#osctober 2024

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day one

prompt: home race pairing: lando/oscar word count: 1,5k

It starts, just like the Formula One season, in Australia.

“Love Albert Park,” Lando says, when they’re finally alone in their hotel room after a long grueling day of press. The jetlag didn’t help, and Oscar’s been fighting all day just to stay awake. Lando hasn’t been fairing much better, Oscar having to shake him out of multiple naps. One day he will get used to Lando being able to sleep practically anywhere. For now, he will continue to stay amazed.

“Hm,” Oscar says, upside down in his suitcase. They’re free for the evening, and he’s planning on changing into his sweatpants and a hoodie and crawling onto their giant king sized bed and watching movies until they fall asleep. Which will probably be ten minutes into the first movie.

“Like, the atmosphere is so good, right?” Lando says. He’s already on the bed, nicked one of Oscar’s hoodies. One of his favorites, too. Oscar settles for a mediocre McLaren branded one and crawls onto the bed too. Tomorrow they have a dinner planned with his parents, which he’s looking forward to. They haven’t been over to see them for a while, and he’s excited to catch up.

“Hm,” Oscar says again, grabbing the remote. Lando is immediately on him, snuggling into his side before he can even get properly settled. Oscar lets it happen, smiles fondly as Lando lets out a happy little noise and presses a kiss to Oscar’s shoulder.

“Good track too. Fun. Must be great to be able to call it your home race, right?” Lando continues, as Oscar pulls up the Netflix menu. They’ve been slowly been making their way through any and all sports documentaries on there, and they’ve now got to one about cheerleading.

“I guess,” Oscar says, as he queue’s up the next episode. Lando is warm against his side, his breath fanning out over Oscar’s neck, and Oscar wishes sometimes he could have this forever. He thinks that might be nice.

Lando is fidgeting, like he’s gearing up to say something. On the TV, a dance-y pop song plays as the cheerleaders practice a truly impressive choreography. Oscar lets the song wash over him, closes his eyes as he waits for Lando to say something.

“Would love to call it my home race, too,” Lando eventually says, staring up at Oscar with big, nervous eyes.

Oscar doesn’t reply. He’s dead asleep.

--

They’re in China, a week later. Lunch in the McLaren Motorhome, a little table tucked away from the rest. Australia was fun, the car looks good. Podiums for both of them. Oscar had looked out on the crowd, Lando next to him, his parents down there smiling proudly up at him and he’d felt. Complete.

“So like, 1/16th,” Lando says, between bites of his chicken wrap.

Oscar takes a bite of his own chicken warp, gave up on his toast with salmon ages ago. Though he doesn’t think Lando would have broken up with him over it, if he had to pick between Lando and salmon he would pick Lando any day. “1/16th of what,” he says, when he’s done chewing.

“Your home race,” Lando says, gesturing around. “Because you’re 1/16th Chinese.”

“Right,” Oscar says, waiting for the question.

“Let’s say,” Lando says, having put his wrap down and picking at a piece of lettuce. “You had like. If you got. You’re married.”

“I am?” Oscar asks, eyebrow raised.

“Hypothetically,” Lando corrects, turning ever so slightly red. The piece of lettuce is now in two. “Hypothetically you’re married. Would that make this your spouse’s home race too?”

“Depends,” Oscar says. “Is my spouse Chinese? Are they a race driver?”

“No,” Lando says. Four pieces of lettuce. “And yes.”

“Then no,” Oscar says, takes another thoughtful bite. “But our kids could call it their home race. If they went into racing.”

Lando makes a strangled noise, drops the pieces of lettuce, and then spends the rest of the lunch sort of staring into space, confusing mix of expressions on his face. Oscar doesn’t really question it. He’s found that’s the best way of going about dating Lando Norris.

Lando never asked, but if he had, Oscar would’ve told him that if he could have hypothetically married anyone, he probably would have married Lando. Hypothetically of course.

