norristri

[norristri]

this month is shaping to be the first since december (i think???) that i haven't posted any nes fic so here's a drabble that's meant to be the start of a oneshot but i don't have any new ideas for it

so high school

lando/oscar, drabble, 320 words, popstar!lando

Lando doesn't remember much about the night he met Oscar.

He doesn't know how well that will play over their future wedding guests, not even knowing how you met the love of your life. But Oscar has his own version of the story, and it's the one they share to the public.

“I attended one of his concerts,” Oscar says, his eyes already crinkling.

“The one in Melbourne?” an interviewer will cut in. They always do. They want the full context, the whole picture, a new quote to make rounds.

Oscar doesn't complain, doesn't get tired of saying the same story. “Yeah, the one in Melbourne. I gave him a friendship bracelet. My sisters told me it's tradition.”

The interviewers coo, “Adorable!”

The rest is history. The rest is their history.

They don't tell about the string of mutual friends it took to get Lando and Oscar in the same room, or how Oscar didn't even want to attend the afterparty, or how Lando watches Formula One but has never rooted for Oscar before. How it was awkward, the first few seconds, but then Lando cracked a joke about something. He doesn't remember. Who cares anyway? All that matters is Oscar laughed so hard, so true, Lando ended up making jokes all night.

Lando's family doesn't believe the bracelet story, of course.

“It's not really like you, is it?” Flo says.

Lando can't defend himself from that one. It's not really like him, but that's the point. It's Oscar's story, and if he portrays them like a pair of high school kids who stumble over bracelets and bad jokes, then they must've been.

Lando shows Flo the bracelet, neon green and white beads. Oscar's number on it.

They've agreed to gloss over one important fact to keep up apperances. Oscar gave the bracelet after their first kiss, some two hours after they met. Not exactly adorable.

Memorable, though, the kiss.

[norristri]

hii! are you still doing this ask game? what about 10, N and ꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ (at work, far later than you should be) for Lando and Oscar? that would be amazing. thank you! have a great day.

public appearances

landoscar, rated t, 1k, future fic, redbull!osc, wag!lando (?)

10: "i can't sleep either. mind if i join you?" + N: fondness + at work, far later than you should be

Lando finds Oscar in his office, right where the staff said he'd be. There's a split second where Lando considers leaving him alone. If Oscar wanted to, he would have been home hours ago.

Lando pushes past this tiny doubt. He made the trip, went out and did the difficult parts already. He can't honestly be tripping over a simple knock.

But he is.

It must be the place, this unfamiliar fortress of red and blue. 

Lando knocks four times. It's an old code, back when they were still teammates. 

It doesn't take long for Oscar to open his door. “Lan?” 

“Hey,” Lando says, sliding easily into Oscar's waiting arms. “Got worried about you.”

“I texted—”

“I know. I wanted to see you.” Lando pulls back, taking stock of Oscar.

Of course Oscar hasn’t drastically changed in the past 48 hours. Not unless he decided to chop his hair in a fit of frustration or inspiration, or a little bit of both. Lando’s been there before, Silverstone ‘25 and Qatar ‘26 to note a few.

But Oscar hasn’t gone that route. He looks fine, unharmed. Unchanged, as if he’s not flying out tomorrow for one of the biggest races of his career. Anyway, it's not Oscar's first championship-deciding moment. Not his last, too. 

Oscar locks the door behind them, keeping a hand on Lando's back. Oscar's dimmed the lights; the mood's not half-bad, though that might mean Oscar's planning to stay long.

“How's the preps going?” Lando asks, casual. He doesn't expect an honest reply. He can't forget the legal battle he found himself in when Red Bull management didn't want to give him security clearance because of his “unique status in the sport”. 

(Lando told his lawyers he wanted to make a statement along the lines of “the only status I have is being the supportive partner of your number one driver so fuck you and fuck your sponsors who keep sending me contracts”. They shot it down immediately.)

“It's killing me,” Oscar says, flat and serious, “but I'm not doing any good work. Give me five and we'll go home.”

“So you can spend two hours twisting and hogging the blanket? Don't think so.”

Oscar's face softens. Even now, with his smile lines more pronounced and his jaws sharper, there's still pieces of the fresh-faced rookie Lando first saw, hunched over at the side of the McLaren motorhome, hiding his Alpine team kit. 

God, they'd been so young. Still young and wild when they won their first championship.

Lando had been calm back then, when he was in Oscar's position. Calmer than anyone expected him to be.

