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chandelier-s-notebook · 2 days ago

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Hey, so I started writing a Landoscar 5+1 which...didn't even spiral outwardly that badly, but I hate it. I hate it enough that I never want to look at it again, and I think that if I put it down, I will never pick it back up. And both desperately want to put it down, and don't believe in continually ramming your head into the wall if something isn't working. So, into the fic graveyard it goes.

But! Instead of tossing it in the trash, never to be seen again, I am posting it here to Tumblr. Maybe someone can enjoy it.

It's supposed to be Landoscar, but it takes Lando 1800 of those prose words to show up. What's happening in that first 1.8k? Charles adopting Oscar. Alex and George are also here. Max exists, and Lando is a biter.

The whole 5+1 part is outlined, it's five different things Lando calls Oscar in a College!AU and one time Oscar gives him a nickname back. The bones are all there, but...

*ahem*

I present to you: 2.3k of pose and 1.1k of outline.

Have an experience.

[INSERT TITLE HERE]

Oscar Piastri is a regular engineering major university shut in by the time Winter semester rolls around in his first year of university.

He has one friend—Logan, his roommate, who he’d met all the way back in middle school—two different incompetent lab groups, a class with four midterms and a final, 18 hours of lecture a week, a never ending stream of assignments, a healthy addition to Monster Energy™, and three humanities he has to take if he wants to graduate at all.

Oscar is taking a 300-level Principles of Marketing—he figures it will be useful enough—when he meets Charles Leclerc.

And that's when his life starts to change.

— — —

Charles is a business major, and Charles happens to be sitting next to Oscar when Professor Vettel—”But please call me Sebastain, or even Seb,”—asks them to introduce themselves to the person sitting next to them.

“Oscar Piastri. I’m in engineering, mechanical, first year.”

“Ah. So you are here for the credit, then? I am Charles Leclerc, second year.”

The name pings some level of familiarity deep in the back of his brain, but it’s not enough of a connection for him to follow it down any sort of rabbit hole. “Pretty much, but I have to keep my GPA up to keep my scholarship, so I’m not planning on being completely useless.”

“Good,” Charles smiles. “Because this introduction thing is how Seb likes to assign groups of the term.”

Oscar feels like a bucket of water has been dumped on his head. “What?”

“I know. It is weird, but all of the professors here are. I hope we work well together. When I was in Intro to Marketing, I was stuck with George. George is nice, but he is very intense about the wrong things sometimes. We did not work well together.”

“This class is going to be, like, last on my list of priorities,” Oscar feels the need to tell him.

But Charles just smiles again. “I figured, since you said you are an engineer. That is okay. At least I know what I am in for from the start. We will meet once a week, yes? So we have a dedicated time to work on this class, and you can ignore it the rest of the time?”

Oscar starts to protest, but a clap sounds from the front of the room. “Well. I hope you like the person sitting next to you,” Professor Vettel, Sebastian, Seb says. “Because this is who you will be working with for the rest of the semester! I’ll give you five minutes to exchange contact information, and then we’ll get started!”

Charles winks at him; he’s bad at it. “See?”

Oscar forks over his number, and pencils in a weekly Wednesday evening library session with Charles Leclerc.

— — —

Wednesday evening quickly becomes Oscar’s favourite time of the week.

For two hours he can shut off his brain, ignore all of his coursework, and just hangout with Charles Leclerc. At least it feels like they’re just hanging out, because what’s actually happening is Charles is explaining to Oscar what the fuck he’s doing for their joint assignments that Oscar feels a little bit bad about putting his name on.

“It’s okay,” Charles assures him. “Seb’s husband is one of the engineering profs. He knows which people in his class are eng students, and how much they’ve got on their plates.”

“Which one?”

“Not telling.”

“Rude!”

“Besides, you’re doing quality control.”

“I don’t know what quality I am controlling, is the issue.”

“That is okay.”

“Is it? I’m going to fail the final at this rate.”

“No you aren’t.”

