back again! lando and Oscar said they go to the same bakery, maybe a bakery date story?
chocolate muffins and croissants.
summary: oscar and lando are childhood friends and are very oblivious
words: 1k
warnings: an old lady threatening to beat landos ass
Lando and Oscar had grew up in the same town, so as they grew older they got closer, becoming friends.
Maybe something more was lingering there, something the two were both afraid to admit.
The old lady that worked at the bakery for years now wasn't afraid at all.
There was a local bakery around the corner, and every time Lando would walk in, she'd say in a high-pitched, very delighted voice,
"Oh, Oscar was just here!"
He'd just nod awkwardly and order the croissants he had originally come for.
But today, it was different.
When Lando walked in, the old lady had an upset expression on.
"Oscar was just here, but with a girl. Did you guys break up?"
Lando choked on nothing. "We aren't dating, never were. But.. what girl?" He told himself he was just curious about the girl, that's all.
"I think her name was Lily! Boy, you better go get your man, because if he isn't dating you he is definitely in love with you,"
Lando's ears went slightly pink. "What makes you think that?"
"Because whenever he looks at you, his eyes turn into, like, little hearts. Not to mention he loves the chocolate muffins here, but whenever he comes with you he orders the croissants because you like them,"
"But, he's just a good friend,"
"Are you playing with me right now? Go find your Oscar before I personally beat your ass,"
He walked out, mainly out of fear of the old lady and maybe just a bit because of Oscar. Just a bit.
He stopped under the awning of the florist two doors down and scrubbed a hand over his face. The pink in his ears had spread to his neck.
Oscar with a girl. Lily. The name sat wrong in his chest, it was so unfamiliar.
He turned around, walking down to the park.
Oscar was there, unsurprisingly.
Sitting on the low wall by the fountain, one leg stretched out. Next to him was a girl with her hair tied up in a messy bun, holding a paper bag that definitely had croissants in it. Lily, probably. She looked nice. Completely unthreatening in every way except the way she made Lando's stomach drop.
Oscar looked up and spotted him.
"Hey," Oscar called, standing up. "I was just about to message you. This is Lily, she's an intern at where I work. I ran into her at the bakery,"
Lily gave a small wave, standing up. "Hi. Lando, right?" She passed the croissants to him. "Oscar got these for you, wouldn't even let me have one."
"Hi." Lando said, stiffly, grabbing the paper bag slightly rougher than intended.
Lily, to her credit, seemed to read the air perfectly. She held up her own bag. "I'm actually heading off, got to get back before my shift. Nice meeting you, Lando. Oscar, thanks for paying for the muffins,"
She left with an easy smile, and then it was just the two of them by the fountain.
"You don't buy me muffins," Lando mumbled under his breath, more to himself than Oscar.
Oscar heard it anyway.
Lando kept his eyes on the paper bag in his hands. The croissants were still warm.
"You buy them for yourself," Lando said, a little louder this time. "The muffins. Every time you're alone. Or with.. other people."
Oscar's shoulders tensed. He sat back down on the wall, leaving a careful bit of space between them.
"I do," he admitted. "They're my favourite."
"So why-"
"-Because you like the croissants more." Oscar’s voice was soft, almost defensive. "I'd end up feeling like an arsehole for eating them in front of you, since you don't really like chocolate flavoured stuff,"
"Get up. I'm gonna try those stupid chocolate muffins and you're gonna pay for them and we're gonna have a nice conversation," Lando declared, dragging Oscar up by his hand.
Oscar let himself be dragged, half-laughing, half-flustered, the pink still high on his cheeks. They walked the short distance back toward the bakery. Lando's hand never left Oscar's wrist. He only realised he was still holding on when they reached the door and he had to let go to push it open.
The little bell above the door chimed.
The old lady looked up from behind the counter, eyes lighting up the second she saw them together. Her mouth curved into the most shameless, knowing smile Lando had ever witnessed.
"Two chocolate muffins," he announced. "And he's paying."
Oscar made a small sound behind him that might have been a protest or a laugh. The old lady just beamed harder and plated two large muffins with theatrical care.
They took the muffins to the little table by the window, the same one they'd sat at a hundred times before without ever really looking at each other the way they were looking now. Lando tore a piece off his muffin and shoved it in his mouth before he could overthink it.
It was fine. Sweet. Chocolatey. Not terrible.
Oscar watched him the entire time, eyes soft and faintly amused.