--

“Monaco,” Lando says, entering the paddock side by side with Oscar. “Home race for you, huh?”

The joke is old by now, old enough that it doesn’t get more than a yearly reference and a half laugh out of Oscar. It surprises him Lando would even bring it up. “I mean I have been living here long enough,” he says. First in his own apartment. Now in the apartment he shares with Lando. He knows which one he prefers.

“You know what I mean,” Lando says, pauses, seems to consider something. “Do you reckon it could be. You know. Mine too?” He asks.

Oscar hoists his backpack higher up onto his shoulder. It’s heavy, carrying both his and Lando’s stuff. “I don’t know,” he says. “Should ask Charles.”

Lando deflates, shoulders sagging. His backpack free shoulders. Oscar could ask him, to carry the backpack. Lando would say yes, wouldn’t mind at all.

He doesn’t.

--

There’s a ring. It’s been in his luggage since China, since Lando planted the seed of marriage in his head. He picked it out himself, thinks Lando would like it. It’s simple, plain, but thick. Noticeable. He knows Lando would appreciate that sort of thing.

He’s been brainstorming the perfect moment. Maybe after a win. Maybe after a home race win. But then, does he want to make their proposal about F1? He’s been thinking about the summer break, the trip to Greece they have planned. Thinks about winter break, the trip to Australia. He could do it in front of his family, have them all there. But then what about the Norris’s? They would be just as delighted to be there.

So yeah. Ruminating. He’s starting to hope the right moment will just smack him in the face.

Which it does, sort of, right after FP2 in Silverstone. They’re in the car, on their way back from the track, tucked away in the backseat, Oscar typing away on his phone while Lando. Fidgets.

“So,” Lando says. “Home race.”

“Home race,” Oscar agrees.

“I mean it isn’t. Your home race,” Lando says. “Not. Well. Not yet?”

Oscar pulls a face. “I mean, kind of is, isn’t it? Team home race and all? I’ll take it.”

He expects a half laugh, a shoulder nudge, a Lando slumping into his side. What he gets instead is a strangled cry and his phone ripped from his hands. When he comes face to face with Lando, he looks furious.

“Alright, what will it take for you to get the hint,” Lando says, and Oscar’s clearly upset him, he just wishes he knew about what.

“What hint,” he says, slowly, not wanting to agitate Lando any further.

It’s the wrong thing to say anyway. Lando slumps back into the car seat, throws the phone back to Oscar. “Nothing, it’s. It’s stupid, I guess.”

Oscar watches him. Thinks back on the conversation they just had. “Wait,” he says, and Lando perks up. Hopeful. “What do you mean not yet? You said it isn’t my home race yet. What do you mean?”

Lando looks at him. “What do you think I mean?” He says, only a little sulkily.

Oscar considers it. Thinks, all of a sudden, of China, of Monaco, when Lando had brought up the home race thing too. Thinks of Australia, of the question he never asked. Thinks of the ring, hidden away in his luggage in the hotel room.

“Yes,” he blurts out.

“What?” Lando says.

“Yes,” Oscar says again, more sure this time. “Yes, I want your home races to be my home races and my home races to be yours.” And then, to answer the question Lando has really been asking this entire time, “Yes, I will marry you.”

“Oh,” Lando says, and it’s his turn to look a little thrown. “Really?”

“I have, there’s a ring,” Oscar says. “If you want me to prove it. It’s been there since China, I’ve just been looking for the right moment, but I think. I think this is it. The right moment, I mean.”

Lando scrunches up his nose. “This is a horrible moment,” he says.

And he’s right. They’re both tired from a long day of practice, ready to pass out from exhaustion. They’re in a car, an impersonal company provided non-descript one, on their way to their equally impersonal company provided non-descript hotel room, in the middle of a race weekend. They have to go to bed early, because they have more responsibilities again tomorrow. Arguably, this might be the worst moment for a proposal.

