lando we can be world champion

marissa. 28. she/her.

[forzalando]

18+ blog, mdni

previously lumos-barnes, siriuslyimmoony

requests: closed!

f1 masterlist

marvel masterlist*

*will be added when i update broken links

currently writing for:

formula 1! drivers i will write for - max verstappen, lando norris, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, george russell, and oscar piastri.

clark kent/superman

request guidelines: please try to send me quotes, one-sentence ideas, scenarios, etc. instead of an entire plot! drivers i write for listed above but if you really want a specific driver, please message me and we can discuss!

i will not write requests for: any form of abuse or violence, non-consensual actions or discussions regarding them, pregnancy, cheating, any form of self-harm, smut (i can work with spicy but no full on smut as of right now), significant age gaps. if i receive a request with something not listed here that makes me uncomfortable, i reserve the right to deny writing that request and will update this list! i will try to write all of the requests i receive within reason but it is not guaranteed!

[forzalando]

i may not be posting any fics but at least you guys know i’m not using AI to write because i’m literally not posting #silverlining

[forzalando]

just saw a random tik tok about LIP GLOSS that used the angry version of illicit affairs as the sound and oh god the immediate urge to write an angsty jack abbot x reader fic

[hunybody]

i hope dr mohan cuts the brakes on robby's bike on her way out

[theatomicluminarydetective]

oh boy i’m winded

[forzalando]

happy birthday to me, I’m officially chopped and unc

[forzalando]

just checking in to let everyone know that i am alive😀

[forzalando]

still alive guys but unfortunately life is still kicking me in the shins, lungs, and kidneys repeatedly LOL i miss you all. i am keeping up with f1 and oh boy is this one a wild ride!!!!

if any moots see this: love you, thinking of you, wishing you well🫶🏼

[forzalando]

IM STILL ALIVE I SWEARRRR

i miss you all so much and i legitimately promise i’m going to post something before the end of the year even if it’s a cheesy mistletoe first kiss fic

[likepilotlights]

asks that i would like to know about people because i'm nosy

if you have a productivity system of any kind what is it?

are you a person who likes visiting other people's houses or having people visit you?

do you put pyjamas/comfy clothes on as soon as you get home or just before bed (if you wear pyjamas)?

do you love or hate voice notes and why?

what's your one dream silly house thing, like a secret room or a fireman's pole or whatever?

if you could click your fingers and never have to do one task (self care stuff, some form of admin, taking the bins out, etc) ever again what would it be?

if you drive how do you say thank you to other drivers? how do you express your annoyance with other drivers?

do you have a bedtime routine and what is it?

what's the item (clothes, jewellery, bag, makeup, accessory) that makes you feel good about yourself when you have it on you?

how do you sign off work emails, if you send them

on a scale of 'we're all family here' to corporate hands off nobody-knows-each-other what is your job like?

on a scale of 1-10, 1 being very likely, how likely would it be for you to have sex with someone you'd just met that day if you really fancied them and they were up for it?

if you were home alone and only cooking for yourself, what would you make? assume you can have anything you want but you can't order takeaway

if you could only shop at one supermarket ever again what would it be and why?

if you're british, what gcse subjects did you do? (if you're not british idk if you can choose what classes you do age 14-16 but if you could what were they)

if you had to take a drug of some kind right now, what would it be and who with if anyone?

what's your favourite advert you've ever seen? can be tv/radio/print/digital

when you first walk through the door after being out after a long day what do you do?

what's your favourite museum or art gallery you've ever been to? bonus points if it was for a specific exhibition

if you could live in any TV/film house what would it be?

do you think you have sex more or less than the average person?

what would be your go-to outfit for meeting a new friend for the first time for a drink in a bar? bonus points for visuals

when was the last time you properly snogged someone?

if your family does christmas, what time of the day do you eat your christmas dinner? do you have a special breakfast? are you presents open at the crack of dawn people or do you wait?

do you love or hate airports? what's your favourite/least favourite bit? would you rather fly in the day or at night?

which media/cultural event was the most significant in your life personally? i'm not talking geopolitical disaster level i mean band break up or the supernatural finale or something

what was your most fun day On The Internet to date? like a notable event or an insane article dropped or whatever

what's your Weird Thing? like a specific bowl you like or a way you do something or a ridiculous food combination or insane sleep set up or something.

if you had to go on some kind of televised competition show what would you think you'd do best at - some kind of physical challenge, a general knowledge show, something where you had a specialist subject, a strategy game, a team game of some kind?

what is your favourite 'i feel like i'm in a film scene with a good soundtrack' situation?

what's 'your' thing people send you tiktoks/instagram posts/memes about because it reminds them of you?

if you had to design a 35 hour work week to suit you perfectly when would you work?

what is your favourite picnic food?

did you grow up in a Naked House or a Clothed House?

if you had gone off the radar and your friends/family were looking for you, where would they look first?

what (if any) is your favourite form of physical affection?

someone's just invited you to your worst nightmare social situation: describe it

someone's just invited you to your dream social situation: describe it

is there something you scroll past on social media that's guaranteed to make you cry every time you see it?

what's your funniest blocked word/tag on tumblr?

