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── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── NERDY ! OSCAR PIASTRI / FLIRT ! LANDO NORRIS
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── Kind words help to motivate me more than anything else. I'm still very new to writing
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Landoscar Bakery College/Uni Meetcute AU this is what you wanted
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ Oscar, Embarrassed about his actions, stays away from the bakery for a while. Eventually, It's time for him to go back.
wc 3.5k | Previous Chapter | Ao3 Link
For a week, it ran through his mind without pause. The fumble of a lifetime.
It was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Lando's smile. The faint pink on his cheeks, the way his nose scrunched. The gap that made Oscar run his tongue over his own teeth every time because a tooth gap would never not be cuter than this. His heart would rush and Oscar would find himself blushing. Alone, in his room, blushing. Over a man he met once.
He would remember how Lando had leaned in, how he'd called him smart, how the light reflected in his eyes. The interest. Lando was interested with Oscar. And Oscar, using about the amount of braincells found in a jellyfish, had shot it all down and run away.
Oscar would cover his face with his hands and sigh. This whole thing was messing with him.
As boring as Oscar's life already was, fear of bumping into Lando made it worse. He went straight from school to his apartment. And came straight from his apartment to school. For half a week, he wouldn't even go back to the bakery, a place he used to visit for at least half an hour each day. No more bike rides through the park or even trips to the library. All of this because he was scared of seeing Lando again. Scared of having to explain why he'd run off.
Monday was the first day he broke this path. Four days after his bakery encounter with Lando. Hidden underneath a black quarterzip and another of his many hats, he dropped in in the morning, before class, hoping that it gave him the best chances of not seeing Lando.
The bakery was busier. There was a short line, and someone else had walked out in the same moment that Oscar walked in. Something in the air felt wrong, though Oscar couldn't place it. It was weird to be a part of the rush, as opposed to observing it. Oscar was glad to buy a muffin and leave as soon as he could, his heart trying to pound out of his chest. The day after, he didn't return. Neither the day after that.
By Thursday, Oscar had convinced himself to go back. To take a stab at his usual routine. It was difficult, but of all the things Oscar was, irrational wasn't one of them. And what he had been acting for the past week had been nothing but.
Oscar spent some time standing in the mirror, looking himself over. Something he never did. He was hidden away in a jacket, a hat plopped over his messy and unbrushed hair. Naturally, he was still in a pair of shorts. Oscar didn't like to wear long pants.
The eyes in the mirror bored back at him as he worked to convince himself that this was fine. That he was going to be fine. Oscar wasn't going to let one bad interaction with a stranger make him afraid of his own life. He took a deep breath, and he could feel his heart pounding as he exhaled.
When Oscar walked into the bakery for the second time that week, he was fifteen minutes late. At least, fifteen minutes later than he would have shown up any other thursday. There was no way to be late to a bakery if you didn't have prior plans and the store wasn't closing up. But Oscar still couldn't shake the feeling of being late. He pulled his cap down over his eyes, but not before getting a look around.
There was only one other customer in the store, thankfully. Someone in an orange hoodie with jeans. He wore a book bag over his back and had dark, curly hair. Probably a student from nearby, then. As Oscar made his way closer to the register, he could hear part of the man's sentence, something about the 'bloke behind him'. Oscar didn't know if the man meant Oscar, as Oscar was now standing behind him, or if he had caught the latter half of a story the man was telling. The latter felt more reasonable.
Oscar kept his eyes on the ground until the man moved out of the way, his hat concealing his face.
The woman at the register was a brunette woman with green eyes. She was maybe a year older than Oscar, and greeted him with a genuine smile, saying that it had been a while and that she had missed him. Oscar smiled in response, thanking her, before ordering a muffin. It hadn't even occurred to him that by this time, they likely had a few other things made fresh. The chocolate chip muffins had just become a part of his routine at this point.
He raised his card to pay, but was stopped. "It looks like the patron before you has covered your order."
"No."
Oscar looked around. The guy in the orange hoodie was sat, looking out the window, with his book bag propped onto the table so it covered his head. Oscar chewed his inner lip, feeling a very strong sense of deja vu.
Oscar sighed and turned back to the woman at the till. "You'll have to give them my gratitude, then. Keep this one for whoever comes in next."
"Of course, Oscar" she smiled, a knowing glint in her eye. "Lemme get that muffin for ya."
The man in the orange jacket was sat at the table that Oscar liked to sit at. He couldn't help but remind himself that if he'd been here on time, his table would very likely be empty, but he shrugged it off, headed for the table on the opposite end, next to the other window. There was nothing he could do about it now.
Then, he heard it. His name.
"Oscah!"
Oscar glanced up, his heart rate accelerating at nothing other than the knowledge that he knew that voice. He turned around to find Lando moving his bookbag onto the floor.
Oscar froze. His mouth fell open and ran dry. Everything running through his mind. Why? Why now? Why was his face already running red. He could barely breathe, and yet, Lando, with light glinting in his big, green eyes, waved Oscar over, patting the table. It took everything for Oscar just to swallow, having to manually take a breath and push his foot forward. This couldn't be happening.
"I told you I'd get you back, yeah?" Lando smiled, and, as if on impulse, as if he'd trained himself to do so, Oscar's tongue ran over his front teeth the second he saw the gap between Lando's. He smiled back, at least, he tried to. The best he could manage was an awkward smile that faltered at the corners and tried to hide his front teeth all the same. Lando wasn't wearing his hat. And Oscar couldn't begin to explain why that felt like a stab through the heart. Oscar had spent the past week trying to avoid Lando, and now that he was here, Oscar was upset he wasn't wearing Oscar's stuff?
"Yeah.." Oscar trailed. "Thanks, mate.."
Oscar hesitated. The silence between them feeling wrong. Smothering. Oscar lifted his hand, going for the brim of his hat, when the name cut through the thick, bakery air.
"Mr. Norris?"
Lando stood, making his way to the till. Oscar relaxed, using the fleeting seconds to breathe, to try to put himself in a better position. Prepare.
When Lando came back, he had two cupcakes. Smiling, he sat one down in front of Oscar. "Pretty sure this ones for you, mate. Sweets for someone sweet 'n allat."
Oscar could have fallen apart right then. Melted into a puddle on the warm, bakery tile, and died. After everything, Lando was still flirting. His cap came down over his head. Oscar knew his neck and ears were turning red, so of course it did.
"Hey," Lando leaned forward, flicking Oscar's hat upwards, undoing what Oscar had just done. "I told you already about the caps, mate."
Oscar, immediately, dropped his face into his hands, his blush developing further. He had to be cherry red already, and this had to be some kind of world record. And if that wasn't bad enough. Lando had noticed it too.
"So blushy today.." he smirked, voice lowered an octave like he was trying to sound hot. And by God, it was working. Lando swiped his finger through the frosting of his own cupcake and licked it, then smiled at Oscar, who was still hiding in his hands.
"C'mon, Osc. You don't have to hide, You know I won't bite you."
Oscar had to squeeze his eyes shut, trying not to groan or whine. Oscar had never though he would be sitting in a bakery, being teased by one of the most attractive men he'd ever seen. Lando leaned even further forward, and Oscar felt an all too familiar chill atop his head. Lando had his cap. Again.
"I'm jokinggg, Osc. Chill. Anyways," Lando continued, pulling out his phone and giving Oscar time to adjust himself, "I had something to show you. Ready?"
Oscar nodded and Lando started the video on his phone. Oscar saw a character walking, with his head down, through the grass. He had thick headphones on, and was positioned so that he was on the opposite end of the set of traintracks from the camera.
"I directed this," Lando said, glancing up at Oscar for only a moment before looking back down. As he did, a train rushed by, separating the video's perspective from the character with the headphones. A titlecard showed, reading 'Remember Me', and disappearing when the train left. The boy was gone too.
The camera cut to three boys, sitting in what seemed to be a living room, talking about trying to track down a ghost. Oscar noticed that while none of the characters were played by Lando, the main character, Landon, had curly, dark hair, and green eyes.
The premise of the short film was simple. Landon and two of his friends were trying to track down a ghost. Find it, and prove to themselves it existed. While his friends were skeptical, Landon was all in, believing wholeheartedly in the existence of the ghost. His dedication led to what Oscar found to be a beautifully captured scene near the end of the film, in which Landon, after following what he believed to be hints the ghost left into an abandoned building, had a conversation with the ghost through a closed, closet door, because the ghost asked, with a shaking, tearful sounding voice, for Landon not to open it.
The boy and the ghost talked for a while. For so long that you would forget Landon was even talking to a ghost. Suddenly, with no urging, the voice on the other side thanked Landon, and wouldn't elaborate when Landon asked what for. The ghost said he was leaving now, but he had something for Lando. As a thank you. "To remember me by," the ghost said quietly, like it was fading away, "Because no one else will."
The doorknob twisted, cracked open with an ominous, and yet empty creak, as though it was pushed by nothing but the air circulating through this almost empty, abandoned building.
The last frame of the shortfilm was a hat. It was clean, in pristine condition despite the decay of everything around it. Set up on a block as if the ghost had left it there not to get dirty. As if Lando had deliberately not let the hat touch the ground. When the credits rolled, starting with Directed by Lando Norris, they split to take up both sides of the screen, leaving the middle to be for the hat. Oscar's hat. That didn't disappear until the film ended.
Oscar looked back up at Lando in awe.
"Been wanting to write a ghost story for a while," Lando said, smiling as though he hadn't just shown Oscar the most beautiful, most jarring story Oscar had ever seen. As if he hadn't given Oscar a second life, made him fall in love with it, and killed it off all in one sitting. For a brief second, Oscar wondered if he was meant to feel mocked. He shook his head to himself when the thought came up. He didn't feel mocked, and if he was meant to. He would. "Came up with a pretty good idea after you gave me your hat."
Oscar glanced back down to Lando's phone, the screen had gone dim, and looked back up to Lando. Lando was already looking at Oscar, and Oscar flushed when their eyes met, breaking contact immediately. He was still in awe at the creation that had just been lain in front of him.
"I hope you don't… mind. That I used your cap, by the way. I mean, it was for school, mainly, and I got an A on it, but not too many people saw it.
Lando was still looking into Oscar's eyes. Even as he glanced back up, their eyes made contact and Oscar had to shoot his glance right back down. But not before Oscar was reminded that, once again, his cap had been moved to the man in front of him. "I don't mind it," Oscar said quietly, looking around the empty bakery. "Its yours now."
Oscar looked back just in time to see the wide grin plastered onto Lando's face. He opened his book bag, and before Oscar knew it, his hat, the one Lando had taken from his head just a few minutes before, had been dropped back onto his head. Lando had pulled the other hat from his bag, and was now wearing that. And looking just as terrible as he had the first time. Making Oscar's heart beat just as fast.
Oscar's ears felt hot. Being this blushy over a guy Oscar had really just met was an embarrassment.
"You should eat your cupcake," Lando said, somehow pulling Oscar from a world of thoughts he didn't even know he had stepped into. "Muffin's easier to save for later if you don't want both."
Oscar looked down at his once again forgotten food and nodded, picking up his cupcake and taking a bite into it. It was a regular vanilla cupcake, white frosting and all, but it was still a sweet, and very tasty, sentiment. Oscar couldn't help but smile.
Lando took a bite from his own cupcake, then sipping from the cup of whatever he had ordered. Oscar slowly backed his chair and stood from the seat, watching Lando's eyes follow each movement.
"Running off again?" Lando asked, in a tone of voice that Oscar couldn't describe as being anything other than 'not mocking enough'. He said it like it was okay. Like he'd already accepted the running off as a part of Oscar.
Oscar should have been hurt. Lando was basically telling him that he didn't expect him to stay around for very long. For some reason though, he just wasn't. If anything, the accepting tone in Lando's voice felt safe. It felt more like an invitation than an excuse to leave. He couldn't put a finger on why, exactly, he found that romantic.
"Just buying a drink," Oscar clarified, and Lando smirked
"Well if I would have known, I would have bought an extra large hot chocolate for us to drink together."
Oscar snorted, which made Lando smile, immediately saying something about how making Oscar laugh had meant he 'won'. It only made Oscar laugh more. An enjoying, open mouthed laugh. that Oscar immediately hid with his hand, his laugh dying out as soon as he realized what he'd done. He could see gears turning in Lando's brain, and turned to make his way to the till before Lando had the chance to respond.
Naturally, the woman at the register asked if Oscar wanted his card back. Oscar glanced towards the door. It wasn't rare for no one to have come in at this time of day, "Uhh.. Keep it a little longer. I was just wondering if you could ring a hot chocolate.
The woman at the till nodded, telling Oscar it would be right out for Oscar. It was while she had turned to make the drink that the bell jingled and someone else walked in, once again popping the fantasy bubble of Oscar's little date. Oscar hadn't even seen whoever had come in, he just pulled his hat down over his eyes and kept his eyes on the floor. He took his drink and went back to his seat without retrieving his card. Lando was quiet.
Whatever the person behind Oscar had ordered, they took it and left. Oscar hadn't even noticed. He hadn't noticed Lando standing from or returning to the table either, and by the time Oscar blinked back to consciousness, it was because Lando was waving Oscar's card in his face, saying he was going to take it if Oscar didn't 'wake up'.
"Sorry.." Oscar mumbled, taking the card and pocketing it. He had no clue what had just happened, but he was embarrassed that it did
"'ts fine, Osc," Lando smiled, It was that same beautiful, charismatic smile. Oscar, once again falling a victim to his training, ran his tongue across his teeth. Somehow, his action seemed to remind Lando of something. His eyes lit up with the kind of 'oh yeah' look you often saw on the face of someone who just remembered what they had forgotten moments prior.
"What's the deal with your teeth, mate?"
Well. Oscar wasn't… Expecting that.
What was he even supposed to say to that? His brows arched, inching closer to each other, as any possibility of an answer evaded him. Lando elaborated. "I don't think there's anything wrong with them. But clearly you do. What's the deal?"
Oscar sighed, wondering if he should trust what just barely wasn't a stranger to one of his biggest insecurities. With a gentle shake of his head, he opened his mouth, showing Lando the teeth he had been bullied for for what seemed to be his entire life.
Lando only smiled, "Theyre adorable."
"They're-??" Oscar wasn't expecting that.
"Oh, you're just like a little rabbit, Osc," Lando said, still smiling, and while, yes, it wasn't the first time Oscar had heard 'rabbit'… it was the first time it sounded sweet. Lando really didn't have a problem with this. Oscar didn't know how to react to that. He just blinked. It was all he could do.