"Well?" he asked.
Lando swallowed. "It's edible."
"High praise."
"Shut up."
Oscar smiled properly then, and Lando swore something was happening to his chest. The old lady had conveniently disappeared into the back, though Lando was fairly certain she was still listening.
Lando's heart was hammering. He could feel it in his throat, in his ears, everywhere. He leaned forward slightly across the little table.
"Oscar."
"Yeah?"
And with one move he might regret later, Lando closed the remaining distance and kissed him. It was a little clumsy at first, Oscar tasting faintly of chocolate and something else that was very distinct.
Oscar made a tiny surprised sound against his mouth, then kissed him back, one hand coming up to curl loosely into the front of Lando's hoodie like he was afraid he might disappear if he let go.
The bell above the door stayed silent. The bakery stayed empty of customers.
Somewhere in the back, the old lady let out a little, "Not dating, he said."
Neither of them pulled away.
love ur ideas luna, never stop spamming my inbox !! 🥹
i know you mean well with the prev anon ask but im pretty sure they’re referring to a ‘read more’ break in your posts (a break which cuts off a post from its full length/hides it from scrolling) xx
**not saying you have to do that! just clearing up confusion :)
yesss I understand once again so sorry prev anon please forgive me 😔🫶
oh no i dont think anon was saying to take a break from writing!!
i think what anon was trying to get at was to use the "keep reading" break on ur posts, especially if it's a fic.
it's good to use for longer posts in general, that way when people see it on their dash, in the tags, it doesnt take up space and stuff; it's just good practice.
idk if im explaining it very well, here's another post that describes what im getting at: https://www.tumblr.com/mokulule/710864684950159360/put-your-fics-under-keep-reading-i-am-tired
oh shittt guys i read it wrong im so sorry prev anon i was in a rush and I did not read it properly 😭🙏
my Roman Empire is that time when max, George, Alex, and Lando played padel together, perhaps some infatuated russtappen playing padel?
last week.
summary: the four playing padel and max and george stuck in their own world
words: 1.6k
warnings: mentions of sex, a lot of rustappen bickering
"Alex. What is he doing here?" George asked, not very discreetly as Max rolled his eyes.
"I invited him," Lando said, flashing a toothy smile which meant he had clearly done it on purpose.
"You both said it would just be us three," George muttered through clenched teeth.
"Princess, I think you're just scared I'm gonna beat you," Max said, his tone suggesting a challenge.
George immediately scoffed. "You wish. Alex, us two. Let's show these two how to actually play padel,"
"Excuse me? Rude. What did I ever do to you?" Lando asked in his usual dramatic way.
"You invited the prick,"
"That's not what you were calling me last week," Max called out, George's face flushing a bright pink.
"Last week? What happened last week, Georgie?" Alex asked, suddenly concerned.
"Nothing-"
"-Your Georgie," Max was quick to cut off George, "was saying how much he loved his Maxie's co-"
"Shut up!" George hissed. He grabbed his padel racket a little too tightly and pointed it at Max like it was a weapon. "One more word and I'm docking you points before we even start,"
Max just grinned, all teeth and zero remorse, bouncing a ball against the court floor with lazy precision. "Dock away, princess. Still won't save you."
"No! Max, shut up, please do not dock away points. I care about the points, George, please!" Lando said, practically begging.
Alex bit back a laugh and clapped a hand on George's shoulder, steering him toward their side of the court before the racket could actually be used as a weapon. "Alright, deep breaths. We're not docking anyone. We're just going to win cleanly and make them buy the most expensive dinner on the menu,"
"I'm serious, Alex. One more comment and I'm walking off,"
"Comment about what? The way you were practically screaming my name into the sheets-"
"Max, I swear to fucking-"
Lando made a high-pitched noise of distress and flung both arms out like a referee. "Okay! Serving order! No more talking about last week until after the match, please. Points are sacred. Points are life. George, please don't dock anyone. Max, please stop trying to get docked. Alex, control your partner."
George exhaled sharply through his nose, rolled his shoulders, and finally pointed the racket at the court instead of Max.
"Fine. We play. Best of whatever. And when we win, Max doesn't get to speak for the rest of the evening,"
Max's grin widened. "Deal. And when we win, you have to tell Alex and Lando exactly what you said last week. Word for word,"
George's ears went pink again. "You're on,"
"I'll serve," Alex said. "Someone has to start this before it turns into a murder,"
He stepped up to the service line, bouncing the ball once, twice. Across the net Max was already in ready position, racket loose in his hand, eyes locked on George with that familiar, infuriating spark.