[maxtermind]

ARE F1 DRIVERS A PART OF NNN?

( texts masterlist \ main masterlist \ let’s talk )

★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ★ : genre :: V mature crack

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★ : a/n :: ignore the typos, comments, thoughts and reblogs are appreciated!

[forzalando]

“i heard santa needs an elf” has me CRYING

[glowcowboy]

btw if u have ever been nice to me even in passing and even in the most inconsequential ways, i think of it often and carry it in my heart. love is everywhere u look

[forzalando]

GUESS WHO JUST FINISHED GRAD SCHOOL WITH A PERFECT GPA OOOOOO BABY I FEEL SO ALIVE

i now have (some) free time, i just need inspiration to stay constant (manifesting)

[katsu28]

girl I’ve followed you for years now and I love that our hyperfixations have synced up again. Your fics are ADORABLE.

lando & 20, please 🤞🏻

babe i'm pretty sure you sent this before he won silvo and somehow ur prompt fit exactly into real life how did u know 🤯 and omg years?? that's crazy to think about thank u so much for sticking around <33

20. bandaging/stitching up an injury. lando norris x physio!reader, 2.6k. mentions of injury and blood but nothing too descriptive just lando's post race trophy mishap. request something from here!

“Streets are saying Andrea and Zak are taking the team out for dinner tonight.” 

You aim a knowing look at your friend and coworker, who looks far too happy to have just chatted with the bosses about dinner arrangements. “And by streets, you mean…?” 

“Okay, I heard it from Jon,” She says sheepishly, rolling her eyes at your suggestive wiggling eyebrows. “Shut up.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” You protest with a laugh, tucking a box of sterile gloves into its designated pocket of your med bag. “But if I were to say something, which I definitely won’t, I’d say you should really just ask him out, you know.” 

“I’ll ask him out when you ask Lando the same.” 

You pull the zipper of the bag shut a little too aggressively to pass off as nonchalant. “Don’t.” 

As unprofessional as it is, you’ve grown a little crush on the British driver in the time you’ve been with McLaren. How could you not have? 

Lando is kind and very down to earth, not to mention extremely talented at what he does. To say he’s charismatic is stretching it a bit, but his personality exudes comfort—the kind of comfort you’d felt even the first time you’d met him. Like the sun’s rays finally shining through the clouds after a rainy day. 

As part of the physiotherapy team, you’ve worked with him quite often, always on hand when he needs anything both at MTC and trackside during race weekends. He’s always been a little extra nice when you’re the one working on him, asks about your life away from work and actually listens when you talk. You just attribute it to his likeable nature, because if you let yourself think too deeply into the way he is around you, you’d never be able to get anything done. 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” 

You scowl. “Let’s not talk about this now. C’mon, we gotta load all the equipment into the trucks.” 

All of a sudden, a ruckus just outside the room gains both your focus. Someone’s shouting something about medical attention, which snaps you both to attention because, well, that’s your forte. The door swings open to reveal none other than the two people you’ve just been talking about. 

A worried looking Jon ushers Lando, who’s got both hands clutching at his upper face, into the small area. 

“Whoa, what happened?” You gasp, hurrying to pull out a chair for Lando to sit on. 

Jon rakes a hand back through his dark hair, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a grimace. “Incident with a photographer out in the pit lane. Would you mind checking him out?” You nod quickly, and he claps Lando on the shoulder. “Mate, you gotta show the doc.” 

When Lando just shakes his head no, the older man looks at you and your coworker helplessly. 

“Lando, she needs to take a look at your face. She can’t do that if you won’t show her,” He says slowly. Cautiously. Again, Lando shakes his head, this time more vigorously than the first. 

You lay a hand on his shoulder gently, crouching down to his eye level. “Hey, I gotta make sure you’re not hurt badly, yeah? If you’re in pain, I can help you, but only if you let me.” 

