Been thinkings thoughts about domestic Landoscar post season before their winter break plans. So just walk with me for a second.
“God Osc, so needy, whining so much over a few kisses.” Lando breathes out unlatching his mouth from Oscar’s chest and resting his chin against his sternum. He’s looking up at Oscar through his lashes. Oscar whose head is tilted back dangling weightless. Oscar whose knuckles are turning white where he’s gripping the edge of the dining table Lando leaned him back against. Oscar whose mouth is slightly parted in a silent moan. His Oscar.
Oscar only groans in response, the hand in Lando’s hair yanking him forward again. Lando hums but goes willingly kissing the soft pale skin between his tits. He glides one of his hands from Oscar’s waist up reaching for his nipple to give it a sharp tug. Oscar whines, knees buckling a little in response. “Stop fucking teasing Lan” he manages to pant out voice rough as sleep still clings to it.
Lando hums against his skin not pulling back just moving along his chest sucking and biting gently. He kisses his way down Oscar’s sternum sucking sharply when he reaches the base. Oscar cries out, the hand in landos hair tightening; unsure whether to pull him closer or push him back. He does neither, Lando pulls back himself with a loud pop that echos through the room and leans back in his chair to admire his work.
“Mhmm.” He hums, after a pause he adds, “Osc, look.” His eyes are glued to his chest, the mark right in the middle of it. His voice is ragged and rough on the vowels. He brings a finger up to trace the bruising, pressing slightly at the bottom of the mark. Oscar makes a non committal hum, but opens his eyes slowly, bowing his head to look at Lando first, then slowly tipping his head further following Lando’s gaze.
It takes him a second but recognition sobers him from his previously horny thoughts. “Lando did you just give me a fucking hickey in the shape of your number?” He moves the hand from Lando’s hair to shove his shoulder. He frowns a little trying to get a better look at the mark.
Lando grins up at him, the hands still resting against Oscar’s waist squeezing affectionately. It’s a toothy grin, the kind Oscar can never truly be angry at for longer than a second. Oscar folds immediately laughing at the absurdity of Lando’s actions.
Oscar puts up a fuss about it for the rest of the day. Complaining about how he’s going to hide it, that he’ll be on the beach in less than a week and there’s no way someone won’t notice, that it’s going to start at least four rumours before testing starts at the end of January. It’s only later while getting ready for bed that he’s stopped complaining. It’s the last time they’ll be in the same place for a while; Lando leaves for his annual boys skiing trip in the morning and Oscar’s got a flight back home in the afternoon. It’s then that Lando notices Oscar brushing his forefingers along the mark as he admires it in the mirror. He pushes off the door frame going to brush his own teeth.
Yeah, we’ll be ok he thinks to himself, leaning over to press a kiss on the back of Oscar’s shoulder while wetting his own toothbrush.
(This is the first fanfic/drabble/imagine I’ve ever written so please be nice. Let me know what you think!)
for magical hijinks, bodyswap but its lily and magui who gets swapped
magical hijinks prompt game
I continue to kiss your brain every single time you tell me some insane shit. The conversations we’ve had around this prompt are truly insane and unhinged and I wouldn’t have it any other way <33 This WILL be a full fic at some point so if you’re interested keep an eye out. It would explore more of the magui/oscar implications and also the lily/magui ones because I love this!! But for now this will be a prompt fill . I hope you enjoy it !
Landolily | Body-swap | ~0.9 k
When Lily wakes up, it’s to the feeling of soft kisses being peppered along her torso — down between the valley of her breasts, over her navel, and along the waistband of her underwear. Deft thumbs hook into the thin straps over her hips, gently pulling them down while Oscar presses kisses down her legs.
Slowly, she lets her eyes open, blinking awake into the dark room. She can’t help but furrow her brows, almost certain they left the curtains half open when they went to bed last night given how much Lily likes waking up to the sun soaking her.
Under the sheets, Oscar bites into her thigh, lapping at it immediately after he does. Fuck, as good as it feels that definitelyisn’t right. Oscar’s not a biter for starters, he’s always been so gentle with her. A little too gentle sometimes. And even if by some miracle he decided to start indulging her unspoken fantasies now, the teeth are all wrong. The sharpest points of his bite feels too far apart, almost as if it were his canines digging in the most and not the two right in front.
