light off.

“hi,” you replied. the lights were off now on his end, too. both of your faces just illuminated by your phones.

“i love you. like, so much.”

you smiled at him. “and i love you. like, so much more.”

“not possible,” he shook his head. “good night, baby.”

words from maha

needed something to heal me after the mclaren disasterclass in qatar this past weekend that i'm STILL fuming about btw

[be4rnellis]

strong — op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader my masterlist

WARNINGS based off of strong by one direction. established relationship, fluff, slightly clingy!osc, hurt/comfort but mostly comfort. this is just cute!

word count: 1.2k , a/n at the end!

in which he loses out on arguably the most important race of his career so far, and all he wants is you.

❝ so baby, hold on to my heart need you to keep me from falling apart.❞

OSCAR PIASTRI WAS THE TYPE TO not talk to people when he was going through it. he was more reserved and quieter, telling everyone he was okay and plastering a fake smile on his face despite having the worst day of his life.

he was different with you, though.

with you, he let his guard down. he talked and talked until, in the more terrible circumstances, he would cry. oscar never cried, but with you, sometimes, he did.

he’d had a tough past few weeks. finishing outside the top three in every race since monza, having a terrible run in azerbaijan, and even coming into qatar with a disqualification in vegas. but oscar was determined.

the 2025 qatar grand prix was supposed to be his. it was weekend to top all weekends in oscar’s career. he topped the free practice, got pole for the sprint, won the sprint, got pole for the race. the race was his to win. and everyone knew it.

until suddenly, it wasn’t.

he lost out due to a team strategy error and came out second to max verstappen.

it was his first podium in months, but all oscar could think about was how he could have won. he should have won. and now, the championship that was already slipping through his grasp seemed to be gone completely.

it was no secret that oscar was frustrated and upset. it showed in every interview. he tried his best to keep his composure, keep that “calm, cool, collected” demeanor. but it wasn’t working. and you, watching on from monaco, could see right through him.

you were unable to join him in qatar, having something come up at work, but you had plans to meet him in abu dhabi for the final race of the season. oscar made sure you felt more than included by calling you before and after every session.

he hadn’t called after the race, though. and it had ended over an hour ago.

you knew it was getting late in qatar. and you knew that oscar was probably beating himself up over the team’s mistakes. he’d come around eventually. he always does. and you’re always there for him.

the call came hours after the race. it was nearly midnight in monaco. qatar was two hours ahead.

“osc?” you asked as soon as you picked up. oscar’s face filled the screen.

he lay on his hotel bed, flat on his stomach. he was still dressed in his team hoodie. his hair was messy and his eyes were red around the edges, like he’d just been crying but rubbed away the tears before he called you.

but like always, you saw right through him.

“oh, baby,” you gasped, your voice softening immediately.

oscar’s lip trembled at your voice, but he kept his composure.

“hi,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“hi,” you replied. oscar shifted, so he was now resting with his head against the headboard of the bed. “are you okay?”

you half-expected him to lie. to give you the same answer he gave the media and all his family and friends. but you also knew oscar better than anyone. if he even tried to lie, he would come around and talk to you eventually.

“no,” oscar admitted, letting out a shaky breath. he ran a hand through his hair.

“talk to me,” you urged him. “please, osc.”

“i…” oscar’s voice cracked ever so slightly. anyone else would have missed it, but not you. “i should have won. that race was mine, i—” he cut himself off, frustrated. “fuck.”

“i know,” you said. “you drove perfectly.”

“but for what?” oscar looked at the ceiling defeatedly. “none of that mattered. my perfect start, my lead. it was all lost after the team chose not to come in. this was my one chance. my chance to prove myself that i’m still in the fight.”

“it’s not over yet—”

“i’m third in the standings,” oscar deadpanned. “i’m third and it’s going to take a fucking miracle for me to win it now.”

“oscar, listen to me,” you said before he could say anything else. he looked at you, his eyes glassy and his face full of exhaustion and pure frustration and disappointment.

“i’m listening,” he mumbled.

“it’s not over. it’s not over until it’s actually over. you have one more week. one more race. one more chance to prove yourself. and if it is over? then, your main takeaway shouldn’t be that you didn’t win, it’s that you could have won. you’re in the championship fight in your third season, dominating most of it. oscar, that’s amazing. not everyone can do that. and it’s not just the damn car.”

“you’re too nice to me, baby,” oscar sighed.

“i’m proud of you,” you corrected him. “osc, i’m so proud, i can’t even put it all into words. your work ethic, your determination, your everything. you inspire me every day.”

“now you’re just exaggerating to make me feel better,” oscar shook his head, but there was a small smile on his face and his cheeks were tinged pink.

“maybe,” you grinned at him. “is it working?”

“no,” oscar lied. he let out another deep breath. “i really fucking miss you.”

“i really miss you, too. but you’ll see me in two days.”

“that’s way too long,” oscar’s expression softened as he looked at you through the screen. “i really needed you today.”

“i’m right here, osc,” you said, your heart breaking at his words.

“you know what i meant,” he whispered, sadly. oscar was never the clingy type, so seeing him like this made you incredibly upset.

“i know,” you replied, not really sure of what to say next. sometimes, oscar just needed you there rather than saying words to try to comfort him.

“you really believe i could do it?” he asked again after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“i do,” you nodded. “you’re incredible, oscar. if anyone can do it, it’s you. you should be so proud of yourself. you’ve made it this far without giving up and kept going even when the season got ugly for you. don’t lose hope the week before it ends.”

“god, you’re gonna make me cry,” oscar let out a small laugh and looked up at the ceiling again, blinking away tears.

“you’re getting soft, piastri,” you teased him. “don’t let people know you actually have emotions.”

“ha ha,” oscar rolled his eyes and shut them for a moment, a smile still on his face.

it warmed your heart to see oscar feeling better. to see that you made him feel better.

“you should sleep,” you told him. oscar opened his eyes and adjusted his position so that he was now under the covers, the side of his face mushed against the pillows.

“stay on the phone with me?” he asked, softly. you nodded.

“of course, baby. i’ll stay on the phone all night if you want me too.”

“please,” he sighed, relieved. he shut his eyes again.

minutes passed. you had also started getting comfortable and ready for bed, putting your phone on the charger so it didn’t die while oscar was on the phone.

“hey,” oscar whispered once you shut the light off.

“hi,” you replied. the lights were off now on his end, too. both of your faces just illuminated by your phones.

“i love you. like, so much.”

you smiled at him. “and i love you. like, so much more.”

“not possible,” he shook his head. “good night, baby.”

words from maha

needed something to heal me after the mclaren disasterclass in qatar this past weekend that i'm STILL fuming about btw

[be4rnellis]

put my actor!osc fic on pause to write a fluffy hurt/comfort clingy!osc fic after the events of q*tar for my own sanity

[be4rnellis]

PRAYED FOR TIMES LIKE THESE

[be4rnellis]

we are so back

[be4rnellis]

watching season 5 vol 1 and realizing the byler agenda really never left me, it was just on hiatus

[be4rnellis]

liam lawson when i fucking catch you

[be4rnellis]

nvm, zak brown & andrea stella when i fucking catch you