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auroraharper · 1 month ago

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Romancing Mister Piastri - Landoscar Bridgerton AU

Summary:

Oscar Piastri, beloved heir to the House of Piastri, is known for his impeccable manners, graceful smiles, and… his miserable engagement to the emotionally glacial Duke Max Verstappen. What no one knows is that Oscar is secretly in love—with his best friend’s younger brother, the whirlwind that is Lord Lando Bridgerton. Too bad Lando thinks Oscar is just his brother’s unfortunate betrothed and is currently plotting something truly deranged such as Kidnapping to reunite Duke Max and Daniel…

Night before the wedidng

Oscar sits at his window, quill trembling, trying to pen a letter to his mother explaining why he cannot marry Max. Meanwhile, Lando is outside, dressed in all black, preparing for what he calls “a gentleman’s heist.”

Oscar (muttering): "Dear Mother, I cannot possibly wed the Duke. He speaks to me less than he does to his horse, and I fear the horse finds him warmer."

Lando (whispering to himself as he climbs up a rose trellis): "Alright, Lando, you’re doing this for Daniel. Just borrow the groom. Temporarily. Easy. In. Out. Kidnap. Hug later."

He slips through the balcony and lands—loudly—inside Oscar’s chamber.

Oscar (startled): "L-Lord Bridgerton?!"

Lando (straightening like this was normal): "I’m here to rescue you."

Oscar: "...From what?"

Lando: "A loveless marriage, obviously. You don’t want to marry Max. He doesn’t want to marry you. Daniel loves Max. You’re friends with Daniel. I love Daniel. Ergo—" (squints, trying to math) "—You and I are allies. So. Let’s go."

Oscar (trying to hide the smile): "You’re kidnapping me… for Daniel’s happiness?"

Lando: "Exactly. Also Max is insufferable. You deserve better. Like—uh—someone who notices you."

Oscar (softly): "Do you?"

Lando (oblivious): "Do I what?"

Oscar (covering quickly): "Nothing. Let’s go."

………….

Oscar and Lando speed through the countryside. Oscar is quietly glowing. Lando is busy congratulating himself.

Lando: "That was a flawless heist. Well, except for the part where you tripped over your own feet and we almost got caught by the cook."

Oscar (blushing): "Apologies. I was... distracted."

Lando: "By what?"

Oscar (staring at him with stars in his eyes): "You."

Lando (still oblivious): "...Because I’m brilliant, I know."

…………

The scandal was the talk of every drawing room from Grosvenor Square to the dungeons of Whistledown’s office.

Meanwhile…

SCENE: A Remote Country Inn — Two Rooms? Not Today.

Innkeeper (cheerfully): “Oh, terribly sorry, milords. Only one room left. But it does have a very large bed.”

Lando (without missing a beat): “We’ll take it. We’re lovers. Either works. Whichever keeps questions away. Thank you!”

Oscar (internally): Lovers? Lovers? Is this a dream?

Oscar (out loud, trying not to pass out): “Y-Yes. Thank you.”

………..

Later that Night – Their Room

The countryside is quiet. Firelight flickers. Oscar is brushing his hair by the window, lit softly like the subject of a romantic poem. Lando is… snoring on the bed, spread diagonally across it, somehow already taking up all the space.

Oscar turns, watches him with a fondness that would’ve made Jane Austen weep.

Oscar (to himself): “How can he be so smart and yet so stupid?”

Lando (murmuring in sleep): “Mmm ….. pancakes…”

Oscar (smiling): “I’m in love with an idiot.”

…………

The Next Morning – Shared Breakfast

They sit close at the little inn table, heads nearly touching over tea and jam.

Innkeeper (smiling as she serves): “You two make a lovely pair.”

Oscar (blushing violently): “Th-thank you—”

Lando (grinning): “Right? We do make a good team. I kidnapped him and everything.”

Innkeeper: “…Pardon?”

Oscar (quickly): “He means from social obligations. You know, the usual...ton drama. We are in our honeymoon just away from the ton”

Innkeeper (fondly):

Oh ,newly married couple. Young love..wow

…………..

Oscar: “Thank you, by the way. For helping me escape.”

Lando: “Of course. You deserve someone who’s mad about you, not… Duke Doomface.”

Oscar (quietly): “And if I said there was someone I might be mad about too?”