Oscar flops down onto the table. “Yes I am.”

“Because it is a term project.”

He looks up. “I’m not letting you do an entire term project on your own.”

“Of course you are not. We need to build a product website. I cannot code, and I know that coding is a requirement to graduate, so I will make the design document, and you will code.”

“Okay,” he says, small. “I don’t want to drag your grade down because I don’t know what’s going on in this course.”

“You won’t. I won’t let you,” Charles tells him. “You understand the lectures, non?”

“Yeah. And I’m acing the theory quizzes.”

Charles grins. “See? You are doing very well.”

Oscar smiles. “Okay, but what goes in a design document?”

— — —

“Charles, I know I have to be the one to do the presentation, but I can’t. I’m going to sound so stupid standing up there reading off these cards.”

“You are not going to sound stupid. That is why we are practicing.”

“You’re biased. You need to tell me I’m going well so I stay calm.”

“Are you not calm?” Charles asks, tilting his head.

“I am not calm.”

“This is you not calm?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. I cannot tell. Which is good, because then no one will be able to see if you start to panic. The audience is like a snark.”

“Not helpful!”

“Right.” Charles taps his chin with this index finger. “I know! I will get George.”

“George?”

“Yes!” The upperclassman pulls out his phone. “If you can present to George, you can present to anybody.”

“I thought you didn’t like George?”

“I don’t like working with George. He is judgy.”

“And you want me to present in front of him?”

“Oui. He will stay quiet until you are done.”

“I hate this.”

“You told me you would.”

George is apparently George Russell, the man Oscar’s Solid Mechanics TA, Max Verstappen, loves to draw into pointless arguments. He brings his friend Alexander “Alex” Albon—wildlife biology major. They are both very good at quietly listening to him fumble, while keeping their expressions carefully blank.

At least George is. Alex is smiling at him in a way he knows is supposed to be comforting, but all it’s doing is making him more aware of tightness in his chest.

“And that’s that.” Oscar claps his hands together, and immediately regrets it.

Charles applauds and cheers like he’s just won a race or something.

Alex claps as well.

George turns to Charles. “You’ve adopted an engineer.”

“Maybe,” Charles grins. “You can barely tell.”

“It’s obvious.”

“No it’s not,” Charles turns to assure Oscar. “Barely. If you weren’t you, you couldn’t tell.”

“I mean it’s not really far, because I’ve seen him in Max’s office.”

Charles looks absolutely betrayed when his gaze whips towards him. “Why are you in Max’s office?”

“For help?”

Charles narrows his eyes.

“He’s my TA; solid mech.”

“Who do you like more?”

“Huh?”

“Me and Max. Who do you like more?”

Oscar’s eyes dart to Alex’s for a little help. There’s not much he can do, but he does manage to convey that this answer is apparently very important.

Oscar has never considered Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen against each other. They aren’t exactly in the same category of people in his mind.

“You?”

“More confidence.”

“You.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” Charles sits back in his seat. “Do it again. Do you have a suit? You will wear a suit to this presentation.”

Oscar is only a little scared.

“Does Max like Oscar?” Charles asks George while they all go about packing their bags at the end of the session.

“I’d say so. You know how he pretends to be professional with the underclassmen, but when it’s just Oscar in the room he’s right back to his usual state of no decorum.”

Charles hums. “Do you do anything on Fridays, Oscar? Friday evenings?”

“Cry? All of my assignments are due Friday.”

“So you stay up all night doing them?”

“No, that's Thursday. I fix everything Friday morning, so that I’ve got time to cry in the evening before I start next week’s assignments on Saturday.”

Alex snorts. “Nice.”

“You are coming for drinks,” Charlest tells him. “Crying with friends is better than crying alone. I will come pick you up. Give me your address.” He holds out his phone in front of Oscar’s nose.

Oscar’s eyes dart back to Alex’s. The man looks just as befuddled as he feels, but honestly: Oscar would like more than one friend.

“Will I have to pay?” he asks.