But Lando is looking soft and sleepy and hopeful and Oscar wants to spend the rest of his life with him and the rest of his life can’t begin soon enough, so he means it with all his heart when he says, “Lando Norris, will you do the honor of letting my home race become your home race?’

And Lando, Lando smiles, soft and happy and everything Oscar loves says, “I would love nothing more.”

[pumpkennpie]

Lights Out on Osctober!

The day has come! It's officially Osctober!!

Here is your Week One starting grid:

Reminder to use the tumblr tag #Osctober 2024

Here is the link to the AO3 collection!

Let's hype each other up! Have fun, and happy creating!

[dellephone]

home race + choscar

“Hey,” Charles glances to his left to find Oscar, a crooked smile while he meets his eyes.

“Hey,” Charles smiles back, allows himself a moment before he turns forward again. Notices how Oscar’s falls into his pace.

“So. Does this mean I get to call you ‘Dad’ now?” He can feel Oscar’s gaze on the side of his face, strong enough for him to glance back over, too strong for him to keep contact. Charles can’t help his smile, a small laugh leaving his lips.

“Well, I don’t suppose you would want to call me ‘Daddy.’” He’s joking, obviously, pushing the joke back to Oscar and hoping to distract from his warming face. He just doesn’t expect the way red spreads across Oscar’s cheeks, although his expression still doesn’t stutter.

Oscar’s eyebrows raise, and he knows he’s made a mistake from the look he directs toward Charles. “Would you like me to?”

And something about the way he asks, his eyes sparkling mischievously, makes Charles miss a step. He wonders briefly if it’s something he learned from his teammate.

Charles steadies himself, leans in conspiratorially, says, “I’m not sure we’re close enough for that yet, Oscar.” Oscar slows down, lets Charles walk away. He doesn’t look behind him as Oscar falls out of step with him— counts it as a win.

Oscar trips over that ‘yet.’ Wonders what he meant by it. If he meant anything by it. He thinks about the way Charles joked with him, the way he might consider it flirting if it was someone else. It feels like a win.

[jaecantwrite]

bring it home

Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri, 6,165 words, Rated T

"The Australian Grand Prix 2025: The opening race of the season and the home of Lando Norris' beloved boyfriend, What's the worst that could happen?"

Super excited to kick off Osctober today! Six more fics to come for this, so I hope I set the tone pretty well! I hope you enjoy :)

[racesunday]

Here's my (a day late) post for osctober 2024: a wallpaper. I think I like the colour scheme, and the lyrics to champagne coast (by blood orange) felt like it'd fit for his home race in 2023 idk why ahaha (the only reason is cause he finished eighth 🧍)-

Also here's another version that I like less than the first one.

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day two

prompt: curse pairing: charles/oscar word count: 1,2k

“What do you mean ‘I turned Lando into a bat’,” George says, slightly incredulous.

They’re in a meeting room right next to the FIA press conference room, a tiny little thing with a table and a few chairs and not much else, offering mostly exactly what they need right now. Privacy.

“I didn’t…” Oscar starts, sights, runs a hand through his hair. On the table, a tiny little bat – Lando – putters around. Oscar’s been carrying him around in the front pocket of his hoodie for most of the morning and it’s clear he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of his little bat feet yet. “It’s a curse.”

“A curse,” Alex repeats, voice flat.

“You cursed your teammate?” George asks, voice becoming slightly more incredulous.

Oscar rubs at his eyes. None of this is going in any way smoothly. But he guesses that’s what he gets for, well. Cursing his teammate. “It was an accident.”

George opens his mouth again, but Charles cuts him off. “Magic can be tricky like that,” he says, crouching down to hand Lando the bat a crumb of the protein bar he’d been eating. “Athur once turned one of his mechanics into a frog.”

Oscar had been there for that. The whole thing had been chaos but it had been resolved very quickly when the curse seemed to have a run time of merely 20 minutes and the frog turned back into a mechanic. A very disgruntled mechanic demanding a raise, but a mechanic nonetheless.