Her thoughts are cut off when Weird-Oscar presses a kiss to her entrance, the tip of his nose pushing against the hood of her clit. He nuzzles into her, breathing her in as he presses kisses along the outer edge of her lips.
“Mhm,” Lily moans, arching into the touch, her fingers latching into his… curls? That’s not right. Lily frowns, dragging her nails through his hair experimentally. His hair feels messy, loose ringlets that have tussled out during his sleep.
Before she can say anything more, Almost-Certainly-Not-Her-Oscar is pushing into her, the tip of his tongue lapping at her entrance, lips latching onto her labia.
“Fuck,” she moans, fingers tugging against his hair, pushing him further into her. He goes willingly, shifting under the sheets to hold onto her hips. His hands feel bigger than they should as well, thumbs meeting each other just short of her navel. Fuck, yeah this is definitely not her Oscar.
She’s heard about this before. People temporarily switching with different versions of themselves across realities, swapping bodies with someone else, a whole assortment of bizarre things that can happen when a little bit of magic is involved. The general consensus is it doesn’t really count if you do something with another version of your partner.
Assuming it is your partner, of course.
It’s hard for her to dwell on the ethical implications of whatever is going on while kisses are being pressed against her core, her mind melting more with each one.
The man — who she hopes is another version of Oscar — brings one hand down, slowly pushing the tip of his finger into her cunt. His tongue latches onto her clit, tip circling it with practiced precision all while his finger continues to work into her. It goes in easier than it should, the usual tension she experiences seemingly nonexistent here.
Lily can’t help the string of moans and curses she lets out, fingers tensing at the feeling, hips bucking up to meet his lips.
This Oscar seems to capitalise on simplicity. His lips sucking against her gently while his fingers curl to find the soft spot within her that has her seeing stars in seconds
She lets herself revel in it — the feeling of his hair tickling her over-sensitive thighs, the way his other thumb presses right underneath her navel, the feeling of his shoulders holding her apart every time she tries to close them.
Fuck, he’s really, really good at this.
It doesn’t take long for warmth to start coiling behind her navel. The build up steady yet entirely unexpected.
Seemingly sensing her nearing the edge, he hums against her, tongue suckling her with a steady fervour, fingers curlings with precision.
Lily’s jaw drops with a strangled moan, tipping over the edge before she can do anything to stop it. She feels her eyes squeeze shut, the back of her eyelids painted white hot as pleasure courses through her.
He continues to suck on her clit, gently easing as he helps her ride out her orgasm, fingers slowing before stilling entirely.
Eventually, after what feels like hours, Lily begins to whine in overstimulation, pulling her hips away from the feeling.
Beneath the sheets, Alternative-Universe-Oscar chuckles to himself, pressing a final kiss against her before pulling back, easing his fingers out gently, wiping against the sheets.
Her fingers release their clutch against his hair, falling against the sheets uselessly while she takes a deep steadying breath. Her mouth feels dry, her head pounding, and her cunt aching in the best way possible.
“Jesus Mags, nearly fuckin’ ripped my hair out,” he chuckles beneath her, pushing the covers up and over his head.
Lily frowns, eyes shooting open. Pushing onto her elbows, she looks down at Lando emerging from beneath the sheets, dopy smile plastered against his wet lips as he grins up at her all 32 teeth on display.
IN THE EVENT OF BEING STUPID ENOUGH TO EAT CURSED CHOCOLATES GIFTED TO YOU BY A FAN
Lando Norris / Oscar Piastri | Oneshot | 1.8k
In hindsight, Oscar thinks, throwing his head back against the wall as another hot flash runs through him, maybe eating the unlabelled, non-descript chocolates from a fan wasn’t the best idea he's ever had.
or Oscar has the (not so) bright idea to eat a gift from a fan, suffers the consequences, and gets a handjob out of it.
stars notes — originally written as a prompt fill, but I like also posting on AO3 and making fic headers sooo. I haven’t written a lot of smut before, so be nice to me. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it, if you choose to indulge
I have more thoughts on preseason / post break domestic landoscar.
Part two to this little fic I wrote. This one won't really make sense if you haven’t read it yet. Inspired by this post and the tags on this reblog.
Enjoy!
"Mhmm, missed you" Oscar mumbles into the side of Lando’s neck, arms looped around his middle. He's got them pressed against the now closed front door. Lando barely managed to put his bags down before he had been pulled into the hug. He lets out a laugh, tilting his head all the way back as he does.