George met the stare head-on and mouthed, very clearly: You're dead.
Max just winked.
Alex tossed the ball up.
And just as soon as the game had started it had ended. Because just in five minutes, Max had absolutely destroyed George and Alex.
Why did he have to be so fucking good at everything he did?
Lando let out some sort of mix between a scream and a squeal, considering this was his first time he'd actually beaten Alex and George.
If George had known how good Max was, he would've never made the stupid bet.
But thankfully, they had seemed to forget about it as they walked to a nearby restaurant, an expensive one at that, and Alex and George had to pay for everything.
Max slowly grabbed George's waist, whispering in his ear.
"Don't think I forgot you had to tell them everything you said that night,"
George's throat worked, as Max threw his head back, laughing softly.
"I'm just joking. I want those cute little words only for myself anyways,"
George's entire body went rigid under Max's hand. He shot a quick glance toward the other two, who were a few steps ahead, arguing about which table they wanted and whether the wine list was 'pretentious or just expensive.'
"You are the worst person alive," George muttered under his breath, though he made no attempt to step away.
Max's fingers flexed lightly against his waist, thumb brushing the soft fabric of George's shirt like he had every right to be there. "Mm. You didn't seem to think that last-"
"If I hear another word about last week, Verstappen, I promise I will actually kill you."
"You keep saying that," Max's voice stayed low, warm against the shell of George's ear. "Yet here you are, still letting me touch you in public,"
He rolled his eyes, but leaned into Max's touch nevertheless.
The hostess led them to a corner booth, dimly lit and tucked away from the main dining floor. Lando immediately claimed the side facing the room, dragging Alex in after him. That left the opposite bench for George and Max.
George hesitated only a moment this time before sliding in. Max followed, close enough that their thighs pressed together from hip to knee. Neither of them moved away.
Menus arrived. Lando was already scanning the wine list, intending to celebrate accordingly.
"Right," he announced. "Since the losers are paying, we're getting the 2015 Bordeaux. And the fancy bread. And whatever the most ridiculous starter is,"
"You only won because of Max," George muttered, staring determinedly at the menu. Under the table, Max's knee nudged his.
Alex leaned forward, elbows on the table, studying the two of them with open curiosity. "So. Are we ever going to talk about the fact that Max just wiped the floor with us in under five minutes, or are we skipping straight to the part where George pretends he isn't currently letting Max feel him up?"
George choked on air. "I am not-"
Max's hand, still resting low on George's waist from earlier, simply shifted under the table until his fingers settled on George's thigh instead.
"He is," Max said mildly. "And no, we're not talking about the match. George already knows I'm better at everything. Including making him-"
"Max."
"-smile." Max finished, eyes glittering. "What did you think I was going to say?"
Lando rolled his eyes. "You guys are so weird. I don't know if I love it or hate it. Can we order now? I'm starving."
With a waving hand, Lando gestured the waiter to come over.
Soon enough, the wine arrived. Lando poured generously. George took a long sip the moment his glass was filled.
Max waited until George set the glass down before speaking, voice low enough that only George could hear.
"You can relax, you know,"
"I am relaxed,"
"You keep squirming," Max's thumb stroked once, slow. "It's cute,"
George turned his head to glare at him, which was a mistake. Max was already leaning in, close enough that the rest of the restaurant seemed to fade.
Max kissed him.
It wasn't soft or hesitant.
It was deliberate, a little sharp, the kind of kiss that said I dare you to stop me Russell. George made a startled sound against Max's mouth, one hand flying up to fist in the front of Max's shirt, whether to push him away or pull him closer was unclear even to George. For a second he froze. Then he kissed back, brief and fierce, before reality crashed in.
He pulled away with a sharp inhale, eyes wide.
Across the table, Lando had frozen mid-sip. Alex's eyebrows had climbed nearly to his hairline.
Then Lando set his glass down very carefully. "Okay," he said. "So that's what happened last week."
Alex let out a short, incredulous laugh. "I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what I get,"
George's face was scarlet. He opened his mouth, closed it, then pointed an accusing finger at Max. "You- that was- you can't just-"
Max looked entirely unrepentant. He reached for his own wine glass, took a calm sip, and only then glanced at the other two.
"What? He was being tense. I fixed it."
