#ch. fic

[chelemlem]

happy hols i wrote multiverse 814 [ 3.6k / e / flimsy excuse to play around in a bunch of aus without plot buildup ] 💫

[chelemlem]

in an attempt at organization, here's everything i wrote this year

when i'm in an "it is what it is" competition and my opponent is a mclaren driver (814, 1.4k, T) workplace mandated soulbond au

need a dick and conversation (maxf/oscar, 2.4k, M) brazil flashfic

'til i can't no more (814, 2.3k, E) rule 63! lando + questionable cowboy kink

fridrich method (814, 1.2k, M) qatar flashfic

trade offer (814, 5k, E) rule 63! lando + questionable superstitions

grand theft august (814, 6969 WORDS, E)  developing relationship

legroom (814, 1.7k, M) monza flashfic

[chelemlem]

For the prompts: 5 times Oscar takes care of Lando and 1 time Lando takes care of him Back!

ty anon! hope u don't mind that i combined 2 prompts + made it LOVE ISLAND AU ↓ (why is this 1k)

"Watch your step," their driver says sharply, half a second before Lando's loafers slip on a particularly wet patch of earth climbing out the car.

"Cheers, mate," Lando says, heart thundering. Jesus. Fine way to start off his reality T.V career. Week one and out of the running 'cause he split his head open on some fucking rocks. 

Lando extracts his fingers from around the guy's bicep. Huh, not bad. He wasn’t trying to cop a feel, but.

"Anytime."

And he’s back to squinting at something on his digital notebook. Pale and rumpled, he looks out of place in the Majorca sunshine. There's a subtle furrow between his brows, like he’s got a long list of tasks to get through, and Lando’s just the first.

"That was close," George fusses, strategically sliding an arm around Lando's shoulder in a way that both highlights their height difference and show off his delts. One of those posh Cotswold types; harmless enough. Lando'd picked him for his first date because at the end of the day, they wanted the same thing—to win.

"Yeah, scary," Lando blinks up at him. Giggles for the cameras.

 

Lando's going to quit. 

Or like. Sue someone. He stares down at his pre-packaged meal, stomach turning. This was the one thing, the one thing he listed as part of his dietary restrictions, and still—

A shadow falls across his lap.

"Here," the PA from before says. Brown hair, thighs. Oscar?

Lando eyes the unmarked takeaway box hovering in front of him with suspicion. It smells okay. And anything's better than fish.

"Chicken rice," Oscar clarifies, handing him a spoon to match. "Thai okay?"

Oh. Lando gives him a smile, small but genuine. So someone did read the profile they made him write. Who would've thought?

Oscar clears his throat. "If you need anything else, just—I'll be over there."

He hightails it to where Luisa and the other girls are holding court around the firepit, sliding his headset back on as he goes. Nice arse too. 

Crew aren't allowed to speak to the islanders, if Max’s rudimentary Reddit trawl is to be believed, but whatever. Lando's not one for rules anyway.

He tucks into his chicken rice and tries to think of other things he needs. 

"There's a new bombshell arriving today," Oscar casually lets slip at mic-up. Quietly, under his breath.

The fuck? It's only been forty-eight hours since Nyck got here. Or maybe longer—who the fuck knows with the way time passes in the villa. There's nothing to do but tan and flirt, the sun setting on the same listless, lazy day forever. Forever. 

But more importantly—

"They hotter than me?"

Oscar's face does this put-upon little thing before sliding back to neutral. Instead of responding, he winds the mic pack around Lando's waist, bending down to secure it at his hips. 

Lando knows how to do it himself by now. Oscar knows Lando knows.

"By a fair bit, I reckon," he says finally, and escapes before Lando can call him a liar. 

"Also, you've got a terrible poker face. At least pretend to be touched when he surprises you with breakfast." 

"He made me eggs and toast, mate. Not exactly Michelin-star, is it?" Or chicken rice, for that matter.

Oscar sighs. "Next week's vote's going to the public. Just so you know."

Lando's not worried. He's survived this long—longer than Daniel, even, who won fan favourite, week two—so clearly there's something he's doing right.

He sort of wants out, anyway. He misses his phone. God, he misses sex. Everyone talks a big game, but when it actually comes down to it they're fucking, like, shy about doing it in front of the cameras. And the cameras are bleeding everywhere. Lando would know.

The only reprieve, or something like it, is—Oscar. 

He's not exactly forthcoming with chatter, but through the power of being cute and annoying, Lando learns a lot about him anyway. 

Like how he's a fan of the cricket. And he's got three sisters, none of whom give a fuck about the show. And how apparently being a former cub scout makes him some kind of authority on tying people up. 

"Just saying those knots seemed loose, is all." 

Lando feels a smirk coming on. "Watching, were you?" 

Oscar rolls his eyes. "I review the Hideaway footage to make sure it's fit for broadcast, yes."

"Kinky."

"Good job. Really defended my honour there." 

"Fuck off," Oscar says, surprisingly calm for someone with bruises trawling the side of their face.