“Why don’t we give them some privacy?” Your coworker suggests, aiming her question towards Jon. It takes a few seconds, but he eventually gives in, tells Lando he’ll be right outside if he needs him, before heading for the exit. 

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving just the two of you. Lando hasn’t moved or said a word yet, and it’s starting to make you a little nervous.

“Lando, it’s me. Just me, no one else. Can you let me help you?” 

“It’s so embarrassing,” He groans finally, broad shoulders hunching in on themselves.

“You once came to me because you pulled your hamstring trying to do the full splits on a dare. I think we’re past embarrassing at this point, no?” 

“Don’t remind me about that, please,” Lando mutters, chin dropping towards his chest. You take the cap off his head and set it aside to get a better look, but he’s still got his hands over his face. “I was trying to get up on the fence to, y’know, say hi to some of the fans, show them the trophy. And then someone in front of me fell into me and the next thing I know the pointy bit on the top jabs me right in the face.”

He gestures a haphazard hand towards the golden trophy sitting on the counter, all sharp edges and protruding details that glint in the light. It’s beautiful, you think, but dangerous. 

Kind of like Lando. 

“Not your eye, right?” You press. It is very—no, extremely—important that he hasn’t been stabbed in the eye. 

“No, no, not the eye. My nose.” 

“You and injuring your nose seems to be a common theme, doesn’t it?” 

“Ha ha, very funny,” He deadpans, lifting his head to level you with an unimpressed stare through his fingers. You smile, and his shoulders lose a bit of their tension. The sign that he’ll let you touch him now is subtle, but you know him. 

“Let’s see what we’ve got here, shall we?” You hum, prying his hands away from his face gently. Upon first inspection, it looks pretty bad. A sizable looking gash sits right between his eyebrows, a rivulet of blood running down his nose, smeared onto his cheek from where he’d probably rubbed at it. 

In your experience, the sight of blood tends to make an injury look a lot worse than it actually is, and you suspect this is the case with Lando. 

“Is it bad?” He asks breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut. His chest rises and falls erratically, which tells you he’s nervous about the diagnosis. Or worried his handsome face will be scarred for life, you can’t tell. 

Even with blood streaking his golden skin and a face injury, Lando is still unfairly attractive. You don’t mean to stare at him outright like this, but you can’t help it. Long, thick lashes kiss his cheekbones, curls still damp with the sweet smelling tang of champagne hanging over his forehead artfully messy, pink lips pressed into a slight pout. 

You use your thumb to turn his head to one side, then the other, before stepping back and sighing loudly. If you spend any longer looking at him, you’d feel like a creep. “Terrible. We might have to cut the whole nose off.” 

“What?” He yelps. His eyes spring open, wide and disbelieving until he catches you giggling into the back of your hand. “Oh, you’re just taking the piss, aren’t you? That’s not funny!” 

“It’s a little funny.” Lando scowls weakly at your jest, and you roll your eyes playfully. “You’re gonna be fine, Lando, it’s not bad at all. I do have to clean it up, though.” 

“That’ll hurt like a bitch.” 

“Probably. But you’re a big boy, you can handle it.” You turn to grab the supplies you need to clean his face, completely missing the way he blushes. By the time you turn back, he’s got a little crooked smile on his face, like you amuse him. “What?” 

“Nothing. You just look happy.” 

“Happy that someone needs me? Yeah. If you boys didn’t get hurt, I’d be out of a job, wouldn’t I?” 

“I’d get hurt more often if it meant seeing you every time.” 

You falter, nearly fumbling the things gathered in your arms in surprise at his boldness. The roll of tape at the top of the pile topples over at the sudden stop, but Lando leans forward, snatching it out of the air before it falls even a foot. 

He holds it out to you like it’s a peace offering to what he’d just blurted out, cheeks already pink with sheepish embarrassment. 

You pluck it out of his open palm, setting it and the rest of the supplies onto the table beside him. “Thanks.” 

Lando likes seeing you. Lando wants to see you more often. Your brain doesn’t seem to comprehend that.

You give your head a little shake to refocus, busying yourself with organizing your materials nicely. “So how does it feel? To win your home race for the first time,” You ask, ripping open a packet of antiseptic wipes discreetly. 

You have the feeling you’ll need to distract him for this. 

“Absolutely fucking unreal, honestly. Like, it feels like I’m dreaming and I’ll wake up any second, and then realize it was all just in my head.” He’s grinning like a madman, still smiling like he’s replaying the whole thing in his mind as you nudge your way between his knees. “Is that crazy?” 

