limbodadox
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"Do you know where you are, Oscar?" Oh, he likes that – how the boy's eyes snap to his whenever he says his name.
"It's a, um–" His voice cracks. "It's a winner's room, isn't it?"
He shifts, stretching his arms along the back of the sofa languidly – not missing how younger-Oscar's eyes drift to his chest, his waist, the defined muscles of his shoulders.
"And what's the loser meant to do in a winner's room, Oscar?"
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save me 'til the party is over by chemical_imbalance (ghost_sodas)
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
25 Aug 2025
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“Oscar, kiss me.”
And that’s when he smells it. Like he could smell it that night with the horrid blue drink, and taking shots out of Carlos Sainz’s hand, and the brunette girl who touched Lando the way Oscar wanted to.
Oscar suddenly remembers Lando’s drunk. Wasted. Whatever you want to call it.
Because why would Lando, sober Lando, ever want to kiss Oscar? Lando wants Oscar to kiss him because he’s drunk, because he thinks it would be cute, because he’s just gone to the biggest party he’s ever gone to and is high off life.
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or, wish you were sober by conan gray but about landoscar & they get a happy ending
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Lando groaned in frustration. “Bastard,” he muttered to himself.
“Sorry, mate, I was trying to fix it,” Oscar shrank back sheepishly.
“Not you, the— hair!” Lando couldn’t see well enough in the camera to get it to play right with the rest of his hair. “Unbelievable.”
He dropped his hands and looked at Oscar helplessly.
OR Lando is a useless bottom and needs Oscar to fix his hair. Except Oscar is also a useless bottom hopelessly besotted with his teammate.
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Heading to the final chicane, Lando knows he has one more chance to get this right. And that’s when it happens.
Lap 67. Turn 1.
Lando goes for the outside, could’ve sworn there was space.
It happens in a blink of an eye and slow motion all at once. The slightest of collisions and Oscar’s out of the race.
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Amnesia Fic
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In response, the younger’s hand came to rest on his teammate’s jaw, thumb brushing lightly over Nico’s cheek. He leaned in, murmuring provocatively near his lips: “Concreto.”
The older driver chuckled. “That probably means ‘concrete,’ mate.” He shook his head, biting back a bigger smile. “You’d be surprised how similar some words are.”
Gabriel blinked. “Ah, shit. Yeah.” He nodded, squinting as if in deep thought. “Should’ve thought this through.”