"Dunno why you thought you could take him. He's got like two stone and six centimetres on you. And Charles heard he's done amateur boxing—"

"Got one decent one in there, at least?"

"Element of surprise, s'all it was."

Lando gives up with the bandages. He has no idea what he's doing—and his hands are shaking too much to be of any real use. Best leave it to medical.

"Oscar," he says, rubbing his eyes. His thumb comes away damp. Christ, this better not end up on telly. "The fuck were you thinking, mate." 

Oscar exhales long and hard. His voice is softer when he says: "Sorry. Wasn't really… thinking."

Lando punches his arm lightly—the good one.

"Next time, just. Ask me out normally, alright?"

"They're not firing me," Oscar's voice sounds stunned through the phone, coloured with relief. It's the most emotion Lando's ever heard out of him. Well, second most. "Did you—?"

"My agent said me and Carlos can call it quits two months after the finale," Lando interrupts. It's important, after all.

There's quiet over the line. He can hear Oscar breathing. In out, in out. 

"And what did you say?"

Lando leans forward, against the dash of his borrowed McLaren. The one he's being paid to drive around in, posting selfies with wine and roses in the passenger's. 

Runner's up is first loser and all that, but. It's still a pretty good deal.

"Told her I'll do two weeks." 

[chelemlem]

Landoscar flatmates au ? For the au prompts!

OH HELLO. ok this is more neighbours au than flatmates but !

lando moves into his first london apartment trying to get his new streaming company off the ground. it's Not a nice place exactly. the stairwell is a fire hazard and there are water stains wrapped around the smaller-than-he's-used-to kitchen and he's pretty sure his downstairs neighbours are serial killers with the odd hours they keep & passive aggressive notes they leave around (wdym "kindly refrain from yelling when ppl are trying to sleep" who goes to bed at 7pm m8? but ok FINE he can schedule his cod streams for earlier in the day 🙄)

but that's what you get for wanting to "make it on ur own". so to speak

one sultry summer afternoon his doorbell rings and oh worm? it's the fabled downstairs neighbour who he's never met before. he's got floppy hair and bags under his eyes and apparently he's going to be late on rent this month bc he lost his second job. internally lando's like uh ok sure? what's that got to do with me but then Floppy Hair gives him a slow once-over and says: "or i could maybe. blow you?"

and that's??? fuck, why not. the guy's fit. what the hell

he figures out what that was all about later: oscar the downstairs bloke thinks LANDO owns the apartment bc he coincidentally shares a last name with their landlord ?

which brings up like: The Ethical Conundrum. on one hand: honesty, yeah? but lando's morals are fluid at the best of times and tbh the convenience of having dick that good only a floor down is nothing to sneeze at‼️ besides, between his delivery job and engineering coursework, oscar seems to have enough on his plate without adding apartment-hunting to the mix. it's win-win, really? what oscar doesn't know won't hurt him. lando can cover his share

cue 3-5 months of some of the best sex lando's ever had, partly for the normal reasons and partly bc of how Down oscar is to try all the weird kinky shit lando is into (which he chalks up to the fact that in oscar's mind he's essentially selling his body for shelter...... insert vague guilt)

and the problem is lando's growing fond of oscar's like dry sense of humor and his surprisingly good cooking (when he's got the time) and ends up doing all sorts of throat-constrictingly domestic stuff like dropping oscar off at class and ordering extra groceries for him and one day when they're sat in oscar's apartment waiting for the kettle (a shmancy new one lando bought) to boil, oscar jokes "oh am i officially a sugar baby now... a rentboy if u will" lando has a mild (read: severe) crisis about it and just. blurts out the truth

oscar's quiet for a bit. and then he's like: yeah i know

and hi what? the? fuck? but oscar's like uh so i ran into our real landlord a couple of weeks after we started shagging and i know i should have said something when u began paying a third of my rent but. shrugs. i looked u up and it seems like you can afford it (pure electric advert). also i... like hanging out with you. i like cooking for you. i like having sex and enough free time to sleep. i wanna keep doing it if you... (he's blushing now) don't mind

and lando's lowkey like youuu son of a bitch but he recognises he doesn't have a leg to stand on and hey does this mean oscar can actually spend nights at his place instead of walking back to his own apartment ? cut to future oscar cameoing in the background of lando's streams as Anonymous Boyfriend and maxf being like why the hell do you still have him saved in ur phone as "rentboy 💕"

[chelemlem]

for the au headcanon game: age reversed oscarmark ??

anon pls... this gave me the most insane Worms of the Brain .