You smile warmly, shaking your head. “I don’t think so. You’ve been wanting this forever, and it’s finally happened.” You settle a gloved hand at the base of Lando’s jaw to keep him still, tilting his head up for a better angle. His lips part, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously before quirking up into the tiniest of satisfied smiles. “You should be proud.” 

“Yeah, I am, for sure. But I owe it all to—fuck, ow!” He bites out, grimacing at the sting of the antiseptic as you dab at the cut gingerly. A hand comes up to the curve of your hip, knuckles curling into the material of your team jacket on instinct. To ground himself from the sudden pain.

For a moment, you lose yourself in the mesmerizing constellation of his eyes, lured into losing focus by the swirl of colors and the weight of what lies within them. Your hands fall still on his face. The way he’s looking at you makes you want to kiss him, just to see what it would be like. 

Fuck. No, you can’t. You have to remain professional, because you’re coworkers, damn it. 

“Sorry,” You murmur. You try really hard not to think about how his hand doesn't move from your waist. Instead he holds on a little tighter, giving you an almost imperceptible tug closer. “This is gonna hurt some more.” 

“I don’t mind.” His voice is impossibly soft, a little breathless as he stares up at you unabashed. 

You dab at the cut and the surrounding area until there's no more blood, letting you see the wound a little more clearly. Clean edges, not too deep, definitely no need for stitches. Some tape to close it up and a plaster should do nicely. 

“Did you know you scrunch your nose when you focus?” He asks some time later, as you’re getting ready to fix him up. 

“What? No, I don’t,” You scoff. 

“Yeah, you do. It’s cute.” 

You feel your face flame hot. “Shut up.” 

“I’m serious!” He insists, grinning. He seems to rather enjoy the reaction he’s elicited from you. “Look, I know we work together, but I don’t think I’m imagining the way things are between us. So I’m just gonna come out and ask. D’you—I mean, would you maybe…I dunno, wanna grab dinner with me tonight?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you lay down the plaster right over his cut, fingers smoothing around the edges delicately. “We have the team dinner later.” 

The last thing you want to seem is too eager, but you wouldn't even dream of saying no. Not when he's looking at you all hopeful and nervous like this. 

Lando scratches his cheek, frowning. “Oh. Right. It’d be a bad look to skip out on that, wouldn’t it?”

“Reckon it would be, yeah,” You chuckle goodnaturedly. Three pieces of tape go on, right before he tilts his head to the side thoughtfully.

“Maybe tomorrow then? We’ve got the day off, we can do something together!” 

“You’ve got it off maybe, but I’ve got an exciting day of supply inventory at MTC.” 

“Sound riveting,” He snorts, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Alright, how ‘bout this? I can swing by in the afternoon, bring some food. We can sit out in that little garden in the east wing on your lunch break. Or I can pick you up after your day’s done and we can grab some dinner?” 

“Has anyone told you that you’re very persistent?” 

“Oh, all the time. But I do really like you, and today’s given me the courage to man up and finally ask you out, so…yeah, I’m persistent. Is that alright?” 

You try to fight the smile spreading across your face, but it’s no use. “Yeah, it is. ‘Cause I kinda like you too.” 

“Just kinda?” 

“Quit killing my mysterious vibe, Norris.”

“Mysterious! That’s hilarious, seriously.” 

“What? Why?” You’d be offended if it wasn't true. Now it just makes you giggle. 

“Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you’ve been staring at my lips this whole time. And might I add—” 

You lean forward, slotting your mouth against his before he can go on. It’s an impulsive spur of the moment kind of decision that stuns him into silence, short and sweet and effective. 

He looks utterly dumbfounded when you pull back. “I—you—that was…if that’s how you get me to shut up, I should start talking a lot more.” 

“Try it, see what happens.” 

“I could. Or I could just…” He trails off in favor of tugging you a step closer by the hand, leaning in slowly. 

Closer, closer, closer still, until—

“Mate, I heard you got smacked—” Oscar bursts through the door right before your lips touch, phone waving in hand. The sudden intrusion makes you both startle away from each other. You grab the remnants of your supplies to put back, Lando scratches the back of his neck in a poor attempt to look casual, and the Australian boy just stops, eyes flicking between the two of you in search of a connection. “Oh shit, sorry. I was—you guys were just—um, I can leave. Yeah, I’ll go.” 

“It’s fine, Oscar.” Although a little bummed the moment has been cut short, you smile as sincerely as you can manage. “We’re just about done here anyways.” 

“We are?” Lando asks, brows furrowing. He looks like he doesn’t want to go, but even you know he has to. 

