No Boys Tell Us What Happened In Vegas

#will never recover #landoscar #mctwinks

I will never recover from "who's that in front of you?" "Oscah!" "Is that your boy?" "Uhuh!🥰"

Did a 20 minute drabble sprint with my speedy gentlemen buds and came out with this!

Prompt: “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

I chose to do some Landoscar fluff :)

Under the cut!

It starts out quiet.

Like Lando isn’t even sure anything is even different. It’s casual. It’s normal.

But something has shifted in the way Oscar Piastri looks at him. And Lando doesn't know how to deal with it other than internal flailing and alarms screeching in his head.

“Here,” Oscar offers with a small nod, handing Lando his forgotten water bottle he had left abandoned in the hospitality an hour earlier.

Lando takes it from Oscar’s outstretched hand and feels their fingers brush just the tiniest bit from the pass. Lando shivers. He hopes it was internal shivering that is imperceptible to others, imperceptible to Oscar.

“Thanks.” Lando says mutely. And then Oscar does the damndest thing.

He winks at him.

Lando melts into a puddle. What is wrong with him?

—

Lando really should have the couch of his driver’s room facing the door and not facing away from the door. It was a tragic mistake in strategy on his part.

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise when he feels warm breath ghost over the back of his neck and a soft thud against the back of the couch.

He drops his phone. The traitorous device snaps into his chest and bounces onto the floor.

“Hey.” Oscar breathes down the back of his neck.

Lando makes a slightly mangled noise in response and scrambles to the floor to look for his phone. Nevermind it being a traitorous device, it’s now his savior to get Oscar’s breath away from his neck before he does something stupid like turn around and pull his face to Lando’s.

Lando finally grabs his phone and looks up at Oscar, who is now leaning over the top of the couch and tilting his head in a way Lando would die before he admits he finds cute. He’s smiling and waiting for Lando to get himself together.

It strikes Lando then. Oscar’s always waiting for him. Never pushy. Never impatient. Just. Waiting. Like he’s got all the time in the world for him.

He clears his throat. “Is it a habit of yours to frighten men in their own driver’s rooms?”

Oscar laughs, quiet and jerky, like he’s trying to bend over the front of the couch. He shakes his head. “Nah, just thought you’d appreciate these.”

At that, Oscar reveals a bag of stroopwafels he had been hiding behind the couch.

Lando gasps and climbs back up the couch to Oscar’s space.

“You dog. You did not get me stroopwafels.” Lando says in disbelief, trying to paw them out of Oscar’s grasp.

He hands them over with no issue, and Lando notices Oscar’s fingers linger just the slightest bit over Lando’s.

“Hopefully they make up for scaring the living daylights out of you?”

Lando nods his head hastily and starts tearing the package open before someone can come take them from him. Before Jon can take them from him.

“How did you get these past security?” Lando says with awe while offering Oscar a warm stroopwafel.

Oscar takes it and pops a corner of it into his mouth.

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

And Lando feels like the air has been sucked out of the room at the absolute sincerity in Oscar’s tone.

And then Lando finally looks up at Oscar, really looks at him. And he finds something unwavering in his eyes.

“Oh.” Lando gets out quietly.

“Yeah.” Oscar agrees, nodding his head a bit and then scratching the back of his neck.

“Would you get me chicken nuggets too?”

A laugh punches out of Oscar at that. And Lando appreciates the warmth that spreads through his chest at seeing Oscar like this. There’s something there. Lando just has to figure out what it is.

What Lando would find out later, is that Oscar already knew what it was. He would just wait a while longer for Lando to catch on.

—

lil oscar sketch!

this tiktok is my roman empire

they always make me cry

#Martian #sebxmark

martian + excerpts from T.S Eliot's The Journey of the Magi

a passionate oscar piastri is all i need in my life

none of the above lol, but I'll stop at miscarriage, I just can't

Hi, quick question. Are you sillyseason.png?

If so the Oscar Piastri, that you made for the cak3art-collab, is absolutely amazing. Love all the details and the soft gaze. The posture and shading are breathtaking 🧡🧡🖤🧡🧡

I am, yes!! Thank you so much. it was so nice to be asked to join this Collab, though it was certainly a challenge since I avoid colouring anything like the plague.