the winter after his f2 season (where he finishes runner's up in the championship) mark signs two-time wdc oscar piastri as his manager

oscar on the dl doesn't think this kid has that dawg in him But he appreciates his old-school bluntness and finds his awkward guy's guy hetero posturing vaguely endearing and hey, it's always nice to have another aussie on the grid since ricciardo flamed out

their first few seasons together are! fine. pretty consistent points, the odd podium here and there. oscar mercifully pretends not to notice mark's eyes on him and sends him back to his own hotel room after one(1) glass of wine, thanks

then red bull build The Car of All Time

and then they do it again. and again

as much as oscar tries not to let it show, he finds himself growing frustrated with mark's inability to take responsibility for his own driver shortcomings. he's too conservative on the throttle, doesn't take enough risks. there have been easy wins thrown away because of atrocious starts and poor defense and what was all that at sepang?? team orders aside, sebastian Was faster, he Did pass him. there's no point sitting around blaming the team for what was his own fault, in the end. mark retorts that well norris won 4 to your 2 mate so where do we go from here

they fuck about it (22 y/o service top mark webber anyone). oscar feels guilty for approximately one-third of a second before deciding: fuck it he's too old and tired for guilt actually. the next morning, he strokes mark's hair and says oh alright then when mark nervously asks if they can keep doing this

after one spectacularly terrible year of bad luck and getting walloped on-track by his younger teammate (think perez v verstappen '23), mark finally wins a late-season race. he may have lost out on challenging for the championship again but holy shit it's been such a long time coming. he actually tears up a bit on the podium he's just so happy and relieved and over the fucking moon. he calls oscar afterwards and proposes

oscar says... no. obviously

[chelemlem]

about 500w of a random nothing prequel to this. (814 + r63 + implied infidelity)

The great thing about being young, dumb, and you know, Jenson winks, is that it's socially acceptable to excuse herself from all the schmoozing and shoulder-rubbing to sneak the odd ciggie with the servers. 

Back by the venue kitchens halfway into one of these things is where she finds Oscar: plonked on a wooden crate, phone in hand.

Maybe it's the peachy champagne from before, but Lando's limbs feel loose enough to pitch forward, perching her chin on Oscar's shoulder. Mm. Clean and cheap — some kind of citrus soap. 

"Whatcha hiding out here for?"

Oscar, to her credit, takes it in stride. 

"Not hiding. Just, uh. Quali's on."

Why bother? Obviously Verstappen's taking it. Oscar wrinkles her nose in an ehh gesture, screen angled so Lando can watch too. "Dunno, Red Bull are pretty shit around Marina Bay."

Are they, though? Then again, Oscar still backs Ricciardo out of some vague sense of patriotism, so maybe she's not the best judge of wheel.

"Bet you only fancy him 'cause he seems like he's hung," she says accusingly, and Oscar fucking. Creases in silent laughter. Huh, easy crowd. 

With her mouth open, Lando can see how the top line of her teeth dip low in the middle. A bunny rabbit. 

Ugh, fine. She has nothing better to do, and Oscar seems like a marginally more interesting time than the other models and heiresses inside. A proper little athlete. Might as well.

It turns out to be quite a long time, them sitting here. Like, two missed calls from her brother long. Nothing important. He's just in town on business and wants to do lunch. On the cusp of closing some deal that would make even Jense's eyes water.

"I have three sisters," Oscar offers. They have their backs to opposite walls, legs extended. Lando isn't really tipsy anymore, but she still kind of has this insane urge to close the gap, press her ankle along the exposed square of Oscar's instep. Are those Tommy? Fuck's sake.

"Mm. And you're the oldest?"

Oscar blinks. "Is it obvious?" 

"Bit, yeah."

Seems like a pain, honestly. There's a reason Lando's parents let her get away with everything — because they have Oliver to cushion the fall. Everyone agrees she'll probably land an MRS degree before an MBA. 

Oscar smiles, a tad wry. "Bet they're glad you're still making connections, though."

"Whad'you mean?" Lando says, shuttering. The back of her neck feels warm. Fucking—is she being slut-shamed right now?

Oscar shifts on the floor, looking for the first time: uncomfortable. "Isn't that why you're here?"

Uh. Lando is here because she'd wanted to date a MotoGP rider growing up and Jenson is the next-to-next best thing. Specifically here, in this greasy produce cellar with Webber's little girlfriend, though? Well.

"Fuck if I know, mate." 

Oscar snorts, her shoulders going lax. She starts to say something else when Lando uncrosses her legs, uncomfy from the sweat building behind her knees. The cream satin hitches up, baring a triangle of thigh that draws Oscar's gaze like a condemned moth to flame. Her mouth snaps shut.

Their eyes lock. Only for a second — but it's enough. 

Enough for Lando to pause and consider. And smile. 'Kay then.

Everything after that is a bit of a blur. 

[chelemlem]

last line game

thanks wonderful beloved @theory81 for the tag <33

rules: show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like)

"Oscar. Look here, please." "No thanks." "It's important. I need your, like. Undivided attention." A beat. "You couldn't handle my undivided attention."

Oh? Lando kicks his shin, grinning as the soft shells of Oscar's ears start to glow. Why say it at all if he was just gonna get embarrassed? Loser.

pretty much everyone has done this already but!!! @mecachrome spare redacted crumbs if you would be so kind