"You shouldn't see yourself so negatively, Osc. Bunny teeth are adorable. I've got a gap! See?" Lando opened his mouth, trying to prove to Oscar the gap Oscar had seen a million times. Oscar couldn't help but laugh. Open mouthed, not hiding it. Wanting to hide it, but not hiding it. Oscar wanted to get braver, and with Lando here, maybe he could do that.
Lando took another bite of his cupcake. Oscar did the same. Before he could go for a sip of his hot chocolate though, Lando leaned forward, arm reaching out for something. Oscar assumed he was trying to take his hat again. Despite already having one on his head, Oscar would have let him.
But he didn't
Landos's swiped against Oscar's nose, and as he pulled it away, Oscar realized that the white substance on his thumb was frosting. Oscar had frosting on his nose. And Lando got rid of it for him. His entire face was red now, burning, and he pulled his hat so far down that the last thing he saw before absolute black was Lando wiping his thumb on a napkin.
He mentally cursed whatever sick author would put him through this kind of torment. Could they not just skip to the end already? You know, to the happily ever after?
"Osc, don't hide from me, please." Oscar wondered, as he slowly moved his hat back into place, exposing his red face to the man sitting across from him, how long he had been calling him that. 'Osc'. He must have missed it the first time, and now he was wondering how they had gone from 'Oscah Piastri of the Land Down Under' to just…. 'osc'. A nickname. 'Osc'. Something a friend would say.
Were they…. friends?
Oscar watched as Lando glanced down at his phone. He saw, in what felt like slow motion, the smile drain from Lando's face.
"Oh. Oh, fuck." He looked up at Oscar, starting to stand, "Hey mate, My class starts in fifteen. You wont hate me if I go?"
Oscar shook his head, feeling almost dumbfounded. Why would Lando have even come in the first place if he had class? He had his bookbag on, was he here in the time between lectures? Why? For Oscar? Oscar tried not to let the thought heat his face. Lando was walking away. Oscar felt like he was watching someone slip through his fingers, and he had to wonder if this was how he left Lando feeling just a week ago.
The bell rang. The door opened. Lando was out the door. Oscar looked back to his cupcake. Then, suddenly, as if none of that had happened, Lando was in front of him. phone outstretched towards him.
"I never got your number, handsome," Lando said, and Oscar could have melted into a puddle on the spot.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── SURFER ! OSCAR PIASTRI / MERMAN ! LANDO NORRIS
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── Remember to leave a comment / reblog. Kind words help motivate
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── There's a new character in this that's a little out of character. Its my first time writing as him, sorry
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ Oscar gets some advice from a mentor.
wc 3k | Prev Chapter | Ao3 link
He walked to the edge of the beach, scanning the rock pattern, his board dug into the sand behind him. The smell of salt filled his senses, the sun warming his face despite the harsh breeze. It was windy. Not too windy, not windy enough to kick up standstorm or awaken angry waves, but windy enough that Oscar saw very few of the Wednesday morning regulars
Oscar had finished his morning routine a little quicker than usual, which meant, on non-work days like this one, that he was able to get to the beach earlier. Even more beach time in his all-day beach day. Naturally, considering the warmth of the sun and the bright blues of the sky above and water below, Oscar was curious about the swimmer from the day previous. He wondered if the man would be back again today, to see the beach when it was hustling and alive as opposed to when it was slipping off to sleep. That was why he was scanning the rocks then. To see if the stranger he'd met the day before would be there again. He studied the rock formations, looked over each rock individually before coming to the conclusion. No swimmer today.
That was okay. Oscar knew people had lives. He had his own life. One that he should get back to.
The waves kept going, they never stopped. Oscar could see them rolling in the distance, standing at a peak before crashing into the shore, only to retreat and restart the process. The ocean had that beautiful trait. No matter what, no matter how still the space around it was, the water would always crash back into the shore.
He hadn't realized he was standing stationary until the water met his toes and pooled around his feet. The ocean's way of saying it missed him. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. There was nothing on the rocks, Oscar reminded himself. He would get to work now.
He took his board from the sand and stepped into the water. The cold sensation was a welcomed presence at this point. Distracting. Oscar needed that. Small distractions were good for recalibrating his focus. He paddled into the ocean, further than most the surfers on the Wednesday morning water, setting his mind to train. There was a small tournament being held at the beginning of next month, and a win would be nice after his previous wipeout.
Last night's practice stayed fresh in Oscar's mind. The repetition of trying to find his footing after starting noticably too late on the wave. Oscar was no superhuman, and the breeze from yesterday was nothing but a gentle breath compared to today's winds. This weather, while much better suited for the surfer's style, made executing this venture require a different world of skill. Skill in a set Oscar was still developing. The waves were much taller today, peaking and coming with much more speed. Trying to catch his footing after getting a purposely late start was not innately easy for him just because he had succsessfully done it the night before. But that wasn't to say it didn't make the process easier.
He couldn't count how many times the ocean had shoved him off his board, enveloped him in cold, and slowly liften him to the surface to try again. The endeavor felt impossible. In the distance, a green flag waved on the pier, but Oscar wouldn't be surprised if it changed to yellow very soon. Maybe he should take a break. Have a snack. Check the time. He had all day, after all.
He would try one last wave, just to get him back to the shore. And he could already see it rumbling in the distance. He paddled towards it, turned around, and positioned himself, just as he'd been doing this whole time. Only this time, the footing stuck. Oscar could feel the confidence in the board under his feet. The spray of the water. It was perfect.
When the wave had died into whitewater, Oscar looked back, glancing towards the rocks in excitement. He'd finally done it. It wasn't mastery, but it was the first step. His heart was racing, exhilaration that surfing always gave him.
He ripped his eyes from the rocks when he realized what he was doing. Trying to ignore the feeling of his heart dropping, his appetite dissipating like waves into whitewater. He wasn't here today. What was thatt so hard for Oscar to get throughgh his head?
"Hey mate! You're looking a little off today,"
Oscar whipped around at the sudden voice, looking up to find the surfer in front of him. He pat Oscars back with the kind of force that he knew was meant to be friendly, but still made him stumble and cough as he asked Oscar 'why that was?'
Oscar frowned. What did he mean? Him looking at the rocks? Was it that obvious? "I-?"
"C'mon mate," Oscar could see a glint in the surfer's eyes. Something he recognized. "I've never seen you wipe out so many times in a row. What are you on at?"
Every muscle in Oscar's body relaxed, he wasn't even sure when he had tensed up. Daniel. That was the surfers name. Daniel Ricciardo. He used to be real competition for Oscar, but as the time went by, the older man retired. It was only then that Oscar and the previous golden boy of Aussie surfing could truly become friends. Danny was something of a mentor to Oscar. It was nice to have someone to talk about the competitve life with.
"I wanted to give myself… more timing room," Oscar explained, trying to choose his words precisely. He'd never explained what he was going at to anyone. Would he found stupid? "So I decided to, uh.. practice. Practice getting up as late as I can 'n' keeping my footing."
Danny made a face, thinking, probably, before he gestured Oscar over, "Come 'n' sit. Ya had brekkie yet?"
Oscar followed the older surfer to his spot on the beach, A blanket laid across the sand with an umbrella pushed into the beach. There were two beach chairs sitting over the blanket in the sand, which Oscar, at first, found odd, as Danny was here alone, but as he sat, he understood what the second chair was for. Danny was a social guy, after all.
"No board?" Oscar asked as Danny dug through his beach bag. He knew the man didn't surf competitively anymore, but what surfer went to the beach without a board?
"Nah," Danny said, pulling a lunchbox from his bag and unzipping it. "Sometimes, you gotta come to the beach and just be n stuff. You like papaya?"
Oscar nodded, and Danny tossed one of the fruits into the air. Oscar fumbled, but caught it, and Danny continued speaking.
"We spend so much of our lives dominating the waters, sometimes you gotta take her on a date instead." Danny laughed at his joke, and Oscar smiled as well. Danny liked to laugh at a lot of things. It made him more liked in the surfer world than the "stoic" and "emotionless" Oscar Piastri.
Oscar was pretty sure he wouldn't be called those names if he wasn't always being compared to australia's most golden surfer since Mark Webber.
"Really though," Danny said, still continuing his explanation, "We're on top of the water so often, trying to control it, well, you know, as much as we can. Sometimes its nice to just sit with it. To not let your board tempt you. So sometimes I don't bring mine." Danny bit into a papaya.
Oscar understood to an extent what Danny was saying. The ocean was beautiful and vast, and surfing wasn't the only way to enjoy it. Oscar knew that. What he didn't understand, his eyes finding the green flag that was warping in the wind as he thought about it, was why Danny would choose such a perfect surf day to sit on the shore. Couldn't he do this on a day when the forecast predicted no wind at all.
Oscar heard Danny laugh again, felt another heavy blow to his back. "You are so funny, mate," he laughed.
Oscar hadn't said anything, but Danny was one to laugh at anything.
"You always get this look when you're thinking. That one. I know what you're thinking. And Oscar, that's the point," he came down from his fit of laughter, finally able to explain himself to Oscar, "Sometimes you have to give up a good day to enjoy it. Y'know?"
Oscar didn't know. But he didn't say anything, he bit into his fruit. Danny kept talking.
"You wiped out in the last tournament," Danny said, Oscar could feel Danny's eyes digging into him as his face heated, not from being flustered, but because of the embarrassment. He kept his gaze on that rolling waves in the distance. The tid e was about to come in.
It was true. Oscar had wiped out. It wasn't timing, he stood at the perfect time. He almost always did. Regardless, he couldn't catch his footing, and the ocean was not kind to him that day. It was over for Oscar seemingly as quick as it had started, and wiping out was much more embarrassing for someone in his professional ranks than it was for the casual surfer.
"You saw?"
"It's crazy the stuff people livestream onto youtube these days."
Oscars head met his hands, god. It wasn't enough that that whole tournament was televized. It had to be immortalized onto youtube as well?
"It happens to all of us, Oscar," Danny said, his voice sounding softer now. Oscar could hear him shuffling in the bag before he spoke again. "There she is. Heads up, it's for you."
Heads up meant Danny was going to throw something at you, so Oscar perked, not wanting to get hit. When he held his hands out, a pack of chocolate landed in them. TimTams.
The smile was immediate. His favorite.
"A- thanks, mate."
"No probs. Hey, listen up, Kay?"
Oscar looked over and nodded, opening the pack of chocolates as the older began his story.
"When I was your age, I thought it was time to give up. Stop surfing. Competitively, at least. I met some people on the beach. Travelers. And when I tell you they put an idea in my head."
He wanted to throw away his career. Retire. "Do like that skateboarder a few years earlier. He takes care of bees now, you know?" Danny chuckled. "But I wanted to buy a van and just go places. Travel. See things that surfers don't see."
Oscar shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know where the older was going with this. He loved the ocean, everything about it. He wouldn't leave it, he wouldn't even dream of it.
Danny continued, describing all of the things that he, when he was Oscars age apparently, wanted to see. Art exhibits and mountain ranges, forests, and one of those loud, god forsaken car races that Oscar wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near.
But when he tried to leave, he said, he found that he couldn't. He couldn't will himself to leave the ocean behind. So he started throwing his game. On purpose. Wiping out. Trying to give it up.
Ohh.
"That's not what I'm doing," Oscar said, "really, I'm trying to get better, not worse." He sat up, just the thought of leaving the ocean making him feel tense and a little sick. What would his life look like without the beach? Without the ocean? Without surfing?
Danny looked over to Oscar, his face was serious, trying to read him, it would seem. Then he smiled, almost laughed, and nodded. "Of course, mate. I didn't say you were."
Oscar leaned back again, feeling his body relax. He'd misread the situation. Danny wasn't trying to tell him some kind of life lesson, he was just telling a story. He swallowed, feeling words better.
"Eventually," Danny continued, "I realized that I still loved surfing. "
Oscar coudn't imagine a world where he thought for even a minute that he didn't love surfing.
"And it wasn't even freedom from surfing that I wanted. It was a break from the sport. From the cameras, the judges, the sponsor, money, post tournament interviews. The travelers, they made me think I wanted something I didn't. And Oscar, that might happen to you one day. You might meet a girl,"
Oh God.
"Or a guy, hey, I don't judge, mate."
Equally as 'Oh God' as before.
"You might meet someone. Who makes you think you have to change your lifestyle to be with them. And sometimes your brain tells you that a life in that new lifestyle'll be so much better. But Osc? Listen to your heart. Listen to your… your body, when it says it's not ready to give up the board. Cause. Y'know eventually it will be. And that's when you can go retire and take care of bees or whatever."
And he was laughing again.
That was what this was about. Daniel thought he'd met someone. This wasn't about Danny telling a story, sharing a part of his life with the younger surfer. Danny thought he was doing something. Making a statement.
After laughing so hard he started coughing, Danny added a little more to his sentiment.
"Your body knows what will make you happy better than your brain. When your mind is telling you, "no, that isn't what we want, this is," that's when you know it's time to stop listening.
That seemed like terrible advice to Oscar. He ate another TimTam. His mind told him eating an entire box of TimTams at once was a bad idea. Even if his body wanted it.
Then again, it was obvious Danny thought he was falling for someone. This was meant to be romance-life advice … somehow. Don't leave the ocean for an attraction.
Yeah, as if that would even happen.
Oscar checked the time. The morning had slowed significantly since he sat down with Danny for a snack, but now he was itching to get back into the water. Waves crashed onto the sand, beckoning.
"Ah-" Danny called, somehow sensing Oscar starting to stand. "thirty minutes,"
Oscar scoffed, smiling, "there's no way you actually believe that-"
"It's important you let your food digest."
"It was a myth out of a boydcout manual."
"And you're a competitive surfer. Trust me. Wait twenty five more minutes, you wont feel as unbalanced when you get back out there."
To be entirely truthful, Oscar had no desire to trust Danny right now. Not when he had just gone through an entire spill on why Oscar shouldn't let his (non-existent!) love life keep him away from the ocean. Right now, the only thing keeping him from his board on the waves was Danny. Hypocrite, much?
Despite everything running through his mind, Oscar obliged, sitting back, his hand met his thigh, thumb sliding slowly up and down the path of skin. Someone had described it once as his grounding technique. A way to calm himself.
Oscar needed to calm himself.
A few minutes later, he reached for his board as well, Propped It over his chair so that his other thumb could rub circles into the smooth plastic. Two things he could feel… or something.
Having his board in his hand somewhat helped with the itch. His personal board was light blue, unlike the white one he used in tournaments or the orange one his sponsor had him pretend was his regular. Oscar had many personal boards, all personalized in different ways, but this one was one of his favourites, and it was blue.
Danny turned his head towards Oscar, A smile growing on his face. "You're eager to get back in the ocean."
Oscar nodded, his eyes glued to the horizon. The flag had changed, he noticed. Yellow now. The wind must have picked up. Oscar hadOscar hadn't even noticed the way the wind had been running through him, drying his hair. Now that he thought about it, maybe it was windier.