You squeeze his hand. “Yeah, you’re all set.” 

“Thanks for patching him up, doc,” Oscar says, clapping Lando on the shoulder. “Dude, c’mon. We gotta get to the fan stage.” 

“But—” 

“We’re already late because of your detour, let’s go.” His tone leaves no room for discussion and Lando can see that, because he slouches and sighs. 

“Fine,” He huffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. His grumpy expression softens when he looks at you again. “See you later?” 

“I’ll be around.” He’s halfway out the door when you exclaim quickly, “Lando, wait!” 

Lando pokes his head back into the room quicker than lightning, looking hopeful. “Yeah?” 

“Don’t forget your trophy.” 

“Oh.” He shuffles towards you to grab it, ears turning red at just how excited he’d sounded as he hefts the giant thing into his arms. “Thanks.” 

You press a kiss to his cheek before he can get far, smiling fondly at him when you pull away. “See you tonight.” 

“And tomorrow?” 

“Yes, and tomorrow.” 

“Mint. Can't wait.”  

With a cheeky wink aimed at you, he’s gone, leaving you alone grinning like an idiot with your heart thrumming in your ears. 

You barely notice your coworker slip back into the room, but coincidentally, she’s also grinning. Though hers looks much more devious in nature. 

You roll your eyes. “Not a word out of you.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” She protests, but the wicked gleam in hers tells you she knows exactly what went down. 

“Good. There’s nothing to say.” 

“Of course.” She nods. “But if I were to say something, which I definitely won’t, it would be about fucking time.” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[forzalando]

OH MY GODDDDDD THIS IS SO CUTE I’M GOING TO COMBUST😭💛

[katsu28]

made to be here

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

prompts: squishing the other's cheek + stroking the other's arm soothingly + leaning into the other's side — requested here and here, from this list! (3.1k)

a/n: did anyone say super fluffy osc fic because boy do i have a treat for you 😇

“Come home with me.” 

Oscar’s proposition comes out of the blue. You’re curled up on his couch with a book in your hands and his head in your lap when he blurts it out, breaking the comfortable silence you’ve been sitting in for hours now. 

Honestly, you thought he’d fallen asleep ages ago at the feeling of your fingers stroking through his hair absentmindedly, but when you glance at him, he’s fully awake, looking up at you with his usual neutral expression. 

“What?” You chuckle. You fluff his hair one more time before he sits up. 

“I want you to come home with me for the summer holiday.” 

That gets you to set aside your book, carefully marking your page before tossing it off to the side. Oscar leans forward, hair falling back into that perfectly messy swoop you love so much, cheeks rosy with your shared warmth. This kind of relaxed comfort isn’t something you get to have very often with him with the F1 season upon you. 

“Come home with you,” You repeat slowly, like you’ve somehow misheard him even though he’s sitting right next to you. He nods. “Like…meet your family?” 

“Yeah,” He says, nodding. Like it isn’t a big deal. His tone makes it seem more like he’s suggesting what to have for dinner, not taking a big step in your relationship together. “It’ll be nice.” 

Something about Oscar you have yet to get used to is how casual he is about things. To you, this is a big thing, but to him? Well, you’re not really sure what he thinks. 

“Osc, I’d be meeting your family for the first time. This is a big deal.” 

He blinks, cocking his head to the side in thought. “Um, yeah I guess it could be, sure. But you’ve already met them before, over video chat.” 

“That is so not the same thing!” You whine, leaning forward until your cheek presses against Oscar’s thigh. His hand moves to your back immediately, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “Meeting them in person is something else entirely.”

“They’re gonna love you, you know that, right? I’m pretty sure they already do. My sisters keep asking me where you get your clothes from every time you post on Instagram.” 

You return to a sitting position, cocking your head at him. “And do you?” 

His nose wrinkles in confusion. “No? I just tell them I don’t know.” 

“God, you’re such a boy, Osc,” You scoff playfully, rolling your eyes. 

“Thank you? I’m taking that as a compliment even if it isn’t.” He shrugs, laying an arm across the top of the cushion behind you. He reaches out, gentle fingers stroking your arm soothingly. “So, what d’you say? Come home with me, meet my family?” 

You take in the sight of him, the tilt of his head and the softness in his smile and the happy crinkles he gets by his eyes whenever he’s happy. “Okay,” You agree. (Like you were ever going to say no to him in the first place.) “A summer holiday to Melbourne it is.”

-------

The handful of days before summer break fly by quicker than you can imagine. Now you're standing on the front step of Oscar’s childhood home, nervously clicking the button on the handle of your suitcase like it suddenly gained the ability to teleport you home. 

