Nibor
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He hadn’t been meaning to find Lando. Hadn’t been searching, hadn’t even been thinking about the man. Well, maybe a little, but no more than one usually would think about a teammate. And still, Oscar ends up in his room.
How, you may ask?
The way Oscar always enters rooms. In the night, with the shadows.
Because Lando is not the only one with a job on the side of being a formula 1 driver.
Though streaming might be a little less odd than being a bogeyman. -
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“He’s out! Lando Norris is out of the car! And not a second too late, the McLaren has caught fire! Does anyone know where the medics are?
…
Wait, what is Norris- He’s running towards his teammate Oscar Piastri’s car! What is he doing? He’s- I don’t know if he’s allowed to do tha-The car is on fire! Oscar Piastri’s car is on fire! Oh, oh dear. Both drivers are too close to the fire-we can’t-”
The camera’s turn away.Soulmate AU
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Oscar books a beautiful Cottage in the middle of nowhere to escape the busy F1 world and celebrate Christmas with his boyfriend Lando.
Lando thinks it’s the perfect opportunity for their first time.---
“I want you to take me, right here and now.”
The mug of hot chocolate wobbles threateningly in Oscar’s hands. “What?” he repeats, but his Australian accent is so heavy with shock that it sounds more like; ‘Whot?’.
Lando dares to smirk at him. “You heard what I said. Take me.” -
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Lando has a secret. While others presented early in life, he has not. Everyone assumes he’s a beta. A dramatic beta. A fighting-for-the-championship beta. An insecure beta.
And that’s good, because Alphas are usually assholes and omegas just don’t make in in formula one. They just don’t.
But then he finishes another race, wins it in fact, and something is different. When he gets out of the car, he first thinks he might have accidentally peed himself. It happens.
He hasn’t. He has presented.
“Oscar, what are you doing?” He forces a stern tone in his voice, while all he wants to do is press into Oscar’s touch and sigh with relief.
“Sorry.” Oscar stays right where he is. “I had to check.”
“Check what?”
It’s then that Oscar takes a step back. He looks dazed, overwhelmed. “Lands. I think you’re in heat?” -
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Lando is more Flemish than he lets on, and listened to a girls-group called K3 in his youth. Now he has rediscovered the music, looking for nice beats for his pre-race ritual.
Those beats reach Oscar’s ears as well, and being the language freak that he is, he’s instantly curious to the meaning of the lyrics. Turns out the songs Lando has been serenading him with, are Love songs.Five times Lando listens to K3 and sings along, one time Oscar does. (To let Lando know his messages have been received.)
Recent series
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Oscar is used to the noise, the voices, the music on repeat. It’s the same every night. He moves unnoticed among the crowd, hides on the balcony and waits for the countdown that will free him – 3, 2, 1, happy New Year, and all of this is over. Until the next night, of course.
He’s used to wasting time away in a corner, praying for time to go faster and save him from his misery. But today, there’s a pair of blue green eyes fixed on him, curious.
“Not enjoying the party?”
Oscar is too shocked to pretend, has forgotten what it feels like to be known. His next sentence escapes his lips before he can stop it, before it registers how fucking weird it sounds.
“You can see me?”
or: oscar is cursed to live only one night a year, new year’s eve. the years pass him by and he stays unsubstantial, until one day someone looks at him and sees him.
Bookmarked by Nibor
28 Jan 2026
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Lando Norris had a Michelin-starred life in London, until his grandma’s will yanked him back to the middle-of-nowhere town he’d escaped. The catch? She left her struggling waffle shop 50/50 to him… and to Oscar Piastri.
Oscar. The hot, petty baker next door who’s been his childhood enemy since the Great Kangaroo Incident of 2005 (a misunderstanding, for the record). Now, thanks to a clause only a chaotic grandma would write, they’re stuck running the place together.
It’s a disaster.
Oscar thinks Lando’s a pretentious city boy who abandoned his roots. Lando thinks Oscar’s a judgemental hermit who seasons everything with spite.
Their only common ground is a mutual desire to win the town’s annual holiday thing—mostly so they can gloat over each other.
Between fighting over batter consistency and who gets to use the good mixer, they’ve got twelve days to turn this mess around. But as grudges start to thaw faster than frozen blueberries, they might discover that their grandma’s real recipe wasn’t for waffles at all.
It was for this. Whatever 'this' is.
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- Part 2 of landoscar bites ☆
- Language:
- English
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- 51,440
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by Nibor
22 Jan 2026
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Lando glanced at his guitar, leaning against the wall. His hands knew that language intimately. They knew how to shape sound, how to coax emotion out of strings and wood. They knew how to say things he couldn’t articulate out loud.
He looked down at his hands.
If his hands could do that—if they could speak to strangers in crowded rooms, make people feel understood, seen—
Then surely they could learn this.
Surely they could learn how to speak to Oscar.
or: Oscar is mute and Lando learns his language.
Bookmarked by Nibor
19 Jan 2026
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"Rules are like this," Lando continued, his voice taking on a businesslike, almost coach-like tone. "If a number is drawn that only one of us has, that person covers it with a chip. The other person either takes a sip of whiskey..." he tapped a nail against his glass, "...or tells a truth. If the number is on both our cards, we both cover it and move to the next ball."
"'A truth?" Oscar clarified, looking up. "You're suggesting we ask questions?"
"No," Lando shook his head. "We say the truth we think needs to be said. About me. About you. About each other. About us. About what matters."
Bookmarked by Nibor
18 Jan 2026
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Lando wanted to get into running. What better place to start than joining a running club? Will he find someone there to help him in his aspirations to run a full marathon?
Bookmarked by Nibor
17 Jan 2026