"Those are some good waves," Danny began.
"Yeah," Oscar continued, breathlessly, like ocean was a partner in a beautiful dress and Oscar wanted her all to himself. He swallowed, trying to come to his senses. "Shame you didn't bring your board."
"I'll be alright, sport. More than happy watching you for the day, mate."
Oscar flushed. And that was when Oscar saw it. Thought he saw it. He wasn't watching for it, he just, happened to be looking when he saw, for a split second, someone- something- some.. shadow. A Dark Reflection in the Ocean's Distance, hoisted up on the rocks just like the day before. Oscar looked to Danny, considering saying something, but the second his glanced dotted back to the rocks, the shadow was gone. Something in Oscar's heart sank.Maybe his entire heart.
Danny seemed not to notice a thing. Oscar wondered what Danny would do in his postotion, but he knew Danny wasn't like him. Danny wasn't bad at social situations like him. If Danny had met the swimmer yesterday, he'd have the man's full name, mothers maiden name, name of the team he swam for, and probably a day for the near future set up to meet again. Not to mention the guys Facebook by the end of the day so that they could make more friends.
Oscar looked at Danny. He was just… sociable like that.
Oscar caught a glimpse of a dolphin in the distance. The tail end from the end of a jump. It wasn't rare to see them when it was windy like this. Oscar always assumed that the dolphins liked to surf as well. Speaking of surfing, Oscar shifted uncomfortably. There was nothing he wanted more to be back on his board in the ocean right now.
He moved, slowly, scared Danny would tell him to sit back. Carefully, he stood.
"You going back out?" Was all Danny had to say about it.
Oscar nodded and Danny let him go, thankfully. Oscar didn't know what he'd do if he had to spend another minute drying out on that beach.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── NERDY ! OSCAR PIASTRI / FLIRT ! LANDO NORRIS
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── Warning! While nobody in the text is homophobic, Oscar reacts very negatively to the thought that someone could be. So, homophobia, kindof
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── The Landoscar Bakery College/Uni Meetcute au you've wanted
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ I'm still new to writing fic, please leave nice comments
wc 3.6k | Next Chapter | Ao3 Link
Oscar pulled his hat over his eyes. He didn't necessarily mean to listen in on anything, but he had deliberately chosen the seat nearest the register to have his muffin.
"And that will be all for you today?" The woman behind the counter asked, and the man who had just ordered didn't answer. Not audibly, at least. Oscar couldn't see with his back to the till. He could only imagine that the man nodded, though, because she continued, drawing out an 'and' as she worked the register, "It looks like the patron before you has paid for your order today.
Oscar pulled his hat even lower over his head and smiled, heat rising to his face at nothing but the mention. It didn't matter how many times he did it, being the anonymous doner always made his face burn.
"Nah, You're pulling my leg," he heard the man speak, and for a moment, he considered turning around to look.
"Uhmm." he heard the woman begin. Trying not to seem involved, Oscar took a bite of his muffin.
The bakery sat just off the nearby campus. It was an almost-popular spot. The kind of place everyone thought was their own little secret, but brought all their friends to anyways. The walls were brown, the floor was warm, brown tiling of different sizes. Two large windows supplied the bakery of most of its light, making the cold, grey nature of the outside view seem like it belonged to a completely different world than that of the rich, cozy, and yet somehow, mostly empty bakery.
Oscar forced his gaze to the windows, watching dull cars drive through his field of vision. Anything to not look invested in the conversation at the register.
"Really? Well, what a legend, You'll have to tell 'im thanks for me,"
"Will do."
Oscar felt his face get hotter, unable to keep a straight face, he looked down and let himself smile. Just knowing that was thanks enough.
Napkins were held in a tweed basket at the end of the counter. Right behind where Oscar was sat. It wouldn't have been a problem if Oscar's name hadn't been called as soon as the man went for a few.
"Mr. Piastri, your drink is ready sir."
He tried, in vain, to force the pink tint from his face before standing, nodding at the man before making his way to the counter. He hadn't ordered a drink, but this balery always liked to reward him for his good deeds. And he'd already learned better than to try to deny the treats.
"Uh, yeah, thanks mate."
"Of course," the woman smiled,and Oscar noted that she had one of the whitest smiles he'd ever seen. She slid his card back and he pocketed it, carrying the drink to his little table. The man was still standing at the napkin station when he got there.
Oscar only took one sip of the drink he was given, (hot chocolate, he noted. He didn't even know they served hot chocolate here) before he was interrupted.
"So you're the bloke that paid for my croissant?"
Oscar blinked, leaning forward without thinking about it, "Sorry?" Maybe he misheard
"I'm due to get you back then, huh?"
What? No, the whole Pay It Forward thing is meant to be about doing good for someone else, not for getting sweets and free meals! "You don't have to," Oscar said quietly, but the man was already pulling the chair across from Oscar to sit in.
Oscar let himself get a look at the man. He had a goatee, and was wearing an orange shirt. His hair was a mess of unbrushed curls. Not that Oscar could judge, as his hair wasn't any familiar with a comb himself. The man in front of him had green eyes, eyes that, by the time Oscar had gotten to them, were already starting deep into his own.
Oscar tensed, flushed, and looked back down, fingers squeezing around the warm cup.
"Checking me out?" the man asked before laughing. The sound high pitched and strangely unique. Oscar's blush only deepened. No, he wasn't 'checking him out', however, it would have been a lie to say the man sitting in front of him wasn't deeply attractive. Tanned with curly dark hair and green eyes? Oscar was sitting in front of the love interest from any Y/A romance novel.
"It's okay, I get it," the man winked and all else was forgotten, "I'm quite a catch. But you don't look too shabby yourself, Mr. Piastri."
Oscar choked. The man across from him only laughed, sounding pleased with himself. Of course Oscar was not new to being referred to by the title, he was just… new to cute guys saying it. And especially new to cute guys saying it in public, where anyone could walk in and overhear.
"It's.. Oscar." Oscar pulled his hat back down, trying to cover his face with it. He hoped he wasn't blushing, despite knowing the smallest things made his face noticably red.
"Ohh, OsCah" the man said, almost sang, "Mr. Oscah Piastri, then?"
"ehm.." Oscar didn't know what to say, the man in front of him was clearly much more sociable than him. He felt outmatched. "Yeah?"
"And where are you from, Mr. Oscah Piastri?"
Was he flirting? This had to be flirting, right? But, in public? That didn't seem right. He could- maybe, just be being nice, but. This felt more. More.. flirty? More… Y/A-romance-novel-love-interest-like. Oscar didn't know how he felt about being the main character of some random queer romance. …but the guy was cute.
"I'm, uh, from.. Australia, originally, umm. I came here when I was a teenager to go to school, so… yeah."
The man in front of Oscar smiled, he leaned in a little, like a child invested in the television in front of him. "Well, Oscah Piastri of the Down Under. I'm Lando Norris. Of, uh.. Here." He laughed again, and Oscar noticed that when he did, his nose scrunched and his eyes squinted. There was a gap between his front two teeth. Oscar couldn't help but smile, his tongue running over his own front teeth. A gap was, decidedly, much cuter than whatever was wrong with his two teeth.
"Nice to meet you," he said, quietly.
"You too, Oscah Piastri of the Down Under."
It took a lot out of Oscar not to laugh. The man in front of him was handsome, but was, clearly, also a dork. And in the fictional world in which Oscar Piastri WAS in some shitty queer Y/A romance story, probably written by some young adult who could barely hold down a relationship themself and was writing him as some sort of hyperideal version of himself, he would actually prefer to be paired with a pretty, green eyed, curly dark haired love interest that was also a major dork. It would add a little more realism to the story.
"You go to uni?" the man- Lando- asked, Pulling Oscar from his thoughts about gay romance novels. He coughed into his arm and cleared his throat before nodding, explaining to Lando that he went to the school just a few blocks from here, and that he was studying astrophysics.
"No way, mate. You've gotta be taking the piss."
Oscar's eyebrows kneaded together in worry.
"I mean, I knew you were smart, at least you look pretty smart, but astrophysowhateveryousaid. That's like. You've probably gotta be crazy smart for that. Like, top one percent of smart people ever."
Oscar felt the heat rise to his face again. He always blushed when people complimented his major, though in this case, he didn't know how much redder he could get before he popped or something. "Astrophysics," he corrected, pronouncing every syllable slowly, so Lando could catch them before changing the subject, hoping to flip the conversation and take some of the heat off of himself. "What about you? Do you study?"
"Uhh, yeah," Lando admitted, a hand raising to rub across across the back of his neck. He smiled an awkward, half mouthed smile. It was the quietest Lando had been since sitting down across from Oscar, a hint of realism in his bold and charismatic character. Peers did tend to feel a bit underwhelmed with their own majors after hearing about his. Which he hated, he didn't find his major to be better than anyone else's.
"Well?" Oscar asked after Lando neglected to elaborate further. He was naturally curious about what someone like Lando could achieve. It was Lando's turn to look out the window, but Oscar knew that tactic well enough to know there was nothing more interesting out there than the conversation going on inside. Not the birds, not the clouds, not the cars.
"Pyrotechnics," he said after a while, his eyes meeting Oscar's after that, searching for something. "With a film minor."
"Pyrotechnics?" Oscar asked, leaning forward to ensure he'd heard Lando correctly and pushing his cap back so he could properly see. That definitely wasn't something he heard often. Or ever, actually.
"Yeah," Lando confirmed, his face lighting visibly, assumedly finding what he was looking for: engagement. "I want to make fireworks and stuff. And, y'know, also make films and take pictures. Then I can make films and take pictures of my fireworks."
It sounded like Lando had it all figured out, then. Of course Oscar had never met anyone else invested in going down such a path. Pyrotechnics was for people who burned like the sun. Those people were few and far between. All maintaining their own ecosystem of peers.
"Thats cool, really. Really cool," Oscar admitted, "So, umm, what all do pyrotechnicians do?" He knew the word was associated with fireworks, but not much else.
Lando shrugged, which caused Oscar to squint. "Just fireworks, really. Well, and pyrotechnics, I guess, but, fireworks are way better." Oscar opened his mouth, but Lando continued, "Pyrotechnics are just lame fireworks. Indoor, controlled," Lando paused, then added "Boring."
Oscar nodded, and opened his mouth again. "You've made fireworks?"
Lando smirked, looking proud of himself, "I've made a few. They're not perfect, but, y'know, they explode." He shrugged, clearly trying to seem humble, but the smug grin on his face gave away how he really felt.
"You're proud of yourself. Good," Oscar said, smiling now, a closed mouth smile that didn't expose his teeth, "You should be. It's impressive. You'll have to show me sometime."
Now it was Lando's turn to blush. His smile was softer and more genuine, less of his teeth showing but the gap there all the same. Oscar was tan for a British man, but his cheeks tinted pink despite it. Oscar found his fingers picking at the bill of his hat as he tried not to let the sight of Lando's blush make himself do the same.
"sometime soon, Sure. I'll let you know when I have something coming up." Lando said, wiping his nose with his sleeve, very likely as a way to force down the smile underneath. With the smile gone, and Lando now making a very serious face, he scooted his chair further, leaning in so close that Oscar could see the honey brown rings around his pupils. "So," he began, smirking again. Oscar felt a chill in his spine, "Astrophysisist Oscah Piastri of the Land Down Under," Lando began, making sure to overpronounce every syllable in the word. His eyes gleaming, "What are you eating?"
Oscar looked down at his barely touched muffin, now embarrassed that he'd forgotten all about it. He took a sip of his (only now remembered) hot chocolate and answered, his voice low. "A… choc chip muffin.."
"You know," Lando began, meeting Oscar's eyes once again, "They say you can learn a lot about a guy based on what kind of muffin he likes."
Oscar's eyes dropped to his half eaten muffin. He had another sip of hot chocolate, buying himself time to think. "Well, this is just cause they were sold out of everything else." Lando looked around the bakery. It was empty aside for the two of them and the woman working the register. Oscar knew that. "It's busy in the mornings," Oscar clarified, finally taking another bite of his muffin now. He continued, after swallowing, saying, "If you come in after the rush, you get the place mostly to yourself," he gestured, "like this. But they haven't had enough time to remake everything that you might want. So you take what you can get."
Lando had been looking deep into Oscar's eyes as Oscar spoke. Somehow taking in each word, genuinely listening to it. He nodded when Oscar was done, asking when the rush was. Oscar explained what he knew. Rush didn't mean full bakery or lines, it meant customer after customer coming into order and leaving. And it lasted quite a while because everyone thought this was their spot.
Lando asked if Oscar worked there. Oscar responded that he just liked to analyze trends.
"So you just.. Analyze everyone that comes in here, then?" Lando asked, those green eyes boring into Oscar's.
"No." It came out sounding more defensive than he wanted it to. Instinctually, he pulled his hat down.
"Well, I've been analyzing you, Oscar," Lando said, leaning in, and it was the first time Lando just said his name. "Do you know what I've found?"
Oscar was curious, he could feel his face growing hot. Lando had leaned in close like he was going to tell Oscar a secret. Oscar leaned in as well. "What?"
"You spend too much time hiding behind this thing," Lando reached forward, Oscar furrowed his eyebrows, trying to decipher what Lando meant, when he felt it. Fingers, warm, brushing against his hair. Then the cold. Cold air. Lando had his cap.
Oscar froze.
Lando twisted the hat in his grasp like it was something valuable. He ran a finger, almost teasingly, across the seam, read the label. An evil, grimlin like smile grew wider onto his face before he lifted the hat and placed it unceremoniously onto his own head.
It didn't look right on Lando. It sat uncomfortably, pushing his curls in ways they didn't seem to want to be pushed. Hiding them.
But there was something in Oscar's chest. Something deep down and biting that he didn't know how to name. The hat didn't look good on Lando. But Lando looked good in the hat. In Oscar's hat.
Oscar felt himself swallow, unable to tear his eyes from the man in front of him. Unable to decipher how this made him feel.
"I look good?" Lando asked, and Oscar nodded, flushing.
Oscar was overloaded, his face was hot, his stomach fluttering. He'd never been flirted with by a guy in a public space like this before, he didn't even know how Lando was able to clock him as gay. And now?
Lando was using his phone to see how he looked in Oscar's hat, adjusting it to the way he wanted, turning back to Oscar only after he had it "perfect." "You look good too," his eyes sparkled. Oscar's stomach flipped. "I can actually see you now."
Instinctually, a hand went to where the bill of his cap would lay. No hat. Oscar hid his face in his hands. Lando was saying something. Oscar could hear it, but his brain wasn't working to decipher it. His brain just wasn't working anymore. How long had they been here? Probably not even ten minutes. Less than ten minutes in and Oscar could feel himself falling for a stranger.