"You fixed it by snogging him in the middle of a restaurant," Lando said, voice climbing. "In front of us. While we're trying to eat fancy bread."
"Technically the bread hasn't arrived yet," Max pointed out.
Alex took a slow sip of his wine, completely unhurried. "I'm just impressed you waited until we were seated. I was half-expecting it on the walk over."
George made a wounded noise. "I hate all of you,"
Alex was still grinning. "No you don't. You've been letting him put his hand on your thigh since we sat down. We all saw it,"
"I did not-"
"You did," Max and Lando said at the same time.
Lando pointed at them with a piece of imaginary bread. "You two owe us an explanation. Or at least the highlights. I paid for this,"
"You didn't pay for anything, we did."
"Details." Lando waved a hand. "Talk. Or I'm ordering the most expensive dessert on the menu and making you watch me eat it slowly."
"Your call," Max said softly. "Want to tell them, or should I?"
George stared at him for a long moment. Then, under the table, he very deliberately covered Max's hand with his own.
"Later," he said, voice rough. "After the wine. And after I stop wanting to crawl under the table."
Max's smile was small and private and entirely for him.
"Later, then."
Across the table, Lando cheered dramatically and reached for the Bordeaux again.
summary: the boy in the letter isnt the boy standing in front of him
words: 414
warnings: brand new day spoilers, this whole scene happens in the movie but with oscar and lando instead of peter and mj
Spider-Man walked into the room, but froze at the sight in front of him.
Lando. Sitting down. Holding a piece of paper.
"Was I meant to find this?" Lando asked, as Spider-Man quickly shook his head.
"No, no, where did you, it's not what it looks like," He said fast, grabbing the piece of paper that was a whole letter dedicated to Lando, and how much he missed him.
The paper crinkled sharply between his gloved fingers. His heart was hammering so hard he was certain Lando could hear it.
Every word on that page, the late-night confessions, the quiet admissions of how empty the city felt without him, the careful, aching way he'd written I miss you, felt like they were burning through the fabric of his suit.
"Take off the mask."
Oscar's hand tightened around the letter.
"I-I can't do that, Lando."
His voice cracked on the name. The mask suddenly felt too tight, the lenses too dark, the entire world reduced to the steady, unreadable look on Lando's face.
"Take off the mask. I deserve to know who you are. Who this 'Oscar Piastri' is."
Warily, Oscar took it off slowly.
The cool air of the room touched his bare skin for the first time. He kept his eyes lowered at first, then forced them up to meet Lando's. There was no recognition there. No flicker of the shared nights on rooftops, no trace of the soft laughter that used to live between them. Just a stranger looking at another stranger.
"The spell or whatever it is that you did, it worked. A-all these memories you're saying that we have together, I don't- I don't have them. And I do see why, you know, he would love you. The boy you wrote that letter to, but," Lando took a deep breath. "I don't love you."
Oscar's jaw slightly clenched, his eyes teary. He just nodded. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Lando's words hung in the air.
His fingers curled tighter around the edge of the letter until the paper began to crease. His throat worked once, twice, but no sound came out. The room felt impossibly large and impossibly small at the same time, every shadow deeper, every distant city noise farther away. He stood frozen in the middle of it, mask hanging limply from one hand, the other still clutching the only proof left of a version of them that no longer existed.
Then Lando walked out.
thanks for request anon! ik it was a bit short and im sorry abt that!
fewtrell stronger than me bc if i had lando norris naked flushed and giving me fuck me eyes on a live stream, tos be damned, i'm showing twitch what a real permaban would look like
just watched brand new day and oh my gosh the amount of times i nearly cried is insane idc who says it wasnt sad it JUST WAS
and I swear these teenage boys wannabe eshays (aussie slang for those minor gangsters type shit) were annoying me so bad they kept sneaking in without tickets and the security guy kept having to chase them it was funny until it wasn’t
summary: lando stalking his new teammate oscar and maybe accidentally liking all his old photos
words: 1k
warnings: a very stupid lando and smug oscar
Oscar had just been signed to McLaren.
Lando had no idea of this at all, he didn't even know who Oscar was until his whole Alpine contract dispute blew up on the internet.
Zak had hyped him up a lot, saying he was an F3 and F2 champion, and whatnot.
But if he was going to be Lando's new teammate for the coming years, he may as well learn about the guy.
So curiousity won and Lando found himself later that night searching up 'Oscar Piastri' on Instagram.