“I think I might throw up.” 

Oscar’s nose crinkles when he looks at you. “Gross. Are you being serious?” 

“Not really. I think. My stomach feels weird.” 

“You're nervous.” 

“No shit, genius.” 

An amused laugh snort escapes his mouth. “Oh, you really are nervous.” 

“I will smack you.” 

“I still don’t see what the big deal is,” He says, shrugging. Then you shoot him a pointed look and he holds his hands up in surrender. “But I know it is a big deal. And I will try my best to remember that.” 

The door swings open before he can knock, revealing none other than Oscar’s mum and dad. 

“You’re late!” His mum exclaims, though her fond expression tells you that she really doesn’t mind at all. In fact, she just looks beyond relieved that her son is home. His dad looks the same. 

“Hi, mum, dad,” He says softly, accepting the bone crushing hug she gives him. He doesn’t even say a word when she fusses over him, wonders if he’s eating enough and getting enough sleep, and then berates him for not calling her more often whilst he’s been away in the very same breath.

You can tell right away, he’s happy to be home. 

You stay back, wanting to let Oscar have this moment with his parents, but Nicole Piastri turns her gaze on you next. Part of you is a little intimidated, but then she breaks into a smile like a carbon copy of Oscar’s and any worries you have start to melt away. 

“Don’t be rude, Oscar, introduce us to this lovely young woman!” 

“I was getting there!” Oscar laughs, escaping his mum’s clutches to slide a hand around the small of your back, nudging you forward. “You guys remember my girlfriend.” 

Oscar’s mum says your name with such maternal warmth, you don't even recall why you were so nervous to meet his family in the first place. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s so nice to finally meet you face to face! Video quality doesn’t do justice to how gorgeous you are, my goodness.” 

“It’s really nice to meet you too, Mr. and Mrs. Piastri,” You say politely.

“There’s no need for that,” Oscar’s dad insists, waving away any formalities as you cross the threshold into their home. “Chris and Nicole is just fine.” 

“Oh, um, okay! Thank you for having me, by the way. I hope it’s okay I brought dessert, Oscar’s always raved about a bakery in town that has amazing pastries. I may have gone a little overboard and gotten a bunch of them for everyone to try,” You admit sheepishly, holding up the giant box. 

It’s true, Oscar had told you about the family owned bakery many times, the same place where his mum would buy anything for a special occasion. You’ve been wanting to try it, but you’d also chosen to get a little of everything to smooth out any awkwardness with his family if there was any. If they’re anything like Oscar, dessert is always the answer. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Oscar asks, peering around in search of his sisters. 

“All out with their friends, but they’ll be back soon for dinner. Your dad’s about to fire up the grill, we've got steaks and chicken—oh no, I forgot to ask if you had any dietary restrictions, hon.” 

“She doesn't,” Oscar chimes in before you can respond. His mum swats him on the arm. “What?” 

“She can answer for herself, Osc!” 

“But I was just—” At her pointed look, he snaps his mouth shut, looking at you with an expression that screams help me.

“He's right, I’ll eat anything,” You chuckle. 

“I can see why my son loves you so much! Y’know, he talks about you all the time. Whenever I can wrangle him for a call—which, let me tell you, is like pulling teeth—he always chats about you nonstop. His sisters tease him about it too, but they’ve always liked to poke fun at their big brother—” 

“Okay, alright, mum! Let’s not scare her off just yet, yeah?” Oscar says, absolutely red in the face with embarrassment. 

He hurries you upstairs before his mum can share any more stories, but you’ll be sure to get your fix of them in the mornings, when he’s busy snoring away. Where Oscar is an enjoyer of sleeping in, you thrive in the quietness of early morning. 

You barely have time to set your bag down at the foot of the bed before he’s tugging you into his room right across the corridor. Looking around the cozy room, you take in every bit of the version of Oscar you haven't had the chance to know. 

Trophies and medals and stacks of books sit neatly on shelves, posters of cars and pictures with jagged edges from being torn out of magazines plastered all over the walls, photos of friends and family tacked onto a cork board above a terribly cluttered desk. Even though it hasn't been occupied in a while, it still feels very lived in. 

You can almost picture little chubby cheeked Oscar reading vigorously through car books with a torch under the blankets at night when he was supposed to be asleep. 

A lone koala stuffed animal sits on the small bed tucked into the corner of the room, obviously well loved and facing the door like it had been waiting for Oscar’s arrival. 

