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Surfboards, Seashells, and CPR

(landoscar, non-driver!au, surfer!oscar, falling in love, 7k)

The first time Oscar waves at Lando, walking down the beach with his surfboard in hand, Lando nearly drops the hot dog he’s handing to a customer.

Lando apologizes profusely to the middle aged woman and glances back in time to see Oscar chuckling at him, mirth visible from across the beach. Lando scrunches up his lips and waves back, feeling the embarrassment written across his face.

But he’s awarded a quiet win when he watches Oscar tumble off his surfboard minutes later. Oscar pops up from the water and looks around in the universal ‘did anyone see that?’ motion, realizing Lando did in fact see that. He rubs the back of his neck and gives a lame thumbs-up.

Lando just smiles and tries to focus on his job.

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happy one year to my first fic! 🥳 thunderstruck you will always be special to me <3

time isn’t real and i promise i Will be back with more writing hopefully in the near future!

Thunderstruck

(landoscar, fluff, falling in love, 8k)

hello all, this is my first f1 fic (and my first fic in general that i’ve written in almost a decade)!

It was a work of love and yes I know 8k is short but don’t worry I packed A LOT in there. I’d love if you could go read and let me know what you think :)

Landoscar community, y’all have inspired me to create for the first time in a long time. please enjoy my tiny little contribution to our cause 🫶🫡

tagging those who requested i give them a shout when it’s done 💅🏼✨

@eisenberg @wanderingblindly

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Happy Osctober! 🎃

Thank you @pumpkennpie for putting together this lovely event <3 I have one measly contribution to make, so hopefully yall like it! It’s for Day 5, Teacher AU!

Also I don’t have the brain capacity to figure out ao3 rn so the drabble will just remain here for the time being :)

It starts, as most things do, with budget cuts.

Problems with too many enrolled students, not enough seats in rooms that already feel claustrophobic, teachers that have to start working during preps for pennies on the dollar.

This is how Oscar finds himself trying to teach English Lit in a shabby closet space that shares a room divider with the art room.

It’s not like he really cares all that much about the room itself, after all he’s here for the students, not this shitty school building. Through the divider Oscar listens for the sound of pottery wheels whirring away, and an excitable voice guiding the ceramic process.

“Mr. Piastri?” Stephanie pipes up from her makeshift desk that she shares with Thomas.

Oscar clears his throat and pulls his eyes away from the loud noises from behind the divider.

“Yes, sorry, Stephanie. What’s the problem?” Oscar pushes himself off of his own desk.

“Did you want me to keep reading the passage?” Stephanie squeaks out.

Shit, Oscar was supposed to be paying attention to the passage to make sure his comprehension questions were presented at each checkpoint. Whoops.

Oscar smiles and scrubs a hand through the bit of hair that never seems to stay off his forehead no matter how much gel he uses. “Um. No, that’s fine. What did we learn about the character in this paragraph?”

Oscar tries to push thoughts of boisterous laughter and golden skin, marred with clay and paint from his head.

He fails miserably. He’ll have to go over these comprehension questions again next week for sure.

—

“Osc?”

Oscar peeks up from his corner of the room, placing his pen down on the mound of ungraded quizzes in front of him.

He knows who’s looking for him. Only one person in this school calls him something other than Mr. Piastri or Oscar.

“Seems you guys got a bit out of hand today it sounded like.” Oscar says with a small smirk.

The man emerges fully from behind the room divider, sheepishly rubbing at his neck. There’s glaze on his left elbow.

“Yeah, well. My foot slipped on the wheel while I was pulling the form up and it sent some clay straight to the ceiling.”

Oscar snorts, “Is that why one of my students was staring at the ceiling for the rest of the period?”

Lando wanders over to his desk, skimming his fingers along the edge of it. “Could be. Or maybe they just found it more interesting than whatever you were teaching.”

Oscar feels a warm feeling settle in the pit of his stomach and a smile worm its way out. “Oh yeah? Well at least I had a lesson plan for today.”

Oscar leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He knows that action makes his button down flex around his arms just the slightest bit.