"Keep it." He heard himself say.
"The cap?"
Oscar nodded. He didn't mean to, he didn't know why he did, but he had other caps. He'd be fine.
Lando smiled. A closed mouth smile, but still a smile. Oscar still saw the way the light glinted in his eyes when he did.
"Thanks, mate," Lando said.
"No problem."
And for a moment, there was silence. Oscars stomach untwisted itself, the heat finally draining from his face. Both of them ate, and Oscar tried really hard not to think about how much they looked like they were on a date right now.
Then Lando spoke. "That wasn't how the muffin thing was supposed to go."
"What?"
"You were supposed to say, 'what does it say about me?'"
Oscar leaned in like being closer to Lando would make whatever he was saying make more sense.
Lando smiled, open mouthed, gap flashing, and continued, as Oscar had another bite of his muffin. "I said you could tell a lot about a guy by his muffin. You were supposed to say 'oi, what can you tell about me?'," and Oscar couldn't help but snicker at Lando's pushed Australian accent and deepened voice, "Then I would say 'that you like chocolate chip muffins' and you would laugh and swoon over me even harder."
And Oscar did laugh. And deep within him, he knew he was swooning as well. This guy was bold, even in public, like he didn't care what someone might say. Oscar's face felt hot, but he almost didn't care. He almost didn't care.
Until bell rang. Someone walked in. He reached for his hat. No hat. Panicking, he covered his face with his hands. He could see Lando through the gaps if his fingers looking around like he was scared Oscar thought the new customer was a threat.
"You alright?" Lando asked eventually, concern in his voice, and Oscar, still not raising from his hands, nodded.
He wasn't alright. He felt naked, unable to hide from the outside world that had just entered his fantasy. Lando, until this point, had been a novel character. A person of fiction. But now this was real. Everything around him was real. Oscar wanted to melt into a puddle and die.
"Oscar, look at me."
Oscar spread his fingers, not willing to pull his hands from his face.
"What's wrong. Do you know him."
Oscar glanced over. It was an older man, balding, with dark skin and grey hair. He was ordering bread.
"No." Oscar concluded.
"Then what's wrong?"
Oscar didn't say anything. What could he say? 'You made me laugh a little too hard and blush for a little too long and forget that we live in a world where gay isn't always okay'? No, of course he couldn't say that. That would be admitting something he wasn't able to get himself to admit about a man he'd just met.
Oscar pushed his fingers together, cutting Lando off from the eyes he could feel Lando searching.
"Oh," Lando said like he had read Oscar's mind and somehow hheard how ashamed of himself Oscar was.
He opened his fingers, just enough to see Lando. To see the slightly raised corners of his mouth that immediately straightened out. Lando stood and Oscar nearly jumped. What? was he just going to leave? After all of this?
But Lando didn't leave. He walked back over to the tweed basket, grabbing a few napkins, and standing between Oscar and the man.
No longer was Lando sitting across from Oscar and looking into his eyes. He was shielding Oscar now. Blocking him off from the man and therefore from the outside world. Oscar tried not to let the gesture fluster him.
He pulled his face out of his hands, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. He glanced up at Lando, who was already looking down at him, a gentle, thin lipped smile on his face.
"Thanks," Oscar nodded, his voice quiet. Ashamed.
"No problem."
It was awkward. The talking, joking, flirting. It all stopped, leaving only the sound of the man at the till. Oscar became conscious of his heartbeat, of his breath. What was he doing here? Falling in love with a stranger?
Oscar kept sipping his hot chocolate, picking at and eating small bites of his muffin between the sips.
By the time the man left and Lando returned to his seat, Oscar was worried that his outburst had ruined the moment. When Lando took the last few bites of his croissant without saying anything, it only solidified the Australian's fear. He finished his hot chocolate with his eyes on the table, trying to figure how he would excuse himself.
Right as he was planning on clearing his throat and wrapping the rest of his muffin for later, Lando spoke.
"Sorry, I didn't know you weren't out yet."
Oscar's ears burned at the thought. He didn't know what to say. The last thing he wanted was to leave from here in bad terms with Lando, but he had already made things so awkward. "I'm sorry," was all he could manage.
"Dont-don't be sorry," Lando assured, "I wouldn't have- if- if I knew, I wouldn't have- uh… you were so open with me, I just thought."
"I'm sorry," Oscar said again, taking another small bite of his muffin. Lando made a grim face.
"Don't be." Lando said, "I get it."
Oscar looked at his phone, pretending check the time. He had nowhere to be, but he stood anyways.
"I really have to go now." He said, "I'll see you around?"
Lando frowned, then pressed his lips into a line. "Sure, mate. Fireworks. Soon."
Oscar nodded, smiling one last time, and getting one last, beautiful, genuine smile out of Lando before making his wait out the door with his half eaten muffin in his hand.
The bell rang, and he tilted his head down, watching the floor as he walked past the window, knowing lando was sitting right inside, looking at him, still wearing the hat Oscar could no longer shield himself with.
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ CHAPTER TITLE || The Ocean in the Stranger's Eyes
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── SURFER ! OSCAR PIASTRI / MERMAN ! LANDO NORRIS
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── Remember to leave a comment / reblog. Kind words help motivate
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I don't know anything about surfing,, sorry
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ Oscar goes home, and realizes he never asked the stranger's name
wc 2.3k | Prev | Next | Ao3 link
Oscar followed the stranger's gaze, the cool beach wind pressing against him, he could feel the hair that was pressed to his face with moisture starting to dry, a subtle hint at just how long Oscar had been talking to this stranger.
"Yeah.." he muttered watching the sun on the horizon, because the stranger was right. Exactly like that one. And if the wind kept at it, this set would be perfect. Oscar padded slowly away from the rock, his eyes staying glued to the rolling water in the horizon. "Just like that," He echoed, glancing back towards the stranger who was still anchored to the rock. When he met the man's eyes, they were already on him. Watching with interest, and whatever else lay underneath those delicate, mysterious eyes. It seemed that Oscar had a show to put on. A judge to entertain. He'd better get out on the water, then. Before he missed all the good waves.
Oscar shifted on the board, going from his previous seated position to a paddling set. The coming wave passed underneath him as he pushed himself further into the ocean, away from the groupings of rocks where he had met the stranger. The next wave was already building, Oscar could see it. He could feel, hear, the ocean rumbling as it came in. It was faster than Oscar was expecting, maybe even too fast. On a normal day, catching this wave would have been no problem for the Australian, but trying purposely to time a wave like this improperly? Oscar stood, but he couldn't get his footing, couldn't take control of his board. The ocean, cold and unforgiving as it could be at times, shoved him into the water, enveloping him with a splash.
His second attempt was no easier, and performed with no better outcome.
With the third wave, Oscar forgot that he was purposely throwing his performance, and managed to stick the trick he had meant to do the first time, riding the wave into white water before remembering his audience wanted to see something else entirely. Each time, before going returning to the spot, Oscar would go back out to the rock, explain what he had done wrong, and try again.
It was on the fourth attempt that Oscar managed to recreate his previous shortcoming. The latency, the airtime, the splash, the pull. It all felt right. Every other surfer on the beach had gone at that point, the ocean and the sky reflecting darkness onto each other, the disappearing sun tossing just enough light onto both that Oscar could still see. Could still paddle back out to the rocks with a grin on his face, for while all the other surfers were gone, he knew there was one other person on the beach he could share the success with.
"That was amazing," the tanned man said. He was leaning over the rock now, Oscar could only imagine, holding his entire body out of the water with just the strength of his arms. It wouldn't be too surprising, the man was muscular, Oscar could see that even in the dim lighting, his torso especially. A swimmer's build if he'd ever seen one. "I mean it was just so… awesome. Amazingly awesome. Crazy cool."
Oscar felt himself blush again. The compliments were elementary, but weren't elementary words the most genuine of them? He only hoped that it was dark enough that the swimmer couldn't see, the same way he could no longer see The Ocean in the Stranger's Eyes.
"I wish I could do that," The curly haired stranger continued, wistfulness in his voice. He stayed in his same position, arms tucked under him as he leaned over the rock. He could no longer see the detail in the stranger's eyes, but he could see the shine in them.
"Surf?" He asked, trying to keep himself in the moment, and the man nodded. It wasn't the first time someone had expressed to him a desire to learn the activity. Far from it, the same longing was often shared with him by onlookers after competitions or wide-eyed children on the beach. He always understood. He too, had been a wide eyed child, tired of RC cars, and curious about the ocean. But this? This was the first time Oscar felt a strong desire to teach, to share what he knew of his sport with another.
"I could show you, if you want," Oscar heard the words fall from his tongue before he had the chance to think them through. "It would be a bit before you could pull off something like that, but-"
Before he could finish his thought, the stranger shook his head, "I cant surf. I have a.. uhm.. Dis.. di… differing ability?"
"A disability?" Oscar asked, his accent coming off especially strong with the word. He noted that this seemed to be the third time the stranger had struggled or faltered to find his words.
"Yes, disability." the man agreed, "can't surf."
Oscar had met plenty of disabled surfers in his day, but he was smart enough to know that not all disabilities were the same. If the guy said he couldn't surf, it wasn't a surfer's job to push. Though he did have to wonder about the man's swimming abilities, if he was all the way out here.
"Its getting pretty dark," Oscar changed the subject awkwardly. a hand finding the hairs at the back of his neck. "You want a ride back?"
The swimmer, again, shook his head, now concerning Oscar. It was getting cold, and he hadn't once seen the stranger move from the rock.
"Are you sure? Is there.. something related to your condition?" Oscar had never heard himself so eager to help someones case, but he'd also never met someone who stayed clung to a rock in the ocean till sundown. He tried to reason with himself that this would be normal of anyone in such a position.
"I live right back there." The man pointed towards the beach on his side of the rocks. "When you leave, I will swim home."
"Okay," Oscar said after a moment of silence. "Im going to head home now, then,"
"Farewell," the stranger said.
"Uh, yeah, mate. Bye."
Oscar turned back around on his surfboard. The sun was a mere sliver of fire on the horizon line, and the chill of the water was starting to eat at Oscar's bones. The sky, though, was still. No more wind, no more waves, He padded back to shore, the ocean shushing around him like it was ready to sleep. Oscar caught himself about to rub his eye. Maybe he was ready for sleep as well.
When he made it to shore, he turned around, hoping to wave one last goodbye to the stranger, but he was gone. The rocks were still, lit dimly in the setting sun, no longer sporting the silhouette of a stranger.
He turned back around, untethered his ankle, and after gathering all his things, headed off the beach.
His right hand met his left thigh as his left hand remained on the wheel. The pad of his thumb sweeping across his thigh. Thinking. His car hummed underneath him, waiting for the harsh red light to switch to the equally unnatural green. When it did, Oscar's foot met the gas pedal. He was tired, and very glad that was the last traffic light for this path home.
Oscar had never caught the stranger's name.
He wasn't sure if it even mattered now. His foot lifted from the gas. Oscar had frequented this beach enough to know that there were two kinds of people you met on the beach. People you already knew, and people you'd never see again. His blinker added a steady clicking to the air, a sound layered on top of the engine's hum. Oscar tried to replicate the sound of the ocean's waves crashing onto the sand in his mind.
It was possible, maybe, that the swimmer had recently moved there. He'd mentioned being able to swim home, and Oscar knew of a house just off the coast. It was a little far for swimming distance, but it had recently gone for sale. Oscar had always fantasized about living there.
Oscar pulled into his parking space, smile still pressed to his lips, never fading. Maybe he would see the stranger again. And if not?
He unlocked the front door, turning the light on and stepping out of his shoes once he was inside. If not, Oscar would always have those elementary compliments. 'Amazingly awesome' 'Crazy cool'. It wasn't every day that a grown man went out of his way just to say those things to you.
Oscar felt heat rise to his face all over again.
He propped his board on the wall and made his way into the kitchen. The area was small, but that was truly no bigger than it needed to be. It wasn't like Oscar was sharing his space with anyone. He opened his freezer, the chill helping calm the heat in his face.
He took two cubes from the freezer, setting them in a clean petri dish before adding two drops of fish vitamin. This was his typical home routine. frozen bloodworms for his fish, then dinner for himself. He was sure his fish were hungry by now.
As he waited for his fish dinner to thaw. He returned to the fridge. There was about half a zucchini left, and after grabbing a knife, he cut a few slices from the larger piece, also for the fish.
It was after the zucchini was cut but before the bloodworms were done thawing that Oscar was ready to find himself something to eat. He yawned, his body finally starting to slow on him. His meal would need to be quick and simple, and luckily, he found a can of soup in the pantry.
By the time the soup was on the stove, the bloodworms had thawn enough to go into the turkey baster, and further, into the tank.
In a way, Oscar's fish were his livelihood. His companionship when he wasn't surfing. He checked the tank temperature first, making sure nothing had gone wrong while he was away, then dropped the bloodworms and zucchini slices in the water. Watching afterwards as his fish crowded the drop zones for their meals.
Oscar was no professional fish keeper, but he did pride himself on the care of his fish. On the care of anything that reminded him of the ocean. This tank, with its perfectly placed heaters, bubblers, sand, and plants, was just one example of that. The most time consuming example, other than his competitive hobby.
After watching his fish eat, and ensuring that all of them got enough food, Oscar returned to the pot in the kitchen. His soup wasn't done cooking yet, but he could at least retrieve the utensils for when it would. It didn't take much longer for the soup to be done.
Eating soup always made Oscar feel like he was the fish. In a way, it was almost comforting. The ocean a big, elaborate bowl of soup, and Oscar taking what he needed from it. He checked the time while he was eating, noting that he still needed a shower. It was nearing eleven and while Oscar did tend to prefer to spend the end of his day watching something to wind down, or even playing a game, going home to immediately shower and go to bed wasn't unheard of for the surfer. Tonight, he figured, it was probably his best course of action.
He sat in front of his aquarium while he ate, watching his fish as they went about their nights. Oscar wondered, as he often did, what fish thought about, but he appreciated them for not burdening Oscar with their concerns. Not verbally, at least.
Fish were textbook. If something was wrong, Oscar would know. He didn't have to be told.
He stood, taking his bowl to the sink and washing it, along with the pot and the utensils he'd used to feed his fish. It was also part of his routine, and left no pile of unkempt dishes in his sink. Afterwards, he went to shower.
Water clothes went in a specific basket, really because those were the only clothes Oscar would consistently wash. Anything that had been in the ocean really started to smell after a while, but any other clothes, the clothes he wore home from the beach as to not sit in uncomfortable moisture, or the clothes he wore on days he couldn't surf, found their way anywhere else. Probably to be worn two or three more times before they saw a real wash.