"Did you somehow get needier in the three weeks I was gone, or have you always been this bad?" He jokes but brings his arms around Oscars shoulders anyways.
"Shut up." He murmurs punctuating it with a small nip to the base of Lando's neck. Lando lets out a surprised yelp but keeps laughing. He missed this too even if he hasn’t said it yet.
"Missed you too Osco." Lando's smile softens slightly the usual teasing put on hold to allow them this moment of vulnerability. He brings his hands to rest along Oscar's jaw thumb rubbing over his cheek bone absent mindedly.
"I really did," Oscar’s still mumbling and he can feel the blush creeping up his neck and along his cheeks, "miss you, I mean. I really missed you." The truth in it almost surprises him. They spent twenty odd weekends a year together for racing, and then almost every day between that in meetings, doing socials for the team, or whatever sponsor event they’re supposed to be attending. And on the rare off week they’re almost never apart these days. They're either playing paddle with friends or glued to each other's side while at home.
They stay like that for a while, bundled up in each other’s warmth, it's familiar and feels more like home than their apartment ever has.
Lando eventually drops his head forward into Oscar's shoulder letting out a groan. "I need a shower." It's all mumbled and Oscar can barely make out the words.
After a second he adds, "Join me? You can finally get me back for that little number before 'stralia." He's grinning even wider than he was before, his eyes crinkling around the edges. The teasing is fully evident but there's something softer underneath though. The silent I missed you too, I want to be with you right now.
"If you think you're getting any after the amount of twitter madness you created with that, mate," He doesn’t finish the sentence, just shakes his head knowingly. He does his best to sound like he actually means it, like he’s actually upset about it. They both know he isn’t. Far from it really.
"Gotta show ‘em who you belong to, no?" He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.
“Go shower.” Oscar mumbles in lieu of a response, frowning slightly as he does. “Dinner’ll be ready when you’re out.” With that he steps back, grabs the handle of Lando’s suitcase, wheels it down the hall, and leaves Lando standing there wondering what the hellhe did wrong.
Just as Oscar promised dinner is ready by the time Lando emerges an hour later. His hair’s dripping and his sweat pants are sitting obscenely low on his hips. He pads into the kitchen quietly wrapping his arms around Oscar’s waist from behind and buries his head between his shoulder blades.
“‘m sorry. Was a shit thing to say. You don’t belong to anyone, you’re your own person. Clearly wasn’t thinking.” He mumbles it into Oscar’s shirt and squeezes his arms hoping Oscar understands how much he means it. How much he means to him.
“‘S alright,” Oscar he replies, hand slipping down to squeeze Lando’s wrist. “Don’t really mind the weird claiming thing you’ve got going on lately. Was just fucking hungry is all. If I let you keep it up we’d only be eating by midnight.”
“What the hell Osc, had me stressed about nothing for the last hour.” He shrieks in mock outrage, not hurt but definitely not happy about it either. “You’re probably into it, you freak. Had to run off and hide your boner or something, is that it?” He jokes trying to ease the tension.
“Fuck off,” he scoffs, moving back to their dinner.
He tries not to think about it. About how many times he traced that mark when he was alone in bed. Tries not to think about how good it looked against his skin. How much he liked carrying around a piece of Lando everywhere he went. And he definitely tries not to think about how much he wants to do the same. How much he wants to see Lando with a twin marking to his. How good an 81 would look against Lando’s tanned skin.
“Oh my god you are!” He’s laughing now, a proper full body laugh. “Want me to stake my claim? Tell anyone who’s ever looked at you to fuck off cause you’re mine?”
“Lando.” It’s a weak protest, he knows it. Lando’s turned him around now, got him backed against the counter like he’s going to do it right here right now. It’s oddly reminiscent of where they were about a month ago. “Just. Eat your dinner, mate.” He mumbles, shaking his head before slipping away from him with their plates in hand making a break for the dining table.
Dinner is relatively tame, all things considered. They swap holiday stories, seamlessly transitioning between topics and each other’s moments. Somewhere between Oscar’s recount of the horrendous gag gifts his sisters got him for Christmas, and the story of how Lando ‘accidently’ gave himself an eyebrow slit they had moved to the lounge. Oscar’s got his head in the crook of Lando’s neck while he tells him about the Caribbean and all the golf he and max managed to fit in. It’s soothing, just being with each other, finally managing to sync back into their dynamic.