In the end it became a bit of a love letter to the texture of Oscar's skin 💌💕

Thank you again for this lovely ask, it made my Sunday 💛💛💛

I want this video in a tattoo proud dad vibes💙

#markwebber #op81 #oscarpiastri

''You're doing amazing, sweetie.''

Nooo Ellie!! Don’t delete! Stop it fhejdkd 👀😂

For the poly prompts; What about “which one of you idiots is warming their icy little feet on me?! you need to get that checked!”

With Max/Charles/Lando/Oscar? 🥰

ajdfaskdlj dont worry i'm not ACTUALLY deleting i'm just. in a weird mood about my writing lmao. ANYWAY love these four excellent choice

“which one of you idiots is warming their icy little feet on me?! you need to get that checked!”

Max should’ve known, really. He should’ve known that when he flopped down on the bed in their master bedroom for a little nap he would end up being absolutely piled by his boyfriends.

Oscar is first. Max has barely laid down when he shuffles into the room, e-reader in hand, and sits down next to Max without a word, flipping open the case of his e-reader as he goes. Max fondly rolls his eyes and tucks himself into Oscar’s chest, let’s Oscar’s wrap an arm around him and pull him closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Max’s head.

Max dozes like that for a bit, wrapped up in Oscar’s arms, his nose buried in the fabric of Oscar’s t-shirt, comforted by the smell of laundry detergent and the soft patterns Oscar is drawing on his arm with his fingers.

Charles is next, because Charles is a clingy bastard who has some sort of weird sixth sense for cuddle piles. He’s much less gentle about it then Oscar, simply flops himself down into the nonexistent space between Oscar and Max’s body and then makes a happy little noise as Max and Oscar grumble and rearrange themselves to accommodate him.

Max’s arm ends up trapped under Charles’s body, and Charles’s nose is pressed into his neck, and he can feel the soft puff of Charles’s breath ghosting over his collarbone. Oscar’s hand has moved to Max’s hair now, and he’s absentmindedly playing with the strands, still holding his e-reader in the other.

Lando takes the longest to realize what’s going on, too engaged in his Twitch stream to realize all of his boyfriends have gone missing. When he does realize, he loudly complains about being left out and then launches himself at the pile of bodies on the bed.

“Lando,” Oscar wheezes, as the e-reader goes flying and Charles lets out a loud yelp as Lando’s elbow lands somewhere near his abdomen. Max curses and only just manages to avoid Lando’s other elbow as he grabs him by the waist and tries to rearrange them in a way that works.

Lando squeaks, flails his arms around, nearly hits Oscar in the face as he does. There’s a lot of shuffling, and way too many limbs, and when Max finally thinks they’ve got it-

“Which one of you idiots is warming their icy little feet on me?! You need to get that checked!”

“Lando,” Charles and Oscar say in unison, and all right. Fair. Max glares at Lando. Lando pouts at him.

“My feet are cold,” he says.

Max snorts. “Understatement of the year, Norris. Get them off my fucking leg.”

It’s Oscar’s turn to yelp. “That doesn’t mean put them on my leg, Jesus! Go put on some fucking socks you lunatic.”

Lando pouts harder, turns his gaze to Charles.

“If you put your little icicles on my I swear to god I’m driving your car into the gravel during the next race,” Charles says solemnly.

Lando groans loudly and hauls himself off the bed. “What is the point of having three boyfriends if none of them allow you to warm your feet on them. Useless, the lot of you,” he grumbles. But when he returns, he’s wearing a fluffy pair of socks Max is pretty sure are actually Charles’s.

He crawls into bed a lot more carefully this time, slots himself into the free space Charles and Max have created between them. Oscar’s giving up on reading, scooting himself down the bed to lay down as well, and then Max finally, finally gets his well-deserved nap.

Or well. He gets to close his eyes for a good ten minutes, which is when Lando rolls over and absolutely elbows him in the nose, but still. Nice while it lasted.