Oh, he was hot.
Oscar had few photos of himself, (boring), but in every single one he managed to look effortlessly good.
And good was undermining it.
There were one or two videos of Oscar speaking, and after being teammates with Daniel for a while, he could recognise an Aussie accent anywhere.
But it was different.
Oscar's voice, accent, tone, was just somehow more intoxicating than Daniel's ever was.
It was like something had possessed Lando, because he couldn't stop scrolling through.
He had somehow scrolled so deep, he had found photos from 2017.
Oscar looked so cute, Lando couldn't stop himself from liking pretty much all the photos, only realising how old they were after he'd liked them.
He quickly unliked everything, gosh Oscar would think he's such a freak, liking photos from fucking 2017.
Maybe because Lando unliked them so fast, Oscar wouldn't get the notifications?
Wrong.
Lando jumped when his phone pinged with a message from none other than Mr. Piastri himself.
Oscar Piastri, 2:56 AM
Hello?
Oh shit.
Lando spent a good two minutes hitting himself with a pillow before,
Lando Norris, 2:58 AM
hi
im ur new temate for mclaren
Oscar Piastri, 2:58 AM
I know
Lando's thumbs hovered uselessly over the keyboard.
He could play it cool. Act like liking five year old photos was a totally normal teammate-bonding activity. Or he could throw his phone out the window and never speak again.
His phone lit up again before he could decide.
Oscar Piastri, 2:59 AM
You liked a photo of me from 2017..?
The one where I'm holding a trophy and looking like I'm 12
Oh sorry, my phone lagged
You liked
Multiple photos of me from 2017
He buried his face in the pillow and screamed into it for a solid five seconds.
Then, because he was a professional racing driver and not a complete coward, he typed.
Lando Norris, 3:01 AM
in my deffencse
they were good photos
and i was rescerching my new temate
very thorough rescearch
Oscar Piastri, 3:02 AM
And what did your research conclude?
Lando Norris, 3:04 AM
that youre hotter than the internet gave you credit for
Oscar Piastri, 3:06 AM
Okay then
Lando Norris, 3:06 AM
forget i said that
jetlag
or somthing
Oscar Piastri, 3:06 AM
You're in Monaco. I'm in Melbourne. Neither of us have jetlag
Lando Norris, 3:07 AM
it was in a normal temate way
not wierd
Oscar Piastri, 3:07 AM
You're doing a terrible job of making this less weird
Also you liked the one where I'm wearing that oversized team hoodie and squinting at the camera like I've never seen sunlight
Was it bad Lando immediately knew what photo he was talking about, because that specific photo had done something to Lando's chest when he'd first seen it.
Lando Norris, 3:07 AM
stop listing them
Oscar Piastri, 3:08 AM
Why? There are more
Lando Norris, 3:08 AM
STOP
Oscar Piastri, 3:08 AM
For the record, I don't mind
It's just kinda unexpected
Most people start with the recent press shots
Lando Norris, 3:09 AM
yeah well
i'm not most people 😏
He regretted the line the second it left his thumbs. Way too flirty.
Oscar's reply came slower this time.
Oscar Piastri, 3:11 AM
I'm starting to notice that
Lando's stomach flipped so hard he had to put the phone down for a second and breathe.
When he picked it back up,
Oscar Piastri, 3:12 AM
Go to sleep
We've got a lot of media to do once I'm in the UK
Wouldn't want you falling asleep in the middle of our first joint interview because you stayed up stalking my old Instagram photos
Lando Norris, 3:12 AM
it wasnt stalking
Oscar Piastri, 3:13 AM
Sure
Night
Lando typed three different versions of 'night' before settling on,
Lando Norris, 3:13 AM
night oscar
Soon enough, it was time to actually meet him.
Zak was practically vibrating with enthusiasm when he ushered Lando into the small meeting room at the factory. Oscar was already there, standing near the window in a plain black McLaren polo, hands in his pockets.
He looked taller than Lando expected. Broader in the shoulders. The soft-edged boy from the 2017 photos was gone; this version of Oscar was sharper, quieter, and even more unfairly good-looking in person.
"Lando," Zak said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Oscar. Oscar, Lando."
"Hey. Nice to meet you," Oscar put his hand out. His expression was polite, almost neutral, but there was something faintly amused sitting just behind his eyes.
"Yes. Yeah. Nice to meet you too," Lando awkwardly shook it back, voice a little higher than usual. He let go too quickly and immediately regretted it.