Lando’s talking about some impossible shot he managed to save from a bunker when Oscar starts leaving kisses along his collarbone. He squeezes tighter pulling him in but doesn’t stop talking while he does. Oscar doesn’t stop either, just hums every now and then to keep up the illusion that he’s paying attention. Lando knows he’s not listening but keeps talking anyways, he knows Oscar will stop him if he’s really sick of it.
“Ngh, Osc,” he groans, bucking his hips up when Oscar’s kisses turn from innocent to insatiable. “Knew you couldn’t resist forever. You always cave so quickly. Don’t even have to do anything and you’re worked up.” He’s teasing, chatting shit, doesn’t mean half of it. He knows Oscar can be just as big of a tease as him when he wants to be. But he also knows what to say to get him riled up anyways.
Oscar doesn’t reply, he’s too focused on what he’s doing with mechanical precision he usually reserves for driving. He bites and sucks gently into the soft skin by Lando’s neck. He works slowly, tilting his head every few bites and licks, he doesn’t stay on one spot for long.
“Huh, you really did miss me, didn’t you?” Lando says it like it’s divine revelation, like something truly unexpected.
“Yeah I really fucking did.” Oscar pulls his head back to look up at Lando. His eyes look darker than usual, his pupils blown out so wide they practically cover his iris. “So fucking much Lan.” It’s mumbled against Lando’s lips as he pulls him up for a kiss. It’s heavy and rough, and the only split when the danger of passing out from lack of oxygen becomes real. Even then they’re still attached, leaning into each other.
“Let’s move to the room, yeah?” It’s all Lando manages to get out before he’s being manhandled down the hall and tossed onto their bed.
It’s afterwards, when they’re laying tangled in the sheets fighting off sleep to be in this moment together for longer, that Lando says it, “I missed you too, you know. A lot. Summer break you’re coming with me. Don’t care how many rumours it starts. I love you, and I want you there with me.” He pulls him in further like he’s afraid the moment will disappear.
“We’ll figure it out, Lan. We always do.” Oscar manages to mumble it into his pillow, losing the battle to sleep. “Oh, you might want to pack a scarf or something for MTC on Monday.”
He frowns and turns to face him. “What the hell did you do Oscar?” The concern is evident, he knows Oscar’s a tease just like him, loves that about him even. Which is why he knows Oscar’s gone and done something just as ridiculous as he did to him. The only reply he receives is the soft evened out breathing of a very much asleep Oscar.
The next morning Lando wakes up to find a blotchy 81 sucked into the side of his neck. He puts up a fuss about hiding it, the same way Oscar did all those weeks ago. And just like Oscar he traces his fingers along it while brushing his teeth later that evening admiring it.
It’s perfect, he thinks, definitely worth the suspicious amount of turtle necks I’ll be wearing for the next week.
(Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!)
Oscar sighs, head dropping onto the cool surface of the kitchen counter next to his laptop. It’s not even noon and he’s already ready to curl back into bed.
He’s been in and out of zoom lobbies since about 9 AM; a team call that could have been an email, an engineering debrief that summarised to something a long the lines of, “the car looks decent, lets go chase some podiums next week,” and lastly, a 20 minute lecture from Sophie in PR about being nice to his teammate.
That last one was particularly annoying. What did they expect? Oscar to be well adjusted in three months? For him to go from years of racing alongside his husband — and his husband only — to suddenly having a hot-shot 20 something rookie as his main rival? Honestly, he’d laugh it wasn’t the third time he’s had this exact meeting.
He groans, squeezing his eyes shut and counting back from ten with a steady breath at each number. Right as he reaches one, he feels the familiar weight of Lando’s fingers along his spine; starting roughly a third of the way down, trailing up between his shoulders, and settling against the sliver of exposed skin at the base of his neck.
Oscar hums in content, the tension in his shoulders easing beneath the grounding touch of Lando’s palm. After a beat, he pushes off the counter, turning in his chair so that he’s facing Lando; looking up at him with tired eyes that go beyond lack of sleep.
“You look like shit,” Lando teases, soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Oscar laughs despite himself, dropping his head against Lando’s chest as he does, inhaling the familiar lavender he’s grown fond of over the years. Lando laughs as well, arms moving to circle Oscar’s shoulders, drawing him even further in.