Oscar, Lando learned some years ago, would be sleepless and restless. Funny, considering Oscar can sleep if you so much as don't bother him for two seconds. 

Lando buries his face on Oscar's neck, that frickin’ F1-shaped neck. “Can't sleep either, so. Mind if I join you?”

Oscar nods, sighing. “Sorry about this.”

“You don't have to. You're not a bad person to spend the night with.”

Oscar's laugh is as sweet as ever. How did Lando let another teammate, another team, hear it? 

For the second time, Lando draws back first. “I can hang on the couch while you work, yeah?”

“That'd be perfect, Lan.”

Lando makes himself comfortable in the lounge area of Oscar's office. Their McLaren offices had been equally spacious, if not more. Brighter, too. But it's obvious Oscar's made the space more personal. There's big, fluffy pillows on the couch, Aussie trinkets on the shelf, a painting of his first Red Bull win next to team pictures, and— at this, Lando's breath hitches —traces of Lando. His last mini helmet. Framed pictures of them, of Lando.

Subtlety has been lost on Oscar through the years. It's a mystery why it took so long for Lando to catch the signs. 

Oscar resumes his data dive, lips bitten red, hand on his chin. “Tell me if you get bored.”

“Tell me if you get tired,” Lando says. He opens up Instagram and scrolls, liking post after post of retired drivers on his feed. Max's kids are dominating in karting. George is somewhere in Spain.

Lando remembers being like this. Being 24, 25 years old, going to Oscar's office next-door, talking strategy, listening to Oscar's voice, feeling so fond. Incredibly fond. What Lando feels right now is love, nothing short of it, but back then, he only called it fondness. He only allowed it to be fondness.

“Fond of him, yes?” Andrea said, the one time he caught Lando and Oscar debriefing in private. 

“Sure. Everyone is.” Lando shrugged. Oscar was well-liked within the team, adored everywhere else.

It's the same warmth, though. The same bubbles and butterflies in his stomach. Then it must’ve been love in the first place. 

But Lando's wanted Oscar since forever ago. Been sure of it. 

But Lando hadn't, and neither did Oscar. They wasted years. At least we know better now. At least we're sure we want this, Oscar said. He sees the brighter side of things.

“Next season,” Oscar says, breaking the silence, “Melbourne’s back as the first race.”

“Uh-huh. I saw.”

“Do you– would you want to watch from my garage?”

Lando looks up from his phone. He keeps his voice steady. “Is that something you’d like?”

Oscar's answer is soft, just like him. “Yeah, I'd like that. Would you?”

Lando has his own stash of Red Bull hoodies, stolen from Oscar’s closet but never worn outside. He has an OP81-branded beanie he only gets to wear skiing in France. A tiny teddy bear of Oscar still in his McLaren colours, kept high on Lando’s shelf, next to his helmets. He brings it down every time he watches the races on TV. 

Two years since Lando’s retirement, he’s made a grand total of three public appearances. It’s never the right time. 

And it’s Oscar’s time now. It has been for a long while. 

“I have my outfit planned already,” Lando says. He crosses the distance and kisses Oscar, sure and deep. It's an answer on its own.

Oscar smiles into the kiss, as he usually does. “Is it too much if I say I'm excited to see you in my garage?”

Lando shakes his head. “I’ll even wear your merch.”

[norristri]

uncertainty principle — 814, driver!lando x single dad!oscar, 15.0k

Lando Norris is not immune to karting prodigies and their unfairly attractive fathers. Thus begins a modern love story.

[norristri]

uncertainty principle — 814, driver!lando x single dad!oscar, 15.0k

Lando Norris is not immune to karting prodigies and their unfairly attractive fathers. Thus begins a modern love story.

[norristri]

[norristri]

landoscar (my love)

but my tracks are better (@bright-and-burning)

i read this like... daily. on average. it never gets less hot.

Capybara Cupid (@1425fivefive)

perfect adorable may i please have another

Casual (@loquarocoeur)

THE landoscar roommates AU. i have read it an embarrassing amount of times and i'll fucking do it again.

except you (you can stay) (@fear8not1)

favorite favorite favorite comfort fic cannot even COUNT the number of times i have read this. safe, comforting lando my beloved

Impasse of Biting (@wanderingblindly)

i have never met a vampire fic i do not love. and this one is exquisite.

lay your open hand (@strawberry-daiquiris)

immaculately constructed a/b/o.... immaculately characterized landoscar.... imacculate

Pillow Duty (@loquarocoeur)

precious precious precious i adore sleepy lando

purring in my lap ('cause he loves me) (@nyoomfruits)

oscat my beloved

Questionably Homo Guidebooks Series (@wanderingblindly)

fake ? dating ? ig ? superb. tingly.

space debris (our memories)

astronaut ! lando ! engineer ! oscar ! this fic is soooo celestial. floaty, ephemeral... yeah. love her work.