“Non. If I tell you you have to pay you will come up with excuses to not come. I will pay. You have a class that ends at five thirty, non?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Then I will be there at six thirty. That will give you an hour to get home, and do whatever introvert things you need to do before we go out.”

At Oscar’s expression Alex tells him, “We also always meet up at seven.”

Which is good, because Oscar was about to tell Charles that they shouldn’t change their whole schedule for him.

— — —

Oscar’s shirt is only halfway on when there’s a knock at his door.

“In a minute!”

“I’ve got it!” Logan calls.

The door opens.

“Who are you?” he demands.

“You are not Oscar.”

“No. I’m not. Who are you?”

“Charles!” Oscar gasps, running out of his room. “Logan, this is Charles. He’s my Marketing partner. Charles, this is Logan, he’s my roommate.”

“You never mentioned a roommate.”

“Never came up,” he says, bending down to tie his shoelaces.

“I told you about my roommates!” Charles cries.

“You complained about your roommate to me,” he corrects.

Logan laughs. “Dude, you’re supposed to share horror stories when that happens.”

Oscar furrows his brows. “But I don’t have horror stories.”

“Oscar.”

“Yes?”

“Your roommate answered the door eating cereal out of a frying pan.”

Oscar turns to look.

Logan shrugs.

“Have you heard of bowls?” Charles shrieks.

“American,” he grins.

Oscar huffs. “He’s joking,” he assures Charles while grabbing his coat. “We’ve run out of bowls. Logan was supposed to do the dishes tonight.”

The man in question clicks his tongue, and shoots Charles with a finger gun. “Are you going out?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back…when will I be back?”

“Two?”

“I’m not making it to two. I’ll be back at ten.”

“Text me. I’m staying in.”

“Cool.” Oscar throws him a thumbs up. “Shall we? Who’s going to be there, by the way?”

“George, Alex, Pierre, Esteban, Yuki, Liam, Lando, and Max is not coming.”

“Pierre is your roommate?”

“Oui.”

When Oscar gets to the pub, he is immediately reminded why he’s bad at making friends.

While everybody else introduced themselves with their first names only, Oscar had said: “Oscar Piastri.”

Full name, full confidence.

Which was his only saving grace: the confidence. His face didn’t even scrunch up in displeasure.

“Nice to meet you Oscar Piastri!” Lando says.

“Just Oscar is fine.”

“But your name is Oscar Piastri.”

“Oh my god Lando,” Alex laughs. “Ignore him. He bites, but he’s harmless.”

“I thought the saying goes ‘he doesn’t bite,’ right?”

“Yeah,” George shrugs. “But Lando does bite. Literally. He’s a bit feral, but he’s good the first hour.”

Charles pats Oscar’s shoulder. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“You’re all making me sound like a dog. I’m not a pet!”

“I think it’d be nice to be a pet dog. No solid mech homework.”

“Is that what we’re crying about tonight?” Alex asks.

“Yep.”

Lando’s eyes light up. “You schedule your crying?”

“I’m in mech eng.”

“Oh Oscar Piastri, I’m so sorry.”

George groans. “Just call him Oscar.”

“No.”

Oscar laughs. He doesn’t really mind. It’s very clear that he’s just teasing. Besides, Oscar likes the way Lando says his full name: Oscar Piastri. It rolls off his tongue like it’s a single entity.

— — —

The presentation goes well, all things considered, and Oscar even manages to actually answer some of the audience questions without looking at Charles in panic first.

It’s a miracle.

“Good job!” Charles says, clapping his shoulder as they go back to their seats. “That was great. I’m so proud of you.”

Oscar blushes. “Stop. I feel like you’re about to give me a gold star or something.”

“I could. Do you want one?” Charles asks, way too earnestly for Oscar’s taste. “I carry some around with me. We give them to Lando when he does a good job.”

“First you tell me he bites, then you tell me you give him treats, are you sure he’s not the friend group’s dog or something.”