Lando slides himself along the desk, fingers exploring the mismatched pencils and pens in Oscar’s Okayest Teacher Ever mug. A flush is starting to crawl up from underneath his henley, Oscar notes.

Lando flicks his eyes from his ministrations with the pens to Oscar’s face.

“Better be careful leaning back in that chair Mr. Piastri, I watched a substitute topple it backwards last week.”

Oscar hums in acknowledgment and promptly pulls himself up from the chair in one fluid motion. Lando doesn’t even have time to react before Oscar is crowding his space against the desk, running his thumbs over Lando’s hipbones in an instant.

Then Oscar is all hot breath against Lando’s ear whispering quickly, “I wonder why there was even a substitute here in the first place, hm?”

Lando shivers and bites down on a whimper. His hands come up around Oscar’s neck instinctively.

“Y’know, I can’t quite remember. I think it might’ve had something to do with the normal teacher being fucked into next week.” Lando mumbles.

Oscar pulls back the slightest bit and notices the shit-eating grin plastered on Lando’s face.

In response he grips Lando’s hips and pulls him flush against his body.

Lando gasps at the sudden contact, shivering in Oscar’s hold.

“Could have had something to do with it. I heard he just had a stomach bug though.” Oscar says in a low tone into Lando’s neck.

Lando ghosts his hand up into Oscar’s gelled hair, immediately crunching the locks in between his fingers.

“Well at least the substitute didn’t have this awful gelled hairdo.” Lando mouths into Oscar’s neck, peppering it with small kisses annunciating each word.

Oscar breathes out through his nose, hard, and squeezes Lando’s hips.

Lando thinks he may have won this battle until Oscar is hoisting him up onto the desk and pressing the heels of his hands into the round of his ass.

Lando lets out the tiniest little gasp as Oscar grunts out, “Well I know how much you enjoy fucking it up. Now say, thank you Oscar.”

Lando pushes both hands into Oscar’s hair and grips, feeling the gel break apart in his palms.

Oscar continues, “That is, unless you’re thinking of replacing me with the clumsy substitute?”

Lando is trying to roll his hips forward from his perch on the desk, but his stupid apron is getting in the way. Frustrated, he breathes out, “Never, baby.”

Oscar groans at the pet name that rarely leaves Lando’s lips unless he’s really bothered and pulls him so close it’s getting harder to tell where he stops and Lando begins.

Oscar pulls his head back and launches an attack on Lando’s mouth. Lando gasps into it and returns with the same fervor.

The sound of a key in the door of their shared room breaks the reverie and Oscar is falling backwards into his rolly chair while Lando is shooting up off the desk.

And it would have been fine, really. It was just Jon, the school’s custodian, coming to sweep under the desks.

Nothing would have seemed out of the ordinary for two teachers to be chatting in a classroom after hours.

But in Oscar’s haste to resume his rolly chair position, he seemed to have miscalculated the necessary energy for the task, and all he hears is Lando squawking as he hits the floor.

So much for being better than the clumsy substitute after all.

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light of a clear blue morning + lando norris

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happy belated one year anniversary to my first real tumblr post! if only i had the time to actually spend my time frolicking around on this app like i used to 🥲🥲

look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t what charles would find in max’s kitchen

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ive just read Don’t Worry Baby, stoned at 12am. I no longer know how to function as a normal member of society so thank you i guess pookums 🙁

first of all, so sorry pookie i hope u have recovered

second of all, this is exactly how i felt while writing it so now we are spiritually connected over this burden

third(?) of all, i’m back from the dead to smooch every one of my mutuals on the lips and then descend back into the madness of starting a new job <3

sending deep love to u all

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celebratory snip, as promised, for having written 2k words today.

It’s nice and all, catching up like this, but it’s also overwhelming. Lando recognises everyone, which is great, but while George is very much George, and Alex is Alex, and Charles is Charles and Max is undoubtedly Max—everyone looks, feels. Different. 

Older. Tired lines and ragged smiles and softer voices that Lando just doesn’t recognise, not in the sense of the word, and it’s a lot to take. It’s a lot worse to take—because the familiar is now uncanny, and the unfamiliar painfully mundane. Lando has lost two years of his life. The reality of it is marked in their demeanour. The fleeted years, elapsed on everyone’s face like a selfish and vengeful spell cast especially for Lando, taunting him to ask, do you still know them? And worse: what about you?

