SalCtrlz
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Lando leaned against the kitchen counter, fingers curled loosely around a bottle of beer, watching as people milled around—laughing, sharing cigarettes out on the balcony, dancing lazily to the lo-fi playlist Max had put on loop. He wasn’t quite bored, but he wasn’t quite present either. These kinds of parties blurred together lately: familiar faces, predictable small talk, the constant flicker of eyes when people recognised him.
Until him.
The guy sitting cross-legged on the floor near the bookshelf, in jeans that looked too comfortable to be fashionable and a knitted jumper that made him look like he’d wandered in from a chilly night out. He had dark brown hair that curled at the ends and a focused kind of presence, like someone listening intently to a song only he could hear.
Oscar.
Bookmarked by SalCtrlz
23 Dec 2025
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Year 1944.
Amid the horrors of World War II, Lieutenant Lando Norris is a fearless fighter pilot of the Royal Air Force, known for his talent in the skies and for always returning with his uniform stained with soot and a defiant smile on his face. A born warrior, yet with eyes that carry the weight of every mission.On one of his rare leaves at the Allied base in France, Lando visits the medical tent where his wounded friend, Sergeant Max Verstappen, is being treated. There, he meets Oscar Piastri, a young Australian nurse newly arrived at the front.
Series
- Part 1 of Kinda depressive stuff
Bookmarked by SalCtrlz
23 Dec 2025
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how to successfully make an enemy out of your future father-in-law (guide by lando norris) by puppyjakey
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
02 Nov 2025
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One big misunderstanding will lead into Max almost killing a guy. Coincidentally, it’s his future son-in-law and Max doesn’t fucking like him.
George is there just to stir shit up. And he pays dearly for it.
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Bookmarked by SalCtrlz
20 Dec 2025
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Lando wakes up to the sound of rain and the weight of Oscar’s arm across his stomach.
For a moment, that’s all there is. Grey light leaking around the curtains, the soft drum of drizzle on the glass, the radiator grumbling in the corner. The flat feels small and warm and theirs.
He lies there, smiling at the ceiling, counting quietly in his head.
One, two, three—
On four, Oscar usually lets out this little grumpy exhale, buries his face deeper into the pillow and mutters something about “five more minutes.”
Today, he doesn’t.
OR
Oscar buys tulips. Lando provides unsolicited commentary. There’s a grave. It’s fine.