“Oh. My. God.” You plop onto the bed with a bounce, gathering the soft toy into your arms with a giggle. Oscar scrubs a hand down his face, cheeks tinged pink. “It’s you!” 

“Just because I’m Australian doesn't mean every koala is me,” He sighs, rolling his eyes playfully. You make the koala’s paw wave, peering at Oscar with pouted lips. “And besides, his name is Turbo.” 

You laugh then, loud and clear and so full of joy it makes Oscar’s heart leap right out of his chest. 

You look like you belong here, sitting on his bed in his childhood room hugging his favorite stuffed animal. In another life, one where racing never came into the picture, you’d spend hours and days here together, sprawled out on the carpeted floor eating snacks and laughing until your stomachs hurt. 

In another life, you might’ve grown up knowing you loved each other your whole lives. 

But then again, if he never took up racing, he never would've gone to boarding school, never made his way to Formula 1. Never met you in the first place. So, he wouldn’t trade this life for anything. 

“Turbo! Of course his name is Turbo, you absolute nerd.” 

Oscar gives a little snort at your quip, taking a seat next to you. “I wasn't very original when I was nine.”

“Definitely not. Sure were a little cutie, though. Look at those cheeks! You’ve still got that baby face, you know.” 

“I do not.” He frowns, pressing his lips together. 

“You so do, don’t even try to deny it.” 

“I don’t see it.” He shrugs. You knock your knee against his. “I don’t!” 

“Fine, live your life in denial. I, for one, adore your baby face.” You squish his cheek between your fingers, grinning widely at him, and it makes him roll his eyes playfully. 

Just so he doesn't have to listen to you talk about it any more, he leans in to kiss you then. On instinct, you meet him halfway, eyes fluttering shut as his lips press against yours gently. 

For a second, you almost forget where you are. It isn’t until Oscar’s kisses start to stray towards your jaw that you remember. 

“Oscar!” You gasp quietly, splaying a palm over his chest. He rears back, brows pinching in confusion, eyes squinting. “Your mum and dad are right downstairs.” 

“Okay. And?” 

“So we can’t.” 

Oscar makes an indignant sound out the back of his throat, pushing in a little closer still. “They’re busy. It’s not like anyone’s gonna come upstairs, my sisters aren’t even home. Besides, I haven't kissed you in so long I’m starting to forget what it's like.” He grins boyishly, head lolling to the side. 

“I kissed you after we got off the plane.” 

“Yeah, but that was, like, an hour ago. Way too long.” 

“You’re feeling deprived?” You giggle, bumping your shoulder against his. 

“Very.” He nods. “Help a guy out?” 

“I guess I could.” 

“How gracious of you. C’mere.” Oscar slots his mouth against yours with a lazy smile, sliding a gentle palm around the back of your neck. 

He’s too big for this bed now, but he doesn't let it stop him from guiding you back down against the mattress, pushing himself onto his elbows without breaking the kiss. 

“Osc, d’you still have—oh shit!!!” 

Oscar shifts his body over yours in a flash, shielding you from view as if you aren’t still completely clothed. (Had it been a few minutes later, well, that you couldn’t say for sure.) 

“Edie!” He snaps. He doesn’t sound mad though, just firm. “Ever heard of knocking?” 

“Your door was open, you moron!” Edie exclaims. You can see her with her hand over her eyes through the gap between Oscar’s arm and chest. 

You’ve just been caught making out with your boyfriend on his childhood bed by his sister, and it’s absolutely mortifying. 

“Get out!” He says exasperatedly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Hi! It’s really nice to finally meet you!” Edie chirps, waving at you. You manage a feeble wave back, smiling as best you can given the circumstances. So much for a good first impression. “I love your top! Where’d you get it?”

Oscar groans, turning to shoot a glare her way. “Out!” 

“Ugh, okay! I’m going!” 

She does shut the door on her way out, something Oscar and yourself should’ve done the moment things started to get heated. Oscar drops himself by your side, wedging himself in between you and the wall with a groan. You roll over to face him, cheeks still burning hot. 

Truly, this might have been one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. 

“I’m never living that one down,” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You?” You whine, burying your face in your hands. “What about me? Edie will never look at me the same! She might be scarred for life.” 

“Trust me, she’s seen a lot worse before. She’ll be fine.” 

“I don’t think I even want to ask about that,” You huff. You wriggle out from under him, going over to the mirror in the corner to make sure you look as non-kissed as possible. Oscar pouts from behind you, having flipped onto his back to watch you straighten yourself out. “What? We’re going downstairs.” 