The shower was warm, very unlike the water at the beach. Water that you eventually get used to the cool temperature of, but water that never stops being cool.
The warm water dripped down, sliding from his hair down his body, not hugging him like the ocean did, just cleaning him. Cleaning the ocean from him so that he would be new to it the next day. Clean, and ready to go again.
The image of eyes came into his mind. Blue, reflecting the ocean around, detailed like a thousand shards of glass, would Oscar see those eyes again the next day? Would they be new to him like the embrace of the water the next day? He hoped so. He lathered himself in soap, and he hoped so.
Oscar slept with a sound machine. One that played, on a repeated track, the sound of waves crashing into the sand. A sound that Oscar knew so well at this point, it faded into a nothingness that was so much gentler than the piercing gaze of silence.
He didn't even realize that he fell asleep thinking about another, more beautiful, piercing gaze.
Hello everyone! Im looking for f1 roleplay, and I've yet to find a very good space to search for one
Im willing to roleplay nearly any driver and nearly any pairing.
Roleplaying is the next way for me to test out characterization in a low stakes environment, so while my Carlos or Franco in roleplays might take a while to feel accurate, it will help me feel more comfortable with the drivers and be able to write fic with them in the future
I'm going through something personal and it would help me to keep my mind off of it
I am kind of wanting to do a landoscar atm but that's absolutely not the only thing I'm willing to do
I prefer shorter responses, and by shorter, I mean not three pages worth of RP length. I do maybe 2-5 paragraphs per response, and I'm happy to get 2+ sentences from my partner
I have an f1 OC, if you prefer OC / OC, but she is a mechanic
^ Real driver / OC is iffy though and I'll probably say no
I'm okay with AUs and 18+ assuming you're at least 18 and the youngest I'm comfortable roleplaying with is 17, I'm 19
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ CHAPTER TITLE || The Ocean Through Glass Shards
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── SURFER ! OSCAR PIASTRI / MERMAN ! LANDO NORRIS
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── Remember to leave a comment / reblog. Kind words help motivate
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── This chapter is short but the next is much longer
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ Oscar is approached by a stranger who likes his surfing
wc 947 | Next chapter | Ao3 link
It wasn't until he heard the voice that he even noticed someone else was so far out. There weren't many surfers left, after all, and the ones that remained were lingering way back towards the shore. Many of them getting ready to leave, the ones who weren't, waiting for one last set before turning in as well.
That was what Oscar was doing. Hoping to get one last good wave in before heading home. Something that would make up for having to take the escape route on the last one. He was too far out to hear anyone else, but still, he heard.
"That was crazy."
Oscar stopped paddling, looking around. He saw no boards, no surfers, no boats, and certainly not any swimmers. Not this far out. Not with the way the ocean had darkened into its deeper tones and the sky was painting itself orange.
But Oscar knew he had heard something, and without realizing it, he had let the word fall from his lips. "Huh?"
"That. What you just did. it was crazy cool. Can you do it again?"
Oscar looked up, following the sound of the voice until he saw him. A swimmer, it looked like. He was draped over the rock, his arms wrapped around it like an anchor. He was tan. Oscar could see that in even the dying light, and his head was a wet mess of curls. He swam closer, a breeze flowing by, blowing saltwater into his face. Oscar wasn't bothered by it, and neither was the swimmer, it seemed.
Having made his way closer to the man on the rock, Oscar leaned forward, a hand to his ear. Something he always did when he couldn't hear exactly what someone had said to him. "Sorry," he began, "I-"
But before he could explain himself, the stranger was repeating.
"That thing that you did," The stranger gestured towards Oscar's surfboard, and then pointed towards the water. Oscar took note of the patterning that started faintly around his elbow and got darker the further down his hand. It was an interesting tattoo, unlike anything Oscar had seen before. "It was so cool," He continued, dropping his hand and now looking at Oscar, and Oscar felt compelled to pad even closer, moving until he was also at the rock, until he could see into the strangers eyes. They were like watching The Ocean Through Shattered Glass. Blueish, detailed, delicate. "Can you do it again? uh.. repeat it?"
This swimmer had an accent, he was no Aussie. The closest Oscar could place was British, though it wasn't exactly that. Maybe the accent of a specific region? Or the unique sound of someone who didn't natively speak English having learned somewhere in the UK. It was mystical no-matter where from. With a cadence that Oscar could only describe as being akin to the ocean itself. His voice washed over Oscar in calm, gentle waves. Yes. That was how Oscar, bobbing gently in the water off the coast of the beach, would describe the voice of the stranger he'd met here today.
The swimmer tilted his head, he seemed to be thinking, and Oscar realized he'd never answered the stranger's question. Heat had already risen to Oscar's face at simply being told something he did on the board was cool.
It was a common sentiment, Oscar was a skilled surfer, but it never failed to make him blush when someone called him over just to compliment him out of the blue. He scanned the horizon, trying to ignore the blush, trying to let the cool of the water steal the heat from his cheeks. He was reminded of the last thing he'd done on his board. The 'trick' the stranger found "so cool"
He was practicing, really. Oscar was a competitive surfer, and as such, he needed to practice competitively. Train himself. In surfing, a mistake could be the difference between a win and a wipeout, so naturally, Oscar was training his ability to come back from a mistake. In this case, recovering himself from bad timing.
When the wave came rolling underneath him, Oscar waited, not standing until he moments after the time the instinct urged him to stand. The board underneath him was barely cooperative, nose dunking underneath the water. Oscar leaned back, trying to pull his nose from the wave, but the ocean was moving faster than his board. To avoid falling in, Oscar flipped.Leaning down before tossing himself into the air. He felt the wind curl around him, smelled the familiarity of the salty water, and embraced the explosion of water and bubbles that embraced him in turn when he sunk into the ocean. He was tugged upward by his ankle. His surfboard.
Oscar felt his surfboard bob in the water underneath him and remembered where he was. He blinked, staring at the stranger in front of him before looking off into the reddening horizon. It looked like it was on fire. Oscar felt no wind. Saw no waves.
Oscar knew there was no way to guarantee the same execution on something that had happened essentially as a failure. But wasn't the joy of being a surfer to surf? He could try. As soon as the next set rolled in. Besides. The swimmer had complimented his skills and asked him nicely. Who would he be to say no?
"I can try," Oscar finally agreed, but we have to wait.
"Why?"
Oscar gestured vaguely. "The water."
the stranger nodded, something glinting in his eyes. "For waves?" he asked, meeting Oscars eyes. The wind picked up again, and the man broke their connected gaze, glancing into the distance. "Like that one?"
@animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Comment to be added to the taglist
Remember the reblogging with nice words help me to feel motivated to write more
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── Warnings - 18+/Smut, Dubcon, Jealousy (Oscar), unrealiable narrator (Oscar), possible coerced consent, Kinda somewhat public, Max F mentioned frequently
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── This is my first 18+ fic! Please be nice I beg
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ note: I wrote Lando in a way that you can read him however you want, from coerced, to willing from the beginning. Its up to you
wc 7.5k - ao3 link
"I'm going to start streaming in about... ten minutes, mate." Lando had pulled away from his gaming setup to look up at the taller man as he replied. Oscar had just been saying… something. Lando couldn't really hear with his headphones on, and by the time he slid them off, Oscar was done talking. "We'll chat later, yeah?" Lando continued, pausing for a moment to make sure Oscar didn't have a response brewing before sliding his headphones back on and rolling himself back to his desk. He glanced at the preview on his monitor, watching, from the view of his webcam, Oscar's lips press into a thin line, before he walked clean out of the frame. Lando didn't mind it. He knew that Oscar didn't like to be involved in anything he could consider 'media work', and being seen in the background of a livestream was something Oscar tended to consider just that.
Lando turned his attention to his desktop, waiting for the call from his best friend. His affinity for the man was no secret, and Lando found himself more often not even wanting to stream if he wasn't going to be streaming with Max. He was Lando's childhood friend, after all.
Moments later, the notification popped onto the screen. Max was ready. Lando was too. He picked up the call with a wide smile plastered on his face, and instantly jumped into conversation with the man. The livestream started very soon after, and Lando was able to seamlessly throw himself into his media persona.
Oscar watched from just out of the camera's frame. First, he stood, arms crossed. leaning against the wall, but after a few minutes of listening to his partner shout into the microphone, he moved to the couch. It was further from Lando's setup, but only thirteen steps away from where Lando was sat. Close enough.
He could still see Lando. Still hear every word come out of the shorter's overenthusiastic mouth. It took on a slightly higher pitch when Lando was with Max. It did the same sometimes, when he was with Oscar. It meant he was having fun. Oscar had learned lots about Lando from watching him like this during streams. His eyes would focus on the back of his head. His hair, if he didn't have a hoodie on, and occasionally, his side profile. But beyond that, he took these chances to learn everything he could about Lando's relationships with his streaming friends. He would listen to Lando yell, angry that he had died or calling for backup from Max and whoever else he might be playing with at the time.
From the sounds of it, this time was just Max.
Oscar always told people he wasn't jealous of Max. He'd squeeze his hand, pick at the skin on his finger, take a sip of water to try to end the conversation there, but he'd always say he wasn't jealous. For some reason, it was a hot topic in their relationship. Everyone from reporters to family friends wanted to know if there was any tension regarding the two of them. They asked how Lando could have two people so different at two of the highest positions in his life. And if it caused any drama between them.
Oscar thought that was stupid. The whole concept of the 'how could Lando find importance in two different people' interview questions. 'If everyone only liked one type of person, the world would be boring,' he'd respond if he was live or answering for PR. Otherwise, he'd just say that it was dumb to ask and move on. Max was Lando's coworker and his best friend, but Oscar was his teammate and his lover. Oscar had been chosen for this role, and Max for that one. Why fight?
That was what Oscar said, at least.
But sometimes, the way that Fewtrell seemed to open an entirely new side of Lando, one that Oscar only saw during these livestreams or some other of special event, one that would laugh at twenty five different things over the course of five minutes, made Oscar feel inadequate. He looked around, trying for something to distract himself. Lando was being too loud for Oscar to read or watch Netflix, and getting on the sim would require being in Lando's space. A sigh, a gentle one, exited his body as his eyes rested again on Lando.
Oscar loved Lando. Loved how responsive Lando was. He could hold the older man underneath him and make him squirm, pushing his hips up in a desperate search for friction. He could have him literally whining, begging for attention and release without having even been touched. Words alone, when Oscar used them right, could bring Lando nearly to his edge, eyes wet with a plea for Oscar. Images of Lando like this flashed through Oscar's mind. Shaking, gasping for air post orgasm, squeezing the sheets under him so tightly his knuckles went white. It was Oscar that got him in positions like this. Oscar's name Lando would scream at night.
But Oscar couldn't do for Lando what Max could do.
Yes, Oscar could make Lando light up. Lando would smile and greet him with love surging every feature of his face when Oscar walked into the room, But that smile was nowhere near as bright as the smile Max would get when Lando got to see him in person. The hugs, usually, weren't as tight. Oscar could make Lando moan-- and make him quite loud, in his own opinion-- but he didn't make his boyfriend laugh at the volumes that Max did. Not with the reverence that Max did.
Oscar glanced away from Lando. Away from the stream. He could still hear the giggles that were turning into full grown laughs. He thought about the lie detector, the way that, holding back a fit of laughter, Lando had admitted that Oscar wasn't a funny teammate. Lando's laughs only got louder. Oscar's face didn't change as he listened. A part of him wondered what Max had said to get Lando to laugh like this. But he wasn't going to ask.
His eyes flitted back to Lando. First landing on his hair, then drifting downwards, zeroing in on his throat as he seemed to come down from his current fit of laughs. Oscar's eyes were sharp, somewhat predatory. Like a hawk with his sights on a hare. Sometimes, when Lando and Max did streams like this, Oscar considered doing something out of character. His mind would run away from him with ideas of getting up, walking into the shot of the camera, and kissing Lando. Making out with him even. Feeling him up on camera. Anything to remind the audience— to remind Max— that Lan, his Lan, was spoken for.
Sometimes it got darker. He'd imagine turning off the stream and taking Lando. Sometimes, he'd imagine not even giving Lando the chance to turn off the stream. His body stirred with the idea. Make Lando pretend nothing was wrong, you know, to keep up with his press representation, while having the time of his life right under the view of the camera. Wouldn't that feel so much better? Fuck...
Oscar stood from his place on the couch, made his way briefly into the kitchen before returning with a glass of water, deliberately stepping into the frame of Lando's stream.
Lando turned around, smiling widely, and greeted Oscar immediately.
God, Lando must have had the purest, most joy filled smile in the world. It was a face Oscar would never get enough of. Not in a million years.
"Hi Oscar!" He turned back to his stream. "Chat, say hi to Oscar."
Oscar could see the comments rushing by. White letters stacking in such a hurry that none of the individual messages could be read. Graphics popped onto the stream, most of them with more lines of text underneath. He kept his face composed, a skill Oscar had learned long ago, and set the glass on the corner of Lando's desk.
"Make sure you drink, yeah?" he said flatly, causing Lando's face to soften and him to look at the younger man like he was a fairy god-mother or something.
"Thank you, Osc," Lando replied, the stupid look still on his face.
Oscar didn't respond with words. He simply pressed his head into Lando's hair, kissing his scalp gently. His eyes focused on the monitor, still sharp as a hawk. As he pulled away, the chat on the screen continued to rush by.
Lando just chuckled, looking up at Oscar, "'m surprised you're sticking around, osc."
"Wanted to see you."
The older looked away from the camera, definitely trying to hide the blush Oscar could see creeping up his neck. "M- uh- Max said hi."
"Okay." Oscar didn't gaf.
Lando looked back at him, and stared for a while longer, probably expecting him to walk back out of frame now that he was seemingly done with what he had come in to do, but eventually he turned back to his game. Oscar stayed right there.
Some time after he had started playing again, Lando shifted, maybe uncomfortable, "You can sit down, you know?" He looked up at oscar again, his eyes as soft as always, "You don't have to stand, mate."
"I'll stand," Oscar stated, a hand reaching around Lando's chair to rest on his shoulder. A gentle touch. It didn't mean anything.
He watched the colours of the game flash across Lando's screen. Some shooter, but it wasn't something Oscar recognized. The minified image of Max in the bottom corner, A second monitor held a bigger image of the comments that were being left, each one still flying by.
"Chat is really booming, Osc," Lando chuckled, looking up and over at the man beside him. "You're really good for our views."
Oscar nearly rolled his eyes, he couldn't give a shit about views, he just wanted Lando. He changed the subject, pointing at the ground. "What's that?"