Charles grins. “Don’t let his whining confuse you, he likes it. He has a little sticker booklet, so if you are going to give him one you have to give it to him, because you put it on him it won’t be sticky anymore and it will be difficult to keep in the booklet.”

“Oh my god.”

“Would you like one?”

“I don’t have a booklet.”

“That is okay. You can put it on your laptop. They are die cut vinyl; very good quality.”

“Wow. Yeah I’ll have one.”

Oscar’s laptop is now the proud wearer of a smiling cartoon golden star sticker.

It’s silly, but he loves it.

— — —

At six thirty sharp every Friday, Charles Leclerc is at his door ready to drag him off to the pub with his friends who are all slowly, but surely, also being Oscar’s friends.

He jumps when all he gets is a loud “OSCAR!” before Lando is barrelling into his side, almost sending him sprawling just outside of the peb entrance.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Oscar is not not bracing for a bite.

Not because he wants Lando to bite him, but because he likes to think they’re friends, and apparently Lando bites his friends.

Or maybe they just told that to Oscar to scare him, and take the mick out of Lando in a single blow.

“Ah! Lando!” Alex cries. “You pest. Give me warning! You can’t just bite people.”

“I gave you a whole four seconds after arriving,” Lando pouts. “That’s plenty of warning. Not my fault you ignored it.”

“Say something,” Alex pleads, rubbing his shoulder. “You’ve gotten better at biting lightly, thank you.”

Lando brightens. “You’re welcome!” He turns to George. “George, I’m going to bite you.”

“Oh I don’t like that,” Alex says. “That’s so ominous. Nevermind. Don’t say anything. But like, tap me or something.”

Lando whacks George’s shoulder, and then with a “hwam” he clamps his teeth around the other man’s shoulder.

Oscar isn’t sure if he should be watching with horror or fascination.

Oscar jumps about twelve feet in the air when he hears a loud “OSCAR” shouted across the quad

Lando.

The biter.

Who didn’t bite anybody last time they were out

But they’ve known each other for longer than an hour, so he’s a little bit worried

Because Charles doesn’t tend to lie to him.

Lando throws himself into Oscar’s side

“Where are you going?”

“Physics Building.”

“Ugh. Why?”

“Solid Mech. Need to talk to my TA.”

“Terrible. I think. Max likes Solid Mech, but Max is a freak.”

“Verstappen?”

“Yep! Do you know him?”

“He’s my TA.”

“For Solid Mech?”

“Yup.”

“Of course he is. He was probably grading your assignments, that’s why he didn’t come out last night.”

Oscar pales. “You’re friends with my TA?”

“Yup! He’s a freak, but he’s cool.”

“If he’s a freak, what are you? I’m waiting for you to bite me.”

Lando pauses. “Do you want me to bite you, Oscar?”

“I was told you bite your friends.”

“Are we friends?”

“I dunno. Don’t have many of those.”

“Well we’ve got to fix that.”

Suddenly Lando is being scruffed.

“Lando. Why are you about to bite my favourite student?”

“We’re friends now. Charles brought him to the pub.”

“Ah.”

“Stop giving Oscar so many assignments. Cause then he’ll be less stressed, and you’ll be able to hangout more!”

“Not how that works. If I let you go, are you going to bite him?”

“He literally asked for it.”

“I did.”

Max sighs. “I see why Charles took you in. Were you having trouble with the assignment?”

“The indeterminate structures are doing my head in again.”

“The what?”

Max hauls Lando into his office. “Come in, you. You’re going to be Oscar’s rubber duck.”

“What?” he squawks. “Oscar! Max just called me dumb!”

Oscar feels warm.

He has a friend.

— — —

Lando loosens up a bit more and stops pronouncing the r in his name. It shouldn’t affect him as much as it does, but it practically kills Oscar.

Lando is an arts major, graphic design and photography

He sits with Oscar while he works on his assignments

Well, Lando is usually drawing or editing pictures

To Oscar it feels like not working, but Lando assures him that he is actually working

“Oscah. I’m bored.”

