https_cypher
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Oscar bristles, sucking his teeth and grunting, “So because I’m not swearing up a storm or trying to tear your limbs off I’m, what, too sweet? That’s what you said.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Oscar says, “I thought you wanted me worked up?”
Lando laughs again. Oscar wants to wrap his hands around his throat, feel the laugh under his fingers, press down to quiet it.
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Oscar is too sweet for Lando, so he says. Oscar is convinced he's wrong, and he aims to do what he must to make Lando see that.
Bookmarked by https_cypher
07 Feb 2026
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“Grindr a good place to make friends?”
Oscar nods, palms moving to settle against his own ribs, holding himself. “As good as any.”Or, Oscar downloads Grindr after a drunken night out, just to take a look.
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George knew from a very beginning that this was a hideous idea. He wished he could say no to Alex when he was trying to lure him into dubious events. But Alex usually was insufferable in his desire to make George join him everywhere he didn't want to go alone.
And there he is. In a living room of Lando's Monaco apartment with a bunch of his colleagues, tipsy and regretful about choices he's made in his life so far.
Bookmarked by https_cypher
07 Feb 2026
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“I can’t believe this keeps happening.” Lando says, once Oscar’s sat back against the headboard. “I’ve never even had one sex injury before, and now we’re on the third.”
Oscar smiles gravely. “We’ll get it right next time.” He says.
“I’m a little scared of what else we could injure next time.” Lando mumbles.
“Don’t be.” Oscar says. “I’m kind of determined to get it right, now. Against all the odds and shit.”
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4 times Lando and Oscar tried to get down to business and got it wrong + 1 time they got it right
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Silverstone had screamed itself hoarse for him, had waved Union Jacks and neon flags bearing his logo until the grandstands looked like a living, breathing sea of his colors. The world loved him today — revered him with a ferocity he once thought could fill every hollow space inside him.
And it meant nothing.
Because every time he blinked, he saw it again — the angry flush creeping up Oscar's normally composed face during the national anthem. The mechanical, joyless way he'd raised his champagne bottle during celebrations, spraying it at no one in particular with all the enthusiasm of someone washing their car. The way his eyes, usually so warm when they found Lando's, had turned flat and distant, like someone had flipped a switch and turned off everything that made him Oscar.