"What do you mean?" Lando's eyebrows furrowed, checking the space under his desk where his partner was pointing. He could hear Max saying something, muffled by the cup of the headphones.
"This," Oscar repeated, making his way to Lando's side and reaching over him to point at nothing, purposely brushing his entire arm against Lando's crotch on the way down. He felt Lando shudder, and had to press his lips together to hold back the smirk forming at his lips.
Lando stuttered. "I-"
"Oh, nevermind." Oscar stood back up, dragging his arm right back along the same path, "just a trick of the light."
Lando closed his eyes, he let out the most content sigh Oscar had ever heard before sitting up and trying to zero in on the stream. Oscar could see the way his eyes narrowed in on the monitor. His fingers fumbled, but eventually met the right keys. He could see the mini image of Max moving in the corner of the screen, and then Lando let out slightly awkward, definitely forced laugh. It almost made Oscar smirk, clearly Lando's train of thought wasn't with Max right now.
He glanced down at Lando's crotch, looking for any evidence Lan's body had enjoyed that, then pressed his lips together and peeled away from Lando's side.
"I think I do want to sit down."
Lando glanced over at him, a tap to the keyboard pulling the menu and pausing the game. "Like, over here? You want to stay in the stream?"
Oscar nodded.
"Uhh…" Lando began, looking around the room, devoid of any nearby extra seats, before directing to the microphone, "Hey Max, I'm going to find Osc somewhere to sit. I'll be right back." Then he turned to Oscar, taking his headset off. "I mean, do you wan't to sit on the beanbag chair? Its not really tall enough to be seen, but you can still-"
"Sure."
Lando paused for a second, seeming, maybe taken aback, though Oscar wasn't sure if that was by the fact that he wanted to stay, or the fact that he's interrupted Oscar, since he didn't usually do either. Eventually, continued, "Righto.." and pulled himself over his chair. Oscar looked back at the screen as Lando scrambled off into his room.
Max, in the bottom corner, was waving at Oscar, gesturing for him to put on Lando's headset. Oscar, straight-faced, did so,
"Oscarr, You alright, mate?"
Oscar nodded.
"You and Bob move in together, then?"
For some reason 'bob' meant Lando. Oscar nodded, and then shrugged, shaking his head, "Uhm. Yeah, no, not really. We stay here sometimes, we stay at mine sometimes, why?"
Max shrugged it off, "Just curious, mate. Bob talks about you a lot more, guess you're here when he's streaming more often. Keep forgetting to ask 'im about it."
"Yeah." Oscar picked at the skin on his thumb just out of frame.
Something flashed onto Lando's screen and a robotic voice started asking Oscar questions, he took a step back, mainly not wanting to answer them, and turned to look back towards Lando's room. Grabbing that bean bag chair sure was taking him a minute.
"Guys, no. Don't start interrogating him, this isn't his stream," Oscar heard Max say, before turning his attention back to Oscar, "I saw you at your last race, you did really well, mate. Wanted to congratulate you but you really have a way of disappearin'. Glad I could say it now though, great racing out there. Cheers."
"Mh. Thanks, mate, cheers." Oscar tried to smile at Max, while still picking at his fingers just the cameras view. He was well aware that every movement he made now was being watched, monitored. This was just as much PR work as the post-race interviews. He knew he had to be careful.
"Got it!" Lando shouted from his room, rushing back down the hall with an awkwardly large bean bag chair in his arms. He tossed it on the floor and a thin layer of dust plumed into the air.
"You need to sweep," Oscar remarked, knowing it was hypocritical, but also knowing that he, for some reason, had a reputation for being cleaner than Lando. Or at least, the fans had a reputation of assuming he was cleaner than Lando.
Lando just scoffed, rolling his eyes, but changing the subject. "Sorry for taking so long. Couldn't find it. It was under my bed."
Did Oscar ever mention how much he loved Lan's smile? The thin gap between the two front teeth, the way the hair on his face seemed to accessorize his other features. It wasn't rare that his boyfriend smiled at Oscar, but every one it felt one in a million.
"What did Max say?" Lando continued, still smiling his stupid little Lando smile
"Huh?"
"Max..? What did he say? Through the headset?"
Oscar blinked like he'd just remembered where he was
"Oh. Uhm— He- he congratulated me was all." Oscar removed the headset, holding it out for his lover, "You can have it back now."
Lando looked confused, he gingerly retrieved his headphones, but his eyebrows were knit together, eyes squinted a little. Oscar didn't understand why Lando was looking at him like that. He looked down at the beanbag chair on the floor and mentally mapped where it would need to be to stay hidden.
He kicked at the bean bag chair until it was where he wanted before ducking down into it. He could see that the very top of his head made it into frame, but it disappeared when he hunched himself over. Lando furrowed his eyebrows together, glancing to the side at Oscar. "You want to sit there?"
"Yeah."
The older opened his mouth, but closed it, pushing his lips together in weird ways, then he shrugged, "If that's what you want."
"It is."
"Right. Do you want me to sort the audio? So you can, you know, hear everything?"
Oscar didn't want that. Oscar wanted Lando underneath him, sweating, gasping, hungry for more- "Sure," Oscar shrugged.
Oscar didn't know what Lando was doing, but after a few seconds of his doing it, Oscar could hear soft music flowing through the air. It was eerie, but still. Pause screen music, no doubt. Max said something, Oscar didn't hear it, and Lando turned over to face Oscar on the floor. "Comfortable?"
Oscar nodded
"Alright. Max, I'm getting back in."
It made Oscar frown. Why did everything have to be about Max and getting back to him? Oscar wanted his boyfriend to himself. But Lando and Max went chatting away anyways.
The game lingo was no different now that Oscar could hear Max. Most of the things that Max said that inspired snorts and laughter from Oscar's partner, Oscar didn't find funny. He didn't give a start, either. He had something else on his mind.
He inched closer to Lando, noticing as the older man glanced down at him, just for barely longer than a split second. Lando didn't have the time to react. He was gaming. Live.
Before Lando knew it, Oscar's cheek was rested on his knees. Just out of the view of the webcam. Lando's eyes widened, but he couldn't look down. Oscar knew, and Oscar knew Lando knew. Any wrong move would have fans speculating about 'what Oscar was doing under the desk' well into their retirement. Lando had to play this off as nothing.
"Bloody hell," he grunted, fingers pushing into the keyboard with more force. Oscar's fingers found their way to Lando's thighs, pressing through the fabric of his jeans the same way. Lando's eyes flickered down again, his adam's apple bobbing. "Oscar, I think there's a.." His throat sounded dry, "bug."
"Is it on you?" Oscar decided to play along.
"Yeah.. on my knee. Get it?"
"Alright."
Oscar's hand only ran further up Lando's thigh, elaborate shapes pressed into the skin through the fabric of his jeans. He heard Lando try to disguise one of his beautiful sounds with a "mmhmm"
"Drink. I brought you that water for a reason," Oscar's tone remained perfectly still as he slowly pressed his palm into Lando's crotch. He was soft, but Oscar could feel him getting harder with just the touch. And more distracted, as Lando's character died, and Lando groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes.
He could feel Lando, soft, but already starting to harden.Oscar couldn't see the screen, but he assumed the sound he'd just heard was Lando's character dying. Lando pressed his palms into his eyes, groaning.
"Is it hard?" Oscar asked, feeling Lando shiver as the question left his mouth. He didn't have to looking at Lando to see the way the question made him glow with a faint red blush
"F-wh-" Oscar could feel Lando's cock starting to stir.
"Is it hard, or do you just suck?" Oscar clarified, feeling Lando relax, just slightly.
"Well, I do suck," Lando began, finally drinking from the glass that Oscar had brought him, "but I think its also starting to get a bit hard."
Lando wasn't talking about the game.
The words sent a jolt up Oscar's spine that made him nearly moan. This was real. For ages, Oscar had imagined doing this. Touching Lando while he was streaming. He had an entire array of different fantasies about doing just this, each organized by their plausibility and pleasurability. And now, Lando was playing horribly, because right under the view of the camera, looking up at him to catch any reaction, Oscar was starting to unzip his pants.
He felt Lando tense. Watched his eyes widen. He looked down, looked up, let out a strained, almost frustrated noise, and returned to his game.
"Maybe I'm worse at this game than I thought," Lando tried to reason, "I've caught myself getting too upset over this bloody game."
Max said something. Oscar didn't care what. He was taking care of what was his
A hand slipped into Lando's pants.
His Adam's apple bobbed.
He pressed try again.
The music of the game picked back up, Oscar heard the gunshots, heard the way Lando's hand fumbled each key he tried to press. Oscar, wanting another reaction out of Lando, wanting to hear another bit of proof that the shorter was his, wrapped his hand around Lando's length, still covered in the thin fabric of his boxers. Lando might have been a fumbler, but Oscar was strategic with his hands. Every finger fell right where Oscar wanted it to fall. Acute. Oscar knew that. He knew Lando knew it too.
He kept his hand mostly still, pleasure rising through his system as he allowed Lando to play at a fraction of his typical performance level. Each impossibly small movement pulled a small reaction from lando. A stroke made him shift, a squeeze made him shudder. Oscar's hands were barely moving, and yet Lando was reacting. Oscar wished he could plant his lips on Lando's and fuck him on the spot.
Lando grew hesitant, pausing each time he opened his mouth as if he didn't trust Oscar to not ruin any chances he had at speaking. It was nearly impossible to hear, but the faint shake in Lando's voice sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through Oscar. It was time to take things up a notch. He squeezed Lando's dick, harder than he had before, his chest welling with pride as Lando's head fell back. At the same time, his character died again, leaving Lando to bring his hands up in a motion that resembled a prayer, letting out a groan disguised as frustration. Good. That was a sign to keep going. With his free hand, Oscar tapped Lando's thigh twice, gently. A quiet sign, 'lift up'. It was time to take things further.
Lando didn't lift. He dropped his hands and respawned his character, grumbling to Max about the difficulty of the level. He shifted, adjusting himself. Cleared his throat. Oscar's jaw tightened as Lando stalled. Was he ignoring Oscar on purpose? Chosing Max? Oscar squeezed Lando's dick again, tighter this time, the idea of Lando ignoring him making Oscar see an almost white rage. He made Lando cough on the water he had just started drinking, making Oscar hesitate. He shouldn't overreact, but the tight of Lando ignoring him during a moment like this Made Oscar's teeth grind together. His lips pressed into a thin line.
Oscar tapped again. The same signal, but this time, firmer. Maybe Lando just hadn't felt it. Maybe he'd misunderstood. Oscar shouldn't get mad yet. Even if he could still feel the anger in the tips of his fingers.
Lando lifted this time, and the tight feeling in his chest immediately loosened. Lando wasn't ignoring him, he was actively choosing him over Max. Lando pushed himself upwards just enough for Oscar to pull his clothes down, but not enough to be seen on the screen as anything more than a slight shift.
"You fucking muppet!" he shouted at Max, still hovering just above his seat as Oscar slid his jeans down his legs, stopping at his knees "You totally threw me off, mate."
Lando tried to subtly remove his boxers, but Oscar grabbed his hand, holding it in place. "Focus on your game," He whispered, looking up at Lando, despite knowing he couldn't look down at him. Lando wasn't going to get what he wanted immediately after that. He was going to have to wait.
Despite the bits of anger and jealousy that still poked around inside him, making his fingers tingle and his stomach stir with the strange aroused mixture, Oscar took the time to behold Lando. Every detail of him. Lando was hovering just centimeters off his seat, his red boxers tented with a wet patch over his dick. Even through his boxers, Oscar could see that Lando's dick was twitching in need, which made his own cock stir in response, heat rising in him as arousal once again outweighed whatever emotion he was feeling before.
He could hear Max laughing at Lando's outburst, but couldn't bring himself to care. Max was nothing right now. Nothing but a small, mosquito like noise. He didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that there was one person who could make Lando feel like this, only one, and he was doing it. He was giving Lando the time of his life, just out of frame
He moved his hand, not to finally release Lando from his awkward seated stance, but to rub against Lando's still clothed cock. He heard the man groan, head falling forward. He sounded defeated. It was hot, he'd barely even touched Lando and it was already becoming too much for the poor, live, twitch streamer.
Max said something. Oscar dipped his head, pressing his tongue against Lando's dick, tasting his pre through his boxers and shivering with the sweetness of it. He relished in it. Max couldn't taste Oscar's precum.
"Don't want to play anymore," Lando grunted, "This game is rubbish."
"Keep playing," Oscar kept his voice low. He wasn't even really sure Lando could hear him, "Stop now and I won't touch you for a month." He still needed to be punished for that little scare.
Lando groaned again, clenching a fist, his knuckles white. He respawned, grumbling, "If I die again, I'm not fucking playing anymore, mate."
"Right, okay," he heard Max respond, "you wanna play something else or just end stream?"
"Lan."
"I.. " listening to Lando hide his moans with groans of frustration sent jolts through Oscar's spine, pooling in his lower stomach. "I'll play a bit longer, damnit."
Oscar smirked, "Good boy," he muttered, moreso to say it than to have Lando hear it. To verbally announce that his older teammate was his good boy. Lando would get his praise another way. This way.
He ran his thumb over the peak of Lando's boxers, feeling the moisture seeping through his to his fingers. He felt Lando shudder above him, imagining the way his bottom lip was probably pressed between his teeth. He was leaning forward slightly, maybe trying to hide it.
Finally, Oscar slid Lando's boxers down, just enough that his cock sprung free. He heard Lando pull air through his teeth, something he did a lot when pleasured, but watched his form finally relax, at least somewhat, as he lowered back into his chair.
"No, I stubbed my bloody fucking toe, you muppet." Lando's hostility made Oscar swell with pride. He didn't even hear what Max had said, he'd blocked out the game, and all the noise with it. But to know that Lando was snapping at Max due to the please Oscar was making him feel? That was hot.
He ran his index finger across the slit at the head of Lando's cock, taking a pleased note of both the way the small bead of liquid stuck to his finger, stretching into a thin string and the way Lando's entire body shivered with just the one touch. He knew
Oscar brought his finger, string still attached, to his mouth, tongue flicking out to taste the sweet fruit of his teasing. His finger going right back in when he was done.
This time, he chose to do more, his finger sliding up, around, back up, diagonally, diagonally, horizontally. He felt Lando move. Felt him react. All he had gotten in was the PIA, but Lando already knew he was being marked as territory. He squirmed. Oscar could tell his heart was racing.
Oscar kept going
S
Lando's fist slammed onto his desk, rattling everything on it.
T
Lando cussed
Oscar paused. Giving him a moment. He felt Lando breathe. With no warning, he drug his finger down vertically. The first line for his letter R.
Lando let out a moan. The first moan Oscar had heard slip today. He looked up at Lando, who shook his head, but didn't glance down. "I'm muted. I'll tell them it was an accident in a second. Let me have this."