The door swings closed behind him. There’s a narrow corridor into the main area of the restroom. The lights flicker as he makes his way down to the stalls.

He’s not alone. There’s another bloke standing at the sinks. 

The top of his cheeks are red. He looks dreadful, really, if not also unremarkable, and he’s sniffling—wiping his face with the back of his hand.

He doesn’t notice Lando when Lando walks past him and goes into a stall.

He pushes his back against the door and takes a deep breath, stays still, staring down at the squalid toilet seat in front of him. Listens as the other bloke turns the tap on, then off. Listens to another sniffle, the crackling of cheap paper towel, a lingering silence, before footsteps start and fade down the hall, the door swinging open with a soft creak back and forth and back and forth until it regains inertia and everything is quiet and claustrophobic and unfamiliar that Lando can’t help the tear that breaks down his cheek.

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gonna go far

🍊 an oscarmark fic ❗so, the mentor/mentee dynamic... in this essay i will– 🖋️ 1.7k words, rated T/M 🔗 read on ao3

preview

Mark pulls the door shut. The light is always bright in here, harsher. Oscar’s teammate seems to like the dimmer, but Oscar barely adjusts anything. The driver in question sits on the floor, with his back against the rectangular sofa. Elbows on his knees, hands wrapped around his third place trophy, copper against the orange of the race suit still tied at his waist. Oscar’s face is downturned, obscured by a team cap. Mark cannot see his eyes.

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In belated honor of Charles’ monaco victory since this edit wouldn’t leave my mind until it was done

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got my summer fest fic past the dreaded 5k mark (aka the word count where wips go to die) so!!! celebratory snippet

“All right everybody, rise and shine!” George’s voice blares through the Airbnb, and as Lando startles awake, sitting up straight in bed, he vows to give a tenner to the first person to chuck George’s megaphone in the pool.

George is still hollering away, but Lando pays him no mind, instead taking stock of the situation. Unfortunately, him breaking his ankle on the first day of their trip was not a dream, although the pain is at a pretty manageable level, thanks to the paracetamol Oscar gave him. Speaking of Oscar, as he glances next to him he has to conclude that Logan giving up his spot in the downstairs bedroom making Lanod share with Oscar wasn’t a dream either.

Oscar seems asleep still, his hair a wild mess and his face mostly buried into his pillow, turned away from Lando. Lando gently pokes him in the shoulder. “Oscar? I think Geroge wants us to get up.”

“Grfhmfng,” Oscar says, mostly into his pillow.

“I agree with you, but unfortunately I think if you don’t get up George will come in here and chuck you straight in the pool,” Lando says, poking a little more incessantly.

At this, Oscar looks up at least. He has tiny bleary eyes and a horrible case of bedhead. “Why,” he says, miserably, voice rough and scratchy from sleep.

“I think this one is on us, really. For giving him the power to organize the trip. I’m starting to think not having to book my own flight wasn’t really worth it being woken up with a megaphone at,” he checks his phone. “Seven in the morning.”

Oscar lets out a pitiful groaning sound, and promptly buries his face back into his pillow.

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Austrian GP - 30 June 2024 (edited)

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logan sargeant & williams: trust

background art: el perro (the dog) by fransisco de goya // putting the dog to sleep - the antlers // formula 1 article // planetf1 article // formula 1 article // grandprixnews article // motorsport article // putting the dog to sleep - the antlers

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you love me (but you don't know it yet) (lando/oscar, 34,5k, t rated)

When they get to the McLaren motorhome, his PR rep is already waiting for him in the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “We would’ve preferred if you’d told us about your boyfriend beforehand, Lando,” she says, as they make their way inside, glancing at Oscar following behind them. “We could’ve had some contingency plans in place.” “Well, I would have told you,” Lando says, “I just didn’t know he existed until like 20 minutes ago.”

READ HERE

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god this is just embarrassing for them at this point

lando DOWN BOY he is NOT edible

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