“Right now?” 

“Right now.” 

“But we were a little busy before Edie barged in,” He reasons, coming to stand behind you. An arm winds around your waist, chin nestling on your shoulder as he meets your gaze in the mirror. You level him with a pointed look, brow raised. “Point taken. You’re right, of course.” 

“Always am.” 

“Right again. Don’t know what I was thinking. Certainly not anything to do with you laid out on my bed like some sort of—” At the elbow you press warningly against his ribs, he clears his throat, cheeks flaming pink. “Uh…nevermind. Nothing.” 

“Thought so,” You hum, smiling. “Let’s go meet your sisters, shall we?” 

-------

Dinner goes swimmingly. 

Any worries or fears about Oscar’s family not liking you have disappeared the longer you get to know them, and by the time night falls, you feel comfortable with them. They don’t treat you like Oscar’s girlfriend that they’re just meeting for the first time, they treat you like one of their own. Like you’re part of the family already.

His sisters have no shortage of funny stories about him and they don't hesitate to tell you all of them, which you return with a whole slew of stories of your own. His parents, particularly his mum, join in eventually, and it makes you laugh so much your stomach hurts. 

Oscar sinks lower and lower into his seat with every story, cheeks growing pinker and pinker until he looks thoroughly embarrassed of the attention on him. He’s still got an arm draped over the back of your chair, fingers that smooth over your arm and shoulder soothingly (more for his own sake, than anything, really), occasionally pinching where he can when you bring up particularly embarrassing moments of his. 

As night falls, you all move to the backyard, where Oscar’s dad gets the firepit going as you all settle into the various comfy sofas surrounding it. They all insist on not letting you lift a finger to clean up dinner, which Oscar gets a rare free pass from as well, much to his delight. 

Finally alone again after hours of talk, Oscar tugs you down next to him with a loud exhale, slinging an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. 

“You seem like you’re having a little too much fun with them,” He notes. He looks thoroughly unimpressed, as he always does, but you swear you can see a smidge of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. You shrug nonchalantly. “I’m starting to think I should’ve kept all of you far, far away from each other.” 

“What? No! I like it here, Osc,” You giggle at last, leaning into his side. You fit perfectly under his arm as if you were made to slot in right there, cheek smushing against his chest, knees drawn up to yours as you smile innocently up at him like you’ve never done wrong in your entire life. 

“You mean you like ganging up on me.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Yeah, right. Sure,” He snorts. You press a kiss to the side of his neck to placate his huffing and puffing, another to the underside of his jaw, then his cheek, everywhere you can reach until he gets fed up with your teasing and plants his mouth on yours for a proper kiss. 

There isn’t much kissing that can be done before Oscar’s family comes back outside, but you’ll take what you can get from him at this moment. When you pull back, he looks pleasantly dazed, a little unfocused in the eyes to go hand in hand with his almost noticeable kiss-swollen lips.

“I really like your family, Osc,” You whisper, stroking a thumb under his eye tenderly. All Oscar can do is blush the same color as your lipgloss smudged on his mouth and nod. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“I think my mum would’ve strangled me if I didn’t bring you round to meet everyone soon. The texts she’s been sending have been oddly cryptic,” He says solemnly, looking entirely serious. You burst into a bout of giggles so infectious Oscar can’t help but start to chuckle himself, until you’re both laughing uncontrollably with no real reason why. “Y’know, I think we need to call it a night.” 

“Why? You still think there’s a chance of starting where we left off earlier?” You tease. Oscar shrugs, head cocked to the side like the thought had crossed his mind, and you scoff, elbowing him lightly. “In your dreams, babe.” 

“I was actually talking about beating jet lag, but hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

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[forzalando]

this is so freaking cute, i'm going to cry!!!!

[forzalando]

i hate to disappoint everyone currently following me for f1 content but i wrote for the first time in a long time yesterday and it was all david corenswet!superman😀

fics (hopefully) landing soon!

[forzalando]

just checking in to let everyone know that i am alive😀

[forzalando]

still alive guys but unfortunately life is still kicking me in the shins, lungs, and kidneys repeatedly LOL i miss you all. i am keeping up with f1 and oh boy is this one a wild ride!!!!

if any moots see this: love you, thinking of you, wishing you well🫶🏼

[pucksandpower]

After 239 entered races.

After 15 seasons.

After close call after close call.

Nico Hülkenberg has finally done it.

The curse is broken.

Nico Hülkenberg is a Formula 1 podium finisher.

[forzalando]

just checking in to let everyone know that i am alive😀