“I’m busy.”

“I knoooooooow. Can I take pictures of you?”

“What?”

“Pictures? With my camera? I need to practice my human portraits stuff. Framing and shit. And how to deal with natural lighting. The lighting in here is shit, mate.”

Oscar glances at him.

“I’ll be taking candid shots. Like you in your natural habitat. So I won’t even be talking. I’ll shut up!”

“Why is that a selling point?”

“Because you’re trying to work? I can be considerate.”

Oscar smiles. “Go for it. Might be a bit awkward though.”

“I’ve got you Oscah. I’ll make you look cool even without dynamic lighting.”

“I hate dynamics.”

— — —

Osc is not made for the pub despite being an engineer

“We are we are we are we are We are the engineers We can we can we can we can We can demolish forty beers So come so come so come so come So come along with us For we don't give a damn for any damn man who don't give a damn for us”

Oscar has been drinking water for the past three pubs on this crawl

He runs into Max at some point

Max, who decides that it’s time to save him, and Oscar is being dragged into a booth with Charles and his friends.

“Do you think those guys are going to notice you are gone?”

“Maybe? Probably. I’ve been Logan’s introvert all night. He’ll go looking for me before everybody leaves.”

Charles gets him another water.

Oscar starts asking questions about the torsion unit.

Max laughs, and they are doing office hours again.

“There you are! Man, I thought I’d lost you for good. You good, man?”

“Yeah! There is Charles.” He points.

Logan grins and shakes his hand. “Hey. Oscar’s roommate.”

“The messy one who eats cereal out of the frying pan?”

Logan laughs, everybody laughs. “Yeah. That’s me. We’re headed off to the next pub…”

Lando wraps his arms around Oscar’s torso and clings. “Nope. Osc is ours now. We’re keeping him. You have fun on your crawl.”

“Osc?” Lando jolts back. His face is suddenly stricken with a worried expression. “Is that okay? Can I call you that?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Logan tells him when Oscar starts floundering. “Use protection!” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m staying at Liam’s!”

— — —

Lando comes over and finds out that Logan calls Oscar Osc and has for years.

He gets very pouty

“Just give him your own nickname,” Logan says in between bites of cereal.

“Do you not own bowls?”

“There are two left. Figured you would want one? And Oscar has some dignity left, so frying pan for me.”

“Osco, your roommate hurts me.”

“Osco?”

“I’ve decided on it.”

“Okay.”

“But seriously, what is wrong with your roommate?”

“American.”

“Bro.”

“He just called you bro.” Lando claps. “I’ve never heard someone do that in real life.”

Oscar sighs.

— — —

Charles: Who is your favourite?

Oscar *panicking*: Lando

Charles *waves him away*: Obviously. Between me and Max. Who is your favourite?

Oscar *deer in headlines*: Lando

Lando: *cackles*

Max: Remember, I grade your assignments. Actually, I am grading your midterm right now.

Oscar: How am I doing?

Max: Who is your favourite?

Oscar: *pales*

Charles: I do your assignments. I will not put your name on it.

George: That’s not going to work. Seb knows you well enough to know that Oscar hasn’t done any work all semester, and that you’re being petty.

Charles: And when Seb calls me for a meeting I will tell him how Oscar has been terrible to me, and does not deserve to coast off my work.

Oscar *panicking*: I need this class.

Charles *mouthing*: I’m joking.

Max: I’ll tell Mark that Oscar chose me over you, and he’ll tell Seb. Who’s Seb going to believe? You? Or a story that sounds exactly like something you would do?”

Charles: *pouts*

Oscar: Lando.

Lando: Say George. It’ll piss them both off.

Oscar: Alex.

George: Oi!

Alex: Don’t bring me into this!

Charles: It’s me, right?

Oscar: Yes?

Charles: With confidence.

Oscar: Yes.

Oscar is not a nickname guy.

But Lando clearly is