They stay like that for several minutes, basking in the late morning sun and each other’s company. The only sounds coming from the faint whirl of their fridge and the light spring breeze wafting through the half open balcony door.
“Why’d you have to retire,” Oscar mumbles, face pressed to the divot of Lando’s shoulder. “Whole thing’s shit without you. They’re making me do teammate bonding now. Fucking trust exercises and all sorts of bullshit. Ridiculous honestly.”
Lando snorts, biting his lip to stiffle the laugh threatening to spill over, face pressing further in Oscar’s neck as he does.
“Don’t laugh,” Oscar protests, lightly shoving Lando’s waist. “It’s not funny.”
“I mean, it’s a little funny,” Lando grins, pulling back to look Oscar in the eye. Oscar frowns, feigning offence before a soft huff passes his lips, because, yes, it is a little funny. Frustrating and benign, sure, but yes, he does see the humour in it after years of praise for the well-maintained pairing him and Lando had for over a decade.
“Just miss having you there,” Oscar mumbles, cheeks blushing over a deeper shade of red than usual. It’s honest in a way they’ve both been tentative about for the last year after Lando first told Oscar he wouldn’t be renewing his contract.
It had been difficult; Oscar wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the sport he’s been in love with practically his whole life nor the only teammate he’s had in it thus far. But this wasn’t about him; it was about Lando, and fuck if he was going to be anything less than supportive of whatever Lando wanted to do next.
“Miss you too,” Lando whispers, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against Oscar’s lips, eyes slipping shut as he rests there for a minute. “Come get breakfast with me?” He asks after a second.
“Had breakfast about five hours ago,” Oscar teases, already blindly reaching behind him to shut the lid of his laptop.
“Oh shut up,” Lando groans, lightly smacking his shoulder, their hands intertwining as walk down the small hallway to their front door.
I've been trying to write this as a drabble for days now but my brain refuses to co operate so have some headcannons instead
Inspired by 2 main things:
Landoscar continuously using the same songs in their photo dumps
And also, the real person fact that Lando plays music loud enough for Oscar to hear it from his drivers room.
Oscar jokingly starts sending song requests to Lando when he's playing his music very loud while they're in their drivers rooms. He doesn't think much of it until he notices that Lando does actually start playing some of the songs.
After a few months of this Lando starts a Spotify jam for whenever they're at the track because it's "easier than manually adding all of Oscar's song requests."
Once Spotify adds that joint playlist feature that shows you your compatability scores Lando insists they do it. They end up having a fairly high score (85%) considering Lando listens to everything and Oscar mostly sticks to house and the adjacent genres.
After Lando complains about how inaccurate the Spotify generated playlist is he starts a regular shared playlist which gets played before sessions and whenever they're together.
Slowly as they become closer and more comfortable with each other, the privacy door that separates their drivers room starts getting left open while they're in there, turning it into one big shared space. The excuse Oscar uses is, "it's easier to hear the music without the door blocking it." It's a lie, but Lando doesn't say anything about it.
When they do stuff individually they both find themselves instinctively turning on the shared playlist. Going on a run / doing a gym session? Driving to and from the factory? Sitting around at home? You best believe that playlist is on in the background.
^ Also on this, they start using the playlist as a way to feel closer to each other away from race weekends / during breaks. To be point where their friends start noticing the differnce in their music taste. Lando starts listening to house more often than other genres, and Oscar starts listening to a variety of genres instead of turning in the usual house playlist he's had for years. Yes they both get teased about it endlessly.
Overtime music becomes a form of communication for them.
When they're old and grey they start collecting records, CDs, mixtapes, etc. They keep their collection in the living room and also have a really cool set up for it.
Every morning they have breakfast together and alternate who gets to choose the record that gets played that morning.
Thinking thoughts about landoscar after that double podium, so have this mini blurb
Outside, the wind howls, rain pattering against the window as the rain starts to really set in for the evening. Their flight, usually immediately after the race finishes, had been moved to the morning — all flights grounded due to the weather.
Oscar sighs, resting his head against the junction of Lando's shoulder. He brings his hand up to rest against Lando’s chest, tracing lazy patterns against his skin — blobs that are suspiciously shaped like the miami track.