You Bring Me Closer to God (@wanderingblindly)

singer lando. the Way He Is in this is so correct.

you spin me right round, baby

time loop ! i will never forget this fic. it is flawless. i want 100 spinoffs and that still wouldn't be enough. every detail is so chef's kiss.

[norristri]

and can we please talk about this because what is this? why are they like this? and can we please get more about them like this?

[norristri]

re this post

bodyguard!oscar landoscar au where oscar took up a bodyguard gig as a side hustle after he graduated uni before he could land a 'real' job. he's an engineering grad who loves f1 and yep you guessed it, still a die-hard lando norris fanboy since his karting days. imagine him, with all of his reputation of being cool, calm, and collected, fumbling and getting (turned on) flustered at everything bc he's being hired to protect his childhood (and current) idol

[norristri]

Am i doing this correctly

[norristri]

taking photos

from this photoset:

[norristri]

fanart for the incredible capybara cupid by @1425fivefive... literally the best comfort read with the most endearing characters ever!!! obsessed with overly affectionate capy Greg and lando's gentle little fennec fox named EARS. pls read immediately if u haven't

[norristri]

@mecachrome posted a thing about fennec fox lando and it gave me the brain wigglies so!!! here we are lmao

There’s some kind of cat in Oscar’s drivers room. It’s small and white, with giant ears and a pointy snout, and curled up in a little ball on top of Oscar’s discarded ‘Good Times’ hoodie. Oscar raises an eyebrow at it, tries to remember if he missed some kind of memo about service pets or something.

He must make some kind of noise, because the cat-something suddenly cracks open an eye and lets out a panicked screech noise when he spots Oscar, jumping up and beelining for the door, knocking over three water bottles and an entire side table in the process before disappearing into Lando’s driver’s room across the hallway, leaving a bewidlred Oscar behind in his own upturned driver's room.

And that, more or less, is how Oscar finds out his new teammate can shapeshift into a fennec fox.

--

Kim’s eyeing Oscar warily when he makes his way into McLaren hospitality that morning. “Uhm,” he says, eyes flicking down to the obvious bulge in Oscar’s hoodie pocket.

“Don’t ask,” Oscar says. “He’s refusing to get out of there.”

Lando chooses that exact moment to poke his pointy little snout out of the pocket, and blearily glares at Kim before tucking himself back in. He’s had this strange obsession with Oscar’s hoodies that Oscar’s long since given up trying to figure out. Nowadays he just accepts all his clothes are perpetually covered in white hair and that he sometimes ends up playing Taxi Piastri all weekend, especially when Lando’s having a bit of a rough one.

Which he’s been having a lot of, with the whole championship thing.

“Do I, uh. Does he want breakfast too?” Kim asks, still eyeing Oscar’s hoodie as Oscar sits down on the chair across from him.

Oscar shrugs. “Lando? Breakfast?”

His hoodie lets out a pitiful squeak. “Just a chicken wrap, if they have it,” Oscar translates.

“Right,” Kim says, and with one last wary look, makes himself scarce. Inside Oscar’s hoodie pocket, Lando lets out a content little noise, and snuggles ever so closer to Oscar’s abdomen.

--

There’s two giant ears poking out of Oscar’s suitcase. He squints at them as he walks into his hotel room. “How did you even get in here?” He asks, as he shucks of his McLaren branded hoodie and throws it in the direction of the suitcase. A singular paw emerges from the mess and drags the hoodie closer, so the ears are now covered.

“Just because I can see you doesn’t mean you’re not there,” Oscar says, shaking his head fondly as he flops down on the bed. “Also don’t think being cute will get you out of explaining how on earth you got into my hotel room.”

His suitcase squeaks. Oscar rolls his eyes and turns on something on the TV, propping the pillows of his bed up and settling in against them.

When he startles awake, roughly two hours later, he has a bundle of happily purring fennec fox curled up in his arms.