Lando (obliviously): “I’d say lucky them!”

Oscar (screaming inside): You are them, you beautiful idiot.

……….

Evening – Back in Bed

Lando flops onto the bed again, arms stretched, shirt half untucked. Oscar climbs in beside him carefully, trying to pretend it’s normal to sleep two inches away from the man he loves.

Lando (mumbling, half-asleep): “You smell nice. Like books. And sugar.”

Oscar (whispering): “I love you.”

Lando (snoring): “Mmhm… you too…”

Oscar (staring at the ceiling, heart racing): “Did… did he just…?”

……………

Though the countryside had long been praised for its tranquil charm, with its soft hills and gentle brooks and trees that danced lightly in the spring breeze, for Lando Bridgerton it now held a far more curious enchantment — one that wore a fond, bashful smile and had eyes like dusky starlight.

It had not been his intention to fall in love.

Indeed, he had always regarded matters of the heart with a certain blithe detachment, as though such affairs were meant only for poets, dramatists, or Daniel on an especially emotional Tuesday.

But as the days passed in their little rural hideaway — under the guise of a scandalously eloped couple, no less — he found himself watching Oscar Piastri not out of obligation or friendship, but from a deeper instinct that unsettled him greatly.

For Oscar, it seemed, was not merely his brother’s quiet, polite friend from the city.

He was someone altogether other. He laughed with a warmth that echoed in Lando’s chest.

He listened, truly listened, with a serenity that made Lando forget the need to perform.

And when he spoke — whether of books or birdsong or the merits of apricot jam over marmalade — it was with such unexpected wit and quiet conviction that Lando often found himself caught between awe and annoyance at how utterly charming he was.

He began to notice things he shouldn’t — the way Oscar bit the inside of his cheek when hiding a smile, how his fingers lingered a moment too long when brushing Lando’s sleeve, how his voice softened when speaking his name. It was maddening. It was enchanting.

And worse — it was mutual, and yet wholly unspoken.

Each day they played the part of a devoted couple for the sake of innkeepers and curious villagers.

Lando, with a dramatic flourish, would carry their single suitcase; Oscar would link their arms with a sigh that was far too real.

They walked together, talked together, dined by candlelight with no one but each other — and every moment became a stitch in the quiet tapestry of something unspoken but steadily growing.

But it was in the evenings, as the world hushed to stillness and firelight painted gold into Oscar’s hair, that Lando felt most helpless. For Oscar would smile at him across their shared bed — soft, tired, fond — and Lando would feel something sharp twist in his chest.

It was not guilt.

Not fear.

But rather the dreadful realization that, somewhere between their preposterous beginning and this gentle pretending, he had grown to need Oscar’s presence.

Not as a co-conspirator.

Not as his brother’s friend.

But simply as his.

And what, pray, was he to do with that?

For Lando Bridgerton had kidnapped a groom. And may very well have lost his own heart in the process.

…………

The rain began as a whisper — a hesitant tapping upon the inn’s old windowpanes — but soon swelled into a tempest, loud and unruly, as if the heavens themselves sought to echo the unrest stirring within Lando Bridgerton’s chest.

Thunder cracked across the sky, rattling the shutters, and a sudden gust of wind extinguished the lone candle on their bedside table. In the darkness, only the distant lightning illuminated Oscar's face in pale, intermittent flashes, casting him as some tragic, romantic figure out of a novel — too beautiful to be real, too close to be safe.

They had been sharing a room for a week now, yet never had silence settled this heavily between them.

Oscar stood by the window, arms folded, his expression unreadable as he watched the downpour. “Looks like we’ll be stuck here another day,” he murmured, not turning around.

Lando, perched at the edge of the bed, could only nod. Words felt traitorous on his tongue.

“I never thought I’d actually do it,” Oscar continued, his voice low and steady. “Run. Flee. Cause a scandal. Disgrace the family name.”

“You make it sound like I forced you,” Lando said with a hollow laugh. “You seemed quite enthusiastic about your own kidnapping.”

At that, Oscar turned. And even in the flickering blue light of the storm, Lando saw the smile — small, knowing, terribly tender.

“I was,” Oscar said softly. “Because it was you I was running with.”

Lightning flashed again. The silence that followed was not empty, but brimming — with words unsaid, emotions barely restrained