Oscar didn't say anything. He didn't do anything. Lando had muted his mic just to moan for Oscar. It made his cock stir.
"Please." Lando begged, still not looking down at him. He sounded pathetic, desperate, and despite that, his eyes were locked onto the screen, fingers pressing into the keyboard. Lando was making a show of playing along. Oscar couldn't deny the poor man what he wanted.
his finger made another trip around. Lando whined. Oscar took note that these were closed mouthed sounds he was making.
"Osc, please"
"I'm almost done," Oscar whispered. It came out gently. Like he was consoling Lando. 'in almost done, honey. Let me finish writing my name on your cock, finish claiming you as mine under the seat while you 'spend time' with Max. Let me remind you that I'm the only man you'll ever want. Just two more letters'
Lando whined again, his desperate sounds making Oscar's cock feel hotter now, he had to rub his own legs together to get a little bit of friction, holding back a moan of his own. Hastily, he added the last line. A diagonal. R.
One more vertical line. Lando liked vertical lines the best, he reacted better to them. Probably because they ran perfectly down his slit. I. Lando moaned when he did it. The loudest moan Oscar had heard from Lando all day, open mouthed and all.
Just like that, Lando had been reclaimed. Renamed as Oscar's. His finger had pressed memories of who Lando belonged to right into the weeping head of his cock. It was delicious. It made Oscar needy for more. For more sounds, more reactions that would go straight to his cock. Oscar needed Lando.
But first, he had to reward Lando for being so good. For chosing Oscar over Max repeatedly.
"Scoot in more."
Lando did so.
For a moment, he just looked at the beauty of it. Of Lando's cock red and angry for Oscar, then, gladly, he took the length into his mouth. It was thick. Filling. And Oscar quietly moaned around it. Lando let out a shaky, frustrated breath, and Oscar took it as another bit evidence that Lando would always be his. He kept his eyes locked on Lando's face as sucked. He couldn't see perfectly from his position, but he could watch Lando's Adam's apple bob. Watch the way he squinted, leaned in some. Tried to play like a normal guy who wasn't hard and leaking with his dick in his boyfriends mouth right under the table. Like he hadnt given into Oscar. The best part was that Oscar could go in and see the whole thing from a different angle later. Lando's streams were always archived.
Oscar's tongue traced circles around the head of his cock. Oscar wasn't as experienced in giving head, but Lando's obedience earned him a special reward, Oscar grazed his teeth along Lando's cock, making him shudder again. Another closed mouth moan came out of him. Oscar shivered. He loved it when Lando made the kind of noises that made it known who he belonged to. Reminders that this was Oscar's. All Oscar's
"My bad," Lando spoke again. His voice shook, and if Oscar wasn't the one under the desk right now, he'd maybe mistake Lando for being on the verge of tears. "I- I must have pressed the wrong button. Didn't realize I was muted."
Now Oscar had to be quiet. Adrenaline pricking through his body at the knowledge that he couldn't risk a single slick sound or slurp being picked up by the mic and broadcasted to thousands of people. He had to change tactics, bobbing his head up and down, slowly, letting his tongue trace the underside of Lando's cock. The man groaned and cussed, keys being pressed harder than they were before.
Lando was by no means small, (not his dick, at least) especially not when he was like this. Oscar unhinged his jaw to take in more of Lando. It was awkward, unpracticed, but Oscar could still feel each shake and shudder of Lando's body. He took Lando deeper into his mouth, feeling the weighty rod twitch every time he tongue flicked across it. And relishing in the fact.
He got as far down as he thought he could without gagging before slowly dragging his mouth back upwards. Tongue grazing the path.
He must not have been doing too well, because Lando, above him, was now able to play like nothing was happening. Gunshots came from the speakers, Lando grunted.
Oscar adjusted his technique, first using a hand to pump whatever wasn't in his mouth, then going faster, sucking. The best reaction came when he drug his teeth across the underside of Lando's cock.
"Fuck. FUCK. That's it. Fuck this stupid game, mate, its all rubbish anyways. I'm done. Max, I'm done. I'm out, mate. Chat me later."
And it was all gone. The sound from the game, Max's voice, the texts from the viewers rushing by.
Oscar, won.
His body was ablaze with arousal. His cock aching hard. His body heavy with need and desire.
Lando finally looked down, meeting Oscar's gaze with a lustful stare. His voice only filled the younger with even more desire. "Oscar.." he groaned, his voice needy and desperate. Oscar pulled off Lando's cock.
"Yeah?"
"What-- gh- what was that for?" Lando's chest was rising and falling as if he'd just run run a marathon.
Cute.
They hadn't even gotten started yet.
Oscar shrugged. Lando's head rolled back. "Wanted to see you," Oscar finally answered, repeating his sentiment from earlier, but this time adding after a beat, "Like this."
He'd wanted to see Lando squirming, breathing heavily, cock red and leaking, completely forgotten about Max.
And here he was.
Oscar lowered right back to Lando's cock, this time not worrying about the noise.
His tongue grazed Lando's slit, savoring his pineapple-wrap induced sweetness.
"You taste so good, Lan," Oscar praised, knowing how it would affect Lando.
Lando, head still thrown backwards in pleasure moaned, his hand dropping into Oscar's hair and curling around a handful as close to his scalp as he could get it. A smile ghosted at his lips.
"You- you're such a- mmh- bastard," Lando gasped, his hips bucking upwards into Oscar's mouth. Oscar, slowly, pulled away from Lando's dick, a small string of his own saliva keeping him attached to it.
"You loved it "
Lando didn't respond.
Oscar stood, finally, and ducked down to connect his lips to Lando's, his tongue darting out to explore the area he already knew. Lando kissed back, soon after bringing his hand to Oscar's shoulder and pushing him away.
"Bastard," he breathed when their lips disconnected. The display earning a chuckle from Oscar, "Took you so long to think, you forgot you just said that, yeah?"
Lando rolled his eyes, pulling Oscar back in for the same kiss. Oscar, smugly, pulled away just before their lips met, making Lando whine. Oscar ghosted his lips over Lando's right ear, "Bedroom?" he asked, but it wasn't a question, and when Lando didn't move, he grazed his hand over Lando's cock to give him a jumpstart.
Lando made a choked noise and stood up from his chair, pants still around his knees. Oscar chuckled.
"Let me help you. pretty thing. Sit back down for me."
And Lando did so. So obedient for Oscar, sitting where he had just been as Oscar made his way back down to his knees. He took his time pulling Lando's pants down, dragging his boxers with them. He wanted to make Lando wait for it. Made things better in the long term.
He tossed Lando's pants and boxers to the side, before standing once again, "Bedroom," Oscar prompted once more, and this time, Lando stood up without making Oscar repeat himself.
Oscar watched, gaze as sharp as before, as he followed Lando to his bedroom, he kept composed despite the aroused mix running through him. Jealously still throbbed dully through his body, but different now, and overshadowed with an excitement and desire to make Lando his that didn't show up on his features. Oscar was about to have Lando.
He turned on the light and closed the door behind them. Finding, by the time he turned around, Lando already on the bed and reaching halfway across the nightstand for the small bottle of lube that he never bothered to put away.
"Eager?" Oscar asked, warm at the idea of Lando being so eager for him now when just a while he was- well. That wasn't important.
Lando just smiled in responce. Somehow, despite being naked from the waist down and holding a bottle of lube in his hand, Lando still managed too look a little bashful. His face was a little red, tooth gap just slightly exposed before he turned his head away. He handed the bottle out to Oscar as he came closer, but wouldn't look Oscar in the eye. The taller set the bottle to the side, moving himself even closer to the older and taking his chin in his hand, rubbing his cheek. Lando would look at him. Lando was his.
Oscar still looked dangerous, he still looked at Lando like prey, but the look was filled with arousal, and love. Lando looked back at him, his face, reflecting the same feelings. He reached out, taking Lando's cock in his hand, "I reckon I need to finish what I started earlier," he smirked as his grip tightened. Lando let out a strained noise, hips bucking upwards. Oscar only held him down.
Lando's dick wouldn't be able to take much longer. It was red, pulsing, practically dripping with arousal. Dripping with the fact that it was Only Oscar who made him feel this way. Lando squeezed his eyes shut as Oscar's grip tightened. He groaned. "Fuck, Osc, I-"
"Say the whole thing."
Lando opened his eyes, "What?"
"My name," Oscar's grip tightened. Lando gasped, tears pricking his eyes, "Say it."
"Oscar," Lando gasped, eyes pressed shut once again. "God, Oscar," he moaned.
It sent chills up Oscar's spine, the way Lando said his name like a prayer. Maybe that was why Oscar kept doing this. Kept making Lando say it. Maybe it was because if Lando came with nothing in his mind but Oscar's name, he'd hold him in a higher position in his life. Oscar would reckon it was a lot of both. Did it even matter when such arousing sounds were falling from Lando's lips?
"Oscar.." he repeated, this time a little strained, pleading, and Oscar realized he'd yet to let go. He softened his grip and dipped his head, wrapping his lips around Lando's tip. Lando took a sharp breath through his teeth. Oscar's dick ached and strained uncomfortably in his pants as Lando, underneath him, practically begged to get fucked, "Please, Oscar."
Oscar took Lando further in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing. tongue sliding up the underside of his cock. Lando's hips bucked forward again, he was losing control of himself. Oscar loved how reactive Lando became when he lost control. He nearly gagged, but continued. Lando's fingers, already curled into Oscar's hair, tightened as Oscar's teeth just gently grazed Lando's cock. Every sound spilling from his mouth heading straight for Oscar's dick.
"Osc! Oscar, Oscar, oh my God, Oscar I'm going to cum if you dont-"
Oscar pulled off, rubbing his thumb once again over Lando's slit and watching his entire body shiver with the sensation. Lando was ready.
Oscar finally reached for the bottle of lube that had been left, near forgotten on the bed. Lando sat up, holding himself with his elbows to watch Oscar squirt the liquid onto his fingers. It was cold.
"Lift up." he told Lando, and Lando did so, his hips rising just enough for Oscar to situate a pillow right underneath him. "Say my name."
Lando looked up at him, but as quickly as he did so, his head rolled back down, "Oscar~" he moaned, "Oscar, please touch m-"
Oscar slid two fingers inside before Lando could even finish, rewarding him for the way his voice gave him chills. Lando gasped, his hole clenching around Oscar's fingers, but Oscar didn't stop. He bit his lower lip as he pressed further, going until his knuckles were swallowed by Lando, and pulling out until there was nearly nothing left inside. Lando moaned, spreading his legs wider. Oscar moved closer to Lando, his moans fuel to move further
"Fuck, Osc," Lando moaned as Oscar worked him open, "You're such a… you're so.."
"Hm?"
Lando didn't reply. He moaned, gasping as Oscar curled his fingers inside of him. Pretty little tears pricked down his face, he rolled his hip upwards, all in a plea for more.
Lando swore up and down every time that he didn't need to be prepped. Oscar could just go in, they'd be fine. But Oscar loved the way his fingers alone could get Lando right where he wanted them before he even took his cock out of his jeans.
Like now. Lando's hands, no longer able to take fistfuls of Oscar's scalp, dug into his bedsheets as the easiest alternative
Lando was so sexy like this. Head rolled back, a few curls sticking to his head as he let out soft but obscence noises that went straight to Oscar's dick. His eyes closed. Oscar slid another finger inside Lando, testing, and Lando moaned and nodded, once again sitting up on his arms to meet Oscar's eyes
The relief Oscar felt when he was out of his pants was incredible. His dick had been straining against his pants for nearly half an hour now. Oscar pumped himself once, twice, before coating his cock in the cold, slick lubricant. A groan escaped his throat as he rubbed it in, knowing his partner was watching his every move with desperation. He lined himself up with Lando, and bit into his shoulder as he pushed in.
Lando moaned, tightening, squeezing around Oscar in a way that nearly made him dizzy. Oscar kept his mouth busy too,bites trailing from Lando's shoulder up his neck, ghosting just above his ear, "My name." he whispered.
"O- Oscar." Good.
"Again."
"Oscar," It was louder this time. Oscar picked up his pace, slamming harder into Lando.
"Again," he demanded, biting harder into the older's neck.
"Oscar! Fucking hell! Oscar~ god, please~"
Perfect. It made his cock twitch, knowing that with each shout of his name, Lando was erasing Max from his current thoughts. He knew that Lando was close, and he knew that by the time Lando came, Max wouldn't be a thought in Lando's mind.
"Are you about to cum?" Oscar teased. It was crude, but he didn't care. If Lando came, he would cum for Oscar, teased by Oscar, with Oscar's name on his lips.
Lando gasped.
"That's not an answer, you can do better," Despite it, the knowledge that Land was falling apart like this drove him crazy. He gripped Lando's hips to pull him and slam even harder into him. Lando's warm hole clenching around him. Oscar knew the answer to his question, but he needed to hear Lando say it. "Are you going to cum?" he repeated.
"Osc- Oscar, mgh~ Please don't make me-"
"Are you going to cum Lando, yes or no?"
"Yes! Yes, God, Yes, Oscar, please!! PLEASE let me cum!" Lando begged, eyes open. glassy, submitting. He looked at Oscar like he needed him. Oscar leaned down and kissed him, feeling the begs die on his lips.
"You can go a little longer."
Lando whined. Oscar bit into his bottom lip. That whining was so teasing, so hot. Lando whined again, moaning Oscar's name like a prayer. "Please," he whispered.
"You can do it."
Lando's head fell back once again, his moans didn't stop, but he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold himself back.
Oscar lifted Lando's shirt, tongue making its way to the older's chest. Biting and sucking even there. No part of Lando would go unmarked today. It made Lando tense, made him gasp dramatically and tighten even further around his partner "O- oscanghh~ Please~"
Oscar was satisfied, Lando had submitted obediently, given Oscar everything he asked for. How could he not grant his lover the release he so desperately deserved? "Cum, baby," Oscar allowed, sinking his teeth into Lando's chest once more, "Right now."
Lando wrapped his arms around Oscar, holding him where he was as he let go, spurting thick ropes onto both of them. Oscar's name spilling his lips like it was the only word he knew.
"Good boy," Oscar brushed some hair from Lando's face, "You did so good for me," the younger mused, and despite his soft, now gentle tone, he was still going steady inside of lando, causing Lando to give these beautiful, desperate gasps every time he thrusted. Max had never had Lando in a position like this. And he never would.
Lando spoke up, his voice weak, pathetic sounding, gorgeous.