--

Lando has the zoomies. Oscar can hear, through the thin wall of his driver’s room, the telltale patter patter patter of Lando’s paws, the occasional crashing sound when he knocks something off something. Oscar sighs, hoists himself off the couch, goes to see what’s going on.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks, leaning against the doorway as fennec fox Lando zooms over the couch and faults over the massage table. “Come on, bud. You can’t go into the car like this.”

That seems to do the trick. Unfortunately fox Lando decides to change back into human Lando halfway his jump towards the closet, and so he ends up flinging himself bodily into it. Oscar rushes forward and only just manages to catch him when he stumbles back. “Careful,” he says, softly, looking down into Lando’s greenbluegrey eyes as Lando smiles a little bashfully at him.

“My hero,” Lando says, bites at his lip.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Oscar asks.

Lando rights himself, steps away from Oscar’s arms. Oscar tries not to be too sad about that. “I, uh. It’s kind of. It’s stupid?”

“Okay?” Oscar asks, trying to sound as non-judging as possible. “You can still share.”

“Right. Uh. Hey, so. Remember how like. I love your hoodies?”

Oscar snorts. “Vaguely,” he says.

“Well, okay, turns out I uh. Also love. You.” Lando stares at him with those big eyes, hopping from foot to foot.

“Me,” Oscar parrots.

“You,” Lando says. “So, uh. That.”

“Ah,” Oscar says. “You know, that does like. Explain a lot.”

“Does it?” Lando asks, chewing on his hoodie string now. Actually, on further inspection, it’s totally Oscar’s hoodie.

“It really does,” Oscar says. And then, because it’s rude to keep someone waiting, kisses Lando square on the mouth.

Lando, clearly surprised by the move, squeaks, and promptly turns back into his fox form.

Right. Okay. That’s going to need some work, probably. But that’s fine. Oscar’s got time. Their whole lives, if Lando lets him. For now, he’s content with kissing the little fox between his giant ears, and trying not to laugh too hard when it turns back into a very disgruntled yet slightly embarrassed looking Lando.

[norristri]

Oscar, talking to himself when he can't find Lando: Most people might lose a pen or a mug. Not me. I manage to lose and entire human being

[norristri]

17,22 🥰

-> ask me about my 2024!

17. what were your go-to writing snacks?

i really go in snack phases.... like rn it's the bucket of halloween candy i inherited from my home-owner friends who had trick-or-treaters. at earlier points in the year it was ritz crackers, various potato chips... i'm also a big bevvy gal, so it was a lot of gatorade and energy drinks (red bull, celsius, etc) in addition to coffee, hot chocolate, and tea lattes. whatever was handy!

22. share an excerpt from your favorite scene.

uhhhh. are we going dad lando? because i have kind of a lot of favorite scenes from that. but i do generally like a lot of the scenes IN that better than scenes i've written. anybody, nowhere is rlly solid imo, but less bc of its scenes and more bc of the product as a whole. i'll give you dad lando, why not:

They watch the end of free practice on his television that way, her little snuffling breaths puffing against his collarbone as she tracks the cars lazily around track and he traces his knuckles up and down her spine, over and over. It’s just past ten when Oscar calls. Emma still hasn’t nodded off at all, but she’s worn-out enough that she doesn’t react other than an extra-deep inhale when Lando’s phone vibrates against the quilt. “Hey,” Lando answers the video with his free hand, the other still on Emma’s back, “I’ve got this koala here, heads up.” He tilts the screen down enough for Oscar to see. Emma sighs into his chest and her fingers twitch where they’re curled against his bare side. “Aw,” Oscar’s voice is soft, “what’s up?” “Don’t feel good,” Emma repeats like she had an hour back, only this time it’s muffled enough that Lando’s not sure Oscar’s caught any of it. “Stuffed-up nose,” Lando clarifies, lifting his hand from her back to tuck her hair back away from her face, “she’s just having a bit of a hard time sleeping, yeah?”

this might be recency bias bc i just wrote that scene last week and looooove its sappy soft vibes but uh. the other option was just MORE nortrell and it feels like that's all i've shared from dad lando so :,)

[norristri]

This is probably the silliest piece of landoscar lore that seems pulled out of a social media au but it's actually real

[norristri]

Oscar, talking to himself when he can't find Lando: Most people might lose a pen or a mug. Not me. I manage to lose and entire human being

[norristri]

Lando: Hey, you dropped something

Oscar: Oh thanks! What-

Lando: Your standards *Winks*

Lando: Hi, I'm Lando

Oscar, blushing: H-hey