Above him, Lando's monologuing; giving him a play by play of his race, right from turn 1 to the checked flag. Oscar listens attentively, chiming in with his own commentary when appropriate.
It's completely animated yet lazy in a balance they've mastered over the years. Sentences go half finished because the other just gets it. There's more hums and nods than actual words, because, well, it's not necessary. Lando starts a sentence and Oscar knows what he means before he's even half way through it.
Somewhere in the beautiful chaos of it, they start to bleed together, hums and yeahs becoming indistinguishable from one another. Hand gestures mirroring one another as they illustrate differnt thoughts.
It goes on for ages, shifting through topics naturally. Thoughts sitting half spoken yet fully interpreted.
Eventually, Oscar yawns, his fingers twitching against Lando’s skin mid sentence. He does his best to stiffle it, far too invested in finishing his point about how the car feels with the new upgrades.
Lando laughs lightly, soft and a little breathless, squeezing Oscar as he turns off the lights. Oscar keeps talking, adamant on ignoring the exhaustion seeping in.
Somewhere between talking about the suspension changes and the difference in the side paneling his words start to slur, syllables catching on one another as he fights off sleep. A loosing battle really.
Within minutes he's out cold, cheek squished into Lando's chest while his fingers fall flat, his breathing soft and even.
Lando smiles, kissing the crown of his head as he drifts off as well.
Outside, the thunder rumbles over them, chaos in comparison to the soft scene within their hotel room.
Also check out the domestic landoscar collection that this is part of here!
star's notes — sneaky mention of my favourite headcanon which has been all over the dash recently (tracing tracks on each other’s skin without intending to). Also don't let the fluff fool you, they definetly fucked nasty right before this. This is just their pillow talk – cars and racing.
for the one word prompt LANDOSCAR AND STAR (i hope no one else sent this alr lol bc its perfect!!)
ship + one word prompt game
Hi Lee. Thanks for the ask, this truly is the perfect match. Star writing about landoscar and stars. Truly is written in the stars. Hope you like it !
Quick context: this takes place in an alternative 2027 where Oscar wins the championship in 2026 immediately after Lando won his <3
The week had been busy, Lando and Oscar working around each other with practiced ease while they did what they had to. Lando was in meeting half the time — Quadrant, his management team, Jon — a whole assortment of things that needed to be done or organised before preseason officially started. Oscar was equally as busy, such is the life of the new champion.
“Morning sleepyhead,” Oscar whispers against Lando’s cheek, wrapping his arms around his waist as he walks into their kitchen, finally back from an obscenely early meeting. Lando hums in response, eyes half lidded as he turns to wrap his own arms around Oscar, leaning them against the counter next to the stove. They sway in place for a minute, absorbing the first moment they’ve had with just for themselves in days.
“I got the final design for my helmet this morning,” Oscar whispers eventually, tentative with how he broaches the topic of racing.
“Yeah?” Lando asks, pulling back enough to look Oscar in the eye. Oscar hums, stepping back to pick up the box he set down on the counter moments before. He opens the bag, shifting the crash helmet between his hands for a minute before passing it to Lando.
Lando turns it in his hands, brushing his fingers over the familiar patterns. It hasn’t changed much since last year — well apart from the obvious lack of 8 at the top where his number sits. It still has the familiar mix of blue, red, and yellow; the southern cross at the temples; sponsor decals that match his own. Nothing new to it really, Lando’s about to tease him for that fact when he notices it. On the right side of his helmet, just next to the connection point for the HANS device — a small gold star.
Lando stills, rubbing his thumb along it. He shouldn’t be surprised, Oscar earned that star. It makes sense to incorporate it into his helmet. It’s just —
“It’s supposed to mirror yours,” Oscar whispers, gaze transfixed on his twisted fingers, doing his best to swallow his nerves. “I wouldn’t —“ he cuts himself off with a deep breath, looking up to Lando now. “I wouldn’t have done it without you. Without you constantly pushing me to be better. Without you as a teammate. Without— without you as a partner,” he whispers, voice cracking on the last part, cheeks blushing over a deeper red with every word.
Lando sets the helmet down without breaking eye contact, stepping forward till he’s standing hardly a foot away from Oscar who continues to wring his hands.
“Shut up and kiss me,” Lando mumbles, cupping Oscar’s jaw as he leans forward. Oscar follows willingly, laughing into it as he presses their lips together, love and adoration seeping into the action.