Oscar's mouth curved, just barely.
"I'll leave you two to get properly introduced. Socials, whatever, just get to know each other."
He was gone before either of them could answer.
The door clicked shut.
Oscar had a subtle smirk on his face. "I don't think it would be a problem for you to get my Instagram, right Lando?"
"I, no, uh, it wouldn't be. Much of a problem. No. Yeah." He cleared his throat. "I mean, I already, you know. Have it. Obviously."
"Through research," Oscar said mildly, echoing Lando's own pathetic excuse from that night. "I remember pretty clearly."
summary: oscar showing lando a true loving relationship
words: 787 guys ik im sorry but i js find it so hard to write long fluff 😭
warnings: fluffy w a teeny tiny bit of angst
Lando had learned the shape of love in the sharp edges of other people's shame.
He'd been the shiny thing once, draped over someone's arm at a club, introduced with a possessive hand on the small of his back and a grin that said look what I got, a fucking world champion.
He'd been the secret too, the name never said out loud, the hand that dropped the moment someone turned their head, the soft, apologetic he's just a friend that landed like a slap every single time. Internalised or not, the message had always been the same.
You are something to be either displayed or buried. Never simply held.
Oscar didn't do either.
The first time they walked into McLaren hospitality together after everything had settled between them, Oscar's fingers stayed laced through Lando's. Not tight. Not performative. Just there.
But it kept happening.
Some nights he lay awake listening to Oscar breathe and catalogued every reason this couldn't last. He was too much. Too loud. Too complicated.
The rug was always about to be yanked. That was the rule. That had always been the rule.
Yet Oscar was determined to to rewrite it.
He did it in the small ways first. The way he said my boyfriend without hesitation when booking a table. The way he texted proud of you after a race that hadn't gone their way, no caveats, no even though.
The way he kissed Lando in the kitchen like it was the most natural place in the world for a kiss to happen, no audience required, none denied either.
Oscar never made a production of it. He simply refused to treat their relationship like something that required negotiation with the outside world. When they ended up side by side at a manufacturer dinner, Oscar's hand found the back of Lando's chair without looking, thumb resting lightly against the fabric of his shirt.
When a journalist tried to steer a joint interview into something coy, 'you two seem close', Oscar answered with the same calm he used in debriefs.
"We are. We're dating."
Sure, it took social media by storm. Even Lando was shocked, Oscar had just told the whole world about their relationship with the same unbothered calmness he always seemed to carry with him.
The clip was everywhere within the hour. Screenshots, reaction videos, whatnot. People stitching it with old footage of them standing too close in the garage. The comments ranged from heart emojis to the usual ugliness Lando had long since learned to mute. But the thing that kept looping in his head wasn't the noise.
It was the fact that Oscar had done it without checking first.
Lando found him later in the quiet of the driver's room, scrolling through tyre data like the internet hadn't just collectively lost its mind.
"You could've warned me," Lando said. His voice came out thinner than he meant it to.
Oscar looked up. "Would you have said no?"
Lando opened his mouth. Closed it. The honest answer sat heavy in his chest. He might have. Not because he was ashamed, gosh, he was so far past that, but because the old fear still lived under his ribs. The one that said the more visible something was, the faster it could be taken apart.
Oscar set the tablet aside and stood. He didn't reach for him yet. Just waited.
"I meant it," Oscar said quietly. "I'm not going to keep this small so it feels safer for you. I know that's what you're used to. People either putting you on a shelf or shoving you in a drawer. I'm not doing either. You're my boyfriend. I'm proud of that. And I'm not going to pretend otherwise just because some people still think it should be a secret."
Oscar stepped closer then, close enough that Lando could feel the quiet heat of him. "You don't have to be okay with it immediately. You don't even have to like that I did it. But I'm not taking it back. And I'm not going to start introducing you as my friend again just because the internet is loud."
Something in Lando's chest pulled tight. He wanted to argue. He wanted to list every reason this could still go wrong. Instead he let his forehead tip forward until it rested against Oscar's collarbone.
Oscar's hand came up, steady at the back of his neck.
Lando closed his eyes. Outside, the paddock kept moving. Notifications kept stacking up on both their phones. But in the small room, Oscar's thumb traced a slow line along the side of his throat, patient and sure.
The rug, for now, stayed put.
And Oscar wasn't letting it slip through his hands.
theartofmadeline
gamechangershow
titsay
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