I wanted to get this out of the way because I have two 18+ fics that I'm working on and will hopefully publish this month
MDNIs don't work and I know that
I am also only 18 years old, and an mdni doesn't feel fair to me. If I could meet a wonderful friend with shared interest that's only a year or two below me, why would I push that away over something as silly as I'm considered majority and they aren't?
That being said, what I also don't want is to get a lot of interaction on 18+ fic only to look inside and see that the person is a minor. I'm aware I can't stop anyone, that's just my comfort.
A lot of the fics that I make and post aren't going to be 18+, and I want anyone to be able to read them. That being said, interacting with my content on Tumblr will push more of my content, and that's how you might end up with an 18+ fic in your recommended despite steering clear of them.
As a solution, I've made an ao3 account. (Link)
All of my works will be published both here and there and I will link to the ao3 version in each post here. If you are a minor who liked my fic and wanted to interact with it (leaving a like or a comment) or just don't want to risk 18+ content being algorithmically pushed at you, I ask you interact with me via Ao3
^ Please do note that in order to keep my fics safe from being AI scraped and myself safe from bots, all my fics are restricted to only people with an account. If you do not already have an ao3 account, I strongly urge you get one, not just for my content, but because if you are here, you like to read fanfic, and because of recent happenings, many authors restrict their content. Even if you're on Ao3 every day, if you are without an account or not logged in, you're missing out on a goldmine of fics. The wait period IS worth it
To clarify, Minors are still allowed to message me, send asks, suggest fics, etc. But I prefer you leave liking my content and leaving comments to Ao3. You can also leave an ask if you prefer. You can subscribe on ao3 if you feel that seriously about knowing when I post, but please don't follow here
I'm aware that I can't control your actions, but I've tried to be fair, so at least try to consider my boundaries.
Please credit me if you use them. You can tag me (ideal) or add #nearlynonsensegraphics to the post you can also add more specific nearlynonsense tags like nearlynonsenseblinkie or nearlynonsensestamp
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── My self challenge was to release this within two days
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Made Max green cause I associate Quadrant w/ green but someone let me know if that's a bad idea for some reason I'm still really new in this fandom
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ Max is always there for Lando, even when Lando's drunk and Max is tired
wc 1k
"C'mon mate. It's time to get back to the hotel." He found Lando in the finally dwindling crowd, a firm hand attaching to the man's mid back. His voice was already growing hoarse as a result of shouting over the music. Despite that, Max knew it was worth it. He would remember this day fondly.
"Nuhh" the new World Champion began, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. "Not tired. Busy. This party for me."
"Lando," Max's voice was sterner this time, but still with a soft glide. "It's five in the morning. Party's over. These people want to go home."
It was true that the crowd had been dwindling for some time now. The professional DJ, after willingly staying beyond his booked time, had left an hour ago and been replaced by some partygoer who seemed to have a good enough sense of what she was doing. Lando was proper drunk, and Max wasn't exactly sober himself.
"C'mon, mate," Max repeated. His hand now gently pushing into the other's back, influencing him to move. "I'm tired. And so are you."
"I'm not."
Bullshit.
"At least step outside with me so I can hear you. I'm a decibel from going deaf, mate."
The second they were outside of the building and away from the sensory overload known as Lando's first WDC party, Lando slumped. He leaned right into Max's chest, and Max had to wrap his arms protectively around the man to make sure he didn't fall.
"You seem pretty tired to me, Bob," Max said gently, a hand finding its way to play with one of the curls on the back of Lando's head. "Aren't you ready to head back?"
Lando didn't respond immediately, and momentarily, Max wondered if Lando had fallen asleep standing there. He nudged Lando slightly, and finally got a response.
"Mhmm." Lando yawned. "Ready to go back."
"Alright."
Getting a car for Lando was easy. Someone on his team had already prepared for the fact that Lando was not going to leave that building sober enough to get behind a wheel, and within five minutes, the driver was there.
Lando had leaned his head over Max's shoulder, and was, assumedly, asleep. Max let him. He didn't say anything, just occupied himself with his phone, his hand settled automatically onto Lando's knee. He checked on him every time Lando seemed to stir, but relished in the quiet. For the first time since Lando was crowned the new world champion, Max had time to himself to think.
As the city just beyond the car window rushed by, Max thought about Lando and about how much their lives had changed. He used to race alongside Lando, and now he worked for him. Max thought about the different paths their lives had led, about how they managed to leave just enough room for each other.
Max was happy for Lando, truly, he loved that Lando had been able to achieve his dream. Still, he wondered. He wondered what it would have been like for this to have been his world championship, his name in lights. This was his dream too, and he had to wonder what his life would look like if he was known by the world as something other than Lando's b-
Max stopped himself.
These jealous thoughts, they weren't new, and Max knew if he allowed them to fester, they would ruin his relationship with someone who had been in his corner since the very beginning. Lando had achieved the dream. As far as Max was concerned, he did that for the both of them. The car slowed to a stop.
Max nudged Lando. "Cmon, Bob," he whispered, but Lando didn't move a muscle, "We're at the hotel, mate. Cmon, let's get you to sleep in a bed"
It took a while before Lando opened his sleepy eyes. Max could see himself in them. He watched unfocused iris come to, and watched Lando's pupils widen as his focus landed. He smiled. Max's heart fluttered.
"C'mon, Bob," He said softly, letting Lando wrap his arms around his shoulders.
Max gently lowered Lando onto the mattress. He'd had to carry the champion to his room. Of course he did. World Champion or not, that was just who Lando was. And right now, Lando was too drunk and sleepy to get himself dressed and ready for bed.
Luckily, It wasn't the first time they'd been in this position, and Max was able to help.
"There you go, Lan" Max whispered after practically tucking the other in, "sleep well, yeah?"
Before Max could pull his arm away, Lando opened his previously closed eyes. Max watched once again as his eyes focused, pupils dilating. Heart fluttering. "You stay," Lando muttered.
"Here?" Max asked. He knew that was exactly what Lando wanted. He always got like this when he was sleepy. Which, knowing Lando, was whenever they were alone. Still, he wanted to hear Lando say it.
"Here.." Lando repeated. His eyes locked onto Max's. He was pleading. Max knew what it meant. Lando didn't want to be alone.
"Alright Bob," Max pressed a kiss to Lando's forehead, "Let me grab some night clothes-"
"No. Stay." Lando's hand shot out, grabbing Max's shirt. His grip was too weak to pull him in, but Max leaned closer anyways. "Take it off. Too many layers."
"Bob-"
Lando made a noise between a whine and a plea.
"Lando…" Max's voice had softened by this point. He was losing his restraint. Lando gripped his arm a little tighter, and Max's resolve was gone.
"Alright. Let go of me so I can take it off, then, mate."
Lando obliged.
Max pushed his way into the bed and Lando instantly cuddled into his side. Max smiled, his lips meeting the man's forehead. "I love you.." Lando whispered, and it warmed Max's heart.
"I love you too, Bob."
And Lando was asleep.
Maybe Max didn't have everything.
Maybe he would never be a world champion, Maybe his name would never be in lights. Maybe Max would never see even a true fraction of the recognition Lando got on the daily. But did it really matter when at the end of the day, Lando recognized him? Lando relied on him, trusted him, and needed him.
In a moment like this one, with Lando's warm breath against his neck, Lando's body curled softly around his, Max knew that he was actually okay with not being known as anything other than Lando's Boyfriend.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── My self challenge for today was to write a double drabble
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── It's so hard to write really short fanfic :<
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ There's only one thing about sharing his flat with Lando that Oscar minds
wc double drabble [200]
Oscar always told people that he didn't mind sharing his flat with Lando.
He'd say he didn't mind the way Lando would blast his music in the next room over. Or the way he'd burn everything he tried to cook. When asked if Lando was a messy flatmate, Oscar would just shrug. Messy or not, it didn't matter. With Lando living in his apartment, Oscar didn't mind.
With one exception.
It was silly, maybe, to be bothered by such a thing, but when you couldn't tear your eyes from your own roommate….
Lando was in shorts. Not a shirt and shorts. Not anything necessarily covering. Just shorts. Laying on the couch like he owned the place. His eyes were locked onto the tv. Oscar's eyes were locked onto him. He was supposed to be reading. Oscar was. Instead, he was reading into every slight movement the other man made. Lando smirked.
"You're staring."
"Put a shirt on."
"mm… Nah,"
Oscar pressed his lips into a thin line. Lando's smirk opened into a smile.
"You're annoying."
"You can't get enough of it."
Oscar didn't respond
"Come here," Lando beckoned, and now Oscar smiled, standing.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── VAMPIRE ! KIMI ANTONELLI / GN READER [NO GENDERED LANGUAGE]
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── My self challenge for today was to write something I felt pleased with
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I don't know anything about racing but I can write a vampire
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ The crash was terrible. It was a genuine question as to if Kimi was going to make it. He did, thankfully, but... well....
wc 1.3k
"I'm really worried about him." Your speech came in a hushed tone, your phone pressed to your ear. Your mother was on the other line, listening. You didn't know what was going on with Kimi, but it scared you.
"You said he was getting better, didn't you?" she asked, "They discharged him," Worry was evident in the woman's voice. She had been in the hospital with you, watching you squeeze his hand and beg between sobs for him to do as little as squeeze back. To show he was still alive. She was just as worried for you as she was for him. "Did something happen?"
You bit your tongue. "He's- He's better, Ma. That's what's scary," You lowered your voice even further, like you didn't trust your own partner not to be behind you, eavesdropping. "He shouldn't be. It-"
"It's a miracle," your mother interrupted sternly, "You should be very thankful."
You sighed. She was right. After what happened that sunday, you were lucky for Kimi to still be in your life. He was still your boyfriend after all. It was just… he had only been in the hospital for a month. You remembered the way his vitals seemed to getting worse while his body was getting visibly better.
They didn't let you see him for the last two weeks of his stay, then all of a sudden-
Kimi walked into the room, knocking on the wall behind you as a way of making you aware of his presence. You jumped and turned around. That. All of a sudden, that.
Kimi had been in the hospital for a month, the last two weeks of that, you weren't allowed to see him, and now he was walking around your place like nothing has happened. Not only that, but he had somehow gained the ability to traverse the house silently. You never heard him coming.
"Kimi" you breathed, "I was just talking to my Mom.
"Oh-" Kimi made a weird face, something you couldn't read but knew wasn't normal, "uh, tell her I said hi."
"Yeah." You responded in a last air of breath. "Kimi says hi. Uhm.. I'm gonna let you go now."
You hung up on your mom and turned to your partner, standing slowly. His eyes followed your movements perfectly. "You really shouldn't be walking around."
"I'm fine, y/n. I'm all better."
You looked at Kimi. Really looked at him. He was the same as he'd been before the crash. No signs of having been involved in something that should have been fatal for someone his age. He was a little paler, but that was too be expected. He hadn't been outside since it happened.
"How?" you asked him.
He opened his mouth, but then pressed his lips into a thin line. He looked like he was upset you even asked him. Finally, he opened his mouth. "A miracle," he repeated your mother's sentiment. For some reason, it didn't sound like something Kimi would say. Not here. Not like this.
Kimi's face softened. He reached out to you, and you found yourself sheltered in his arms. He wore jackets now, long sleeves, warm clothes, even winter gloves. You missed when you could hug Kimi and not just his clothes.
"Kimi?"
"Mhm?"
"Can you do something for me?"
"Anything." And you knew that was true. You knew Kimi would do anything for you, At least, you hoped that was the case.
"Can I listen to your heartbeat?"
You felt, even from under the jackets, Kimi swallow. Then you felt his chest rise and fall with the cycle of air as if he hadn't been breathing before. You looked at him, eyes pleading.
Kimi looked guilty. Guiltier than you'd ever seen him look.
"Not that- n not right now, okay? I'm-" his eyes drifted to the side. "I'm really cold, baby."
"I'm okay with that."
Kimi hesitated, then looked at you, his eyes big, but the sparkle in them gone. "Can I listen to yours instead?"
You weren't expecting that. You couldn't deny that you had only asked because you wanted to lay on his chest. To feel him without the barrier of the jacket in the way, but if Kimi laid on you, that was still a closeness you couldn't deny. You agreed, and walked over to the couch where the two of you could situate yourselves.
He laid his head in your chest and the first thing you noticed was the cold. His head, the only part of his body that wasn't hidden away from you, felt like ice. You ran a hand through his hair, noticing the cold radiating from his scalp.
"What's wrong?" he shifted a little, looking up at you. You noticed the way his eyes dropped from your face, trained on your neck, and didn't move.
"You just— weren't lying about being cold." The chill sent a shudder up your spine.
"I told you," Kimi began, but there was no smile seeping onto his lips the way there had been any other time he got the chance to say he told you so. He was dead serious, and you didn't get why. "I'm cold."
"Yeah.." you breathed, as he rested his head back down. You heard him start breathing as well. His chest rose and fell as his head lay against your chest. It matched your own breaths perfectly, but it seemed performative, too loud. Like he was doing too much. You bit your tongue, and despite the cold of his skin, you continued to run your fingers through his hair.
"It's so loud.." You heard Kimi mutter.
"Hmm?"
"Your heartbeat. You're scared."
"Just worried about you." You tried to correct. And you weren't lying. Your partner being as cold as a corpse was a valid reason to be scared. But that wasn't the whole story. That was far from it.
Kimi sat up. for the first time since all of this had started, he pulled you into his arms. His thick clothing separated your body from his, but you could tell there was no body heat under that jacket. He buried his nose in your neck. It was uncomfortably cold. You squirmed.
"You know I'd do anything for you, right?"
You didn't respond.
"I'd deny my own instincts for you," he continued, nose still in your neck. "Because I love you so much. I always have, and I always will. Forever. I'm not going to hurt you, y/n, please."
He pulled away from you, scanning your face. He leaned forward. You felt your heart rate spike. He just smiled. It was the same cute, innocent, Kimi smile you fell in love with. At least as close to it as you could remember. "You're going to worry so much you get yourself sick," he pulled away from you, standing, "It's been a while since I've been able to do something for you. I'm going to go get you dinner."
He didn't wait for you to say anything, and your throat felt so dry that you couldn't even try. He pulled his hood over his head and left the building.
Kimi's rapid recovery was unprecedented. Just a few days over a month ago now, Kimi had been in a fatal crash. And yet today, that very same Kimi was leaving the house, on his own, because he "hadn't done anything for you in a while". It didn't make any sense. It wasn't right.
You made your way to the window, a quick glance informing you that rain would soon pour. Kimi would be in it. The apartment was no more still, no quieter, than at any other time your partner was in a different room than you, and yet, it felt emptier. Without the knowledge that Kimi was around, you felt lonely. Without any other option, you resorted to your phone, scrolling mindlessly to pass the empty time. You tried to ignore the eerie feeling in your gut. Not to think about what Kimi had said.
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