This curse, unfortunately, is not that simple.

“Okay so, now what? What’s the solution here?” George asks, eyeing Lando the bat a little wearily as he happily munches on his protein bar crumb.

Alex leans close to the table, examines Lando, who chirps happily and tries to toddle over but faceplants in the process. “True love’s kiss?” Alex asks.

“Yeah,” Oscar says. “Or well. Sort of.”

George sucks in a breath through his teeth. “That’s a tricky one. I mean, who do you ask?”

“Carlos,” Charles and Oscar say at the exact same time.

“But I tried that and it didn’t work,” Oscar says.

“So not true love’s kiss?” George asks.

“No, definitely true love’s kiss,” Oscar says, wishing he was anywhere but here right now.

“Wait a minute, you made Carlos kiss a bat? For nothing?” Alex asks, sounding way too delighted about this. Oscar suddenly remembers him and Carlos will be teammates next year. He pulls a face and vows to apologize for sharing this information with Alex. Then he remembers it’s Carlos and vows to not instead.

“Ah, and so this is why you came to us,” George says, puffing out his chest. “To help you find Lando’s actual true love.”

“I didn’t come to you,” Oscar says. “You followed me in here. And I already told you who Lando’s true love is.”

“You asked me here,” Charles says.

“Wait so why is Charles here and not… Oh,” Alex says, and his face does. A thing.

Oscar wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“Yeah,” Oscar says.

“What-“ Charles starts, but then his eyes widen.

George frowns. “Why do I feel like you all know what’s going on aside from me.”

“Because we all know what’s going on aside from you,” Alex says, and then, to ram the final nail home in Oscar’s coffin. “Lando’s not the one who’s supposed to kiss his true love. Oscar is.”

“Ooooh,” George says. “Wait. So why are we here?”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Oscar says, through clenched teeth. Charles is still staring at him, but he’s not. There’s no anger or anything. Just. Wonder, maybe. Fascination. It’s. Well. It could be worse.

George opens his mouth again. Makes it worse. “But you asked- Oh. Oh, you think Charles,” he gestures between them. “You think Charles is your true love?” He says it in a certain way. In a ‘everyone thinks Charles is their true love but no one actually believes it, kind of way’.

Oscar shrugs, trying to aim for casual, but his shoulders are tense and his mouth is tight. “It’s. He might be,” he says, purposefully not looking at Charles. Not wanting to see the rejection in his eyes.

“Yeah, but-“ George says, but Alex, mercifully, saves him, by pushing George out of the room with a, “You know what, you two test out that theory and we’ll catch you back later, bye!”

The door closes, cutting off George’s protesting and leaving Oscar and Charles blissfully alone.

Well, Oscar, Charles, and Lando, who has taken to trying to fly. He only makes it a few centimeters of the table each time before crashing down again.

“So,” Charles says.

“I know,” Oscar says, scrubbing a hand down his face. God, this whole day has been so fucking embarrassing. From letting his magic slip enough that he turned his teammate into a bat, to forcing Carlos Sainz to kiss said bat only for nothing to happen, to having his crush revealed to his crush in the most humiliating way possible. “I know there’s a chance you’re not- I mean, there’s probably now way you-“ He can’t even find himself to say it. It hurts. He knows there’s no way Charles is his true love. But like. He has to try, right? For Lando.

“We’ll never know until we try,” Charles says, and when Oscar looks up, he’s smiling softly, looking way too chill about the entire thing.

“I.. Are you sure?” Oscar asks. It feels. Too easy maybe.

“Come here,” Charles says instead, beckoning Oscar forward. Oscar goes, willingly, until they’re face to face, only centimeters apart. Charles is still smiling softly, and he carefully reaches up to put his hand on Oscar’s cheek. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes out, not entirely sure this is a thing that’s actually really happening. Maybe he cursed himself, too. Sleeping Beauty style. Maybe this is all just a weird dream he’s having.

“Good,” Charles says, and then leans forward and presses his lips, ever so gently, against Oscar’s.

At first, nothing happens. Nothing but the thudding of Oscar’s heart in his chest, the sweatiness of his palms, the hypnotizing feeling of Charles’s lips pressed against his.

Then, everything happens all at once. There’s a loud bang and Lando the bat, who had only just successfully managed to fly roughly a meter above the table, turns back into Lando the human, and comes crashing down onto the table with such a force that it actually breaks in half, sending Lando and the table tumbling to the floor. Charles and Oscar spring apar to opposite ends of the room as the door flings back open, Alex and George spill back inside, having clearly listened in on everything happening, and they’re followed by even more staff and drivers that were alerted by the noise.

Oscar watches it happen a little wearily, watches as Alex fishes Lando out of the pieces of table, totally in tact and chattering loudly about his adventures as a bat, seemingly not hard feelings. Watches as people set about clearing up the bits of broken table, seeing what they can salvage.

Watches, as Charles’s eyes meet his, over all of the ruckus.

And suddenly, everything slows, and it’s just Charles, and his bright sparkling eyes, and his soft smile and Oscar takes a deep breath and thinks True Love.

[pumpkennpie]

Osctober 2024

Hello everyone! There's a new event in town- welcome to Osctober!

Let's go over the basics!

What is Osctober?

Osctober is an event made by creators for creators. We've come up with 31 individual prompts, one for each day in October.

Who can participate?

Everyone! Writers, artists, gif-makers- do you make F1/Oscar related content? Then you're invited!

How do I participate?

Create something for the prompt of the day (or any other day) and post it! We are using the tumblr tag #Osctober 2024, and there is a collection on AO3 called 'Osctober 2024'. Post your work in either or both!

There is no sign up, so no obligations!

Do I have to do every prompt/day?

Nope! See one that suits your fancy? Do it up! Create as much or as little as you want!

What if I miss a day?

Feel free to go back to any prompt you've skipped! We'd like to keep the posts in line with the prompt of the day, so try not to post early, but going back is fine!

Are there any rules?

Barely. All we ask is that your work contains Oscar in some form. Feel free to write any pairing, gen fics, anything that focuses on Oscar!

Be respectful and support and uplift your fellow creators. Have fun, and celebrate a fun month of content!

I will post a reminder on the 1st of October, and once a week after that.

If anyone has any questions, don't hesitate to drop me an ask or send me a message!

[dellephone]

curse + choscar

Oscar thumps his head against the wall. “I think I’m cursed.”

He sounds genuinely distraught. Lando looks at him, notes the closed eyes and pained expression. He works very hard to keep the laughter out of his voice. He isn’t sure he succeeds. “You’re not cursed.”

Oscar opens his eyes, and Lando hurries to straighten his expression. He meets Landos eyes and very seriously repeats, “I’m cursed.” He pauses a moment for Lando to respond. When he stays silent, Oscar continues, “He adopted me.”

Lando sighs, settles down next to him. “Look, maybe that’s how he flirts. You know,” he gestures with his hand, “using it as an excuse to get to know you.”

Oscar eyes him wearily, “How do you know.” The moody tilt to his voice is almost enough for Lando to break. He takes a breath to keep the laughter down.

“I don’t.” He cuts off Oscar’s unhappy hum, “But. You can be kind of, you know.” Oscar looks at him, waiting for him to continue. “Maybe he’s trying to feel you out. You can be— hard to gauge.”

“Hard to gauge.” Oscar parrots back, unimpressed. But his gaze slides off of Lando, which he takes to mean that Oscar is thinking. He waits a moment. “Okay. Maybe. At least—” he pauses, “he’ll get to know me this way.”

Oscar doesn’t seem happy exactly, but he’s thinking. So back to normal— or close to it. Which is good for Lando, since it means he’ll be able to laugh at him sooner without offending him. Maybe he’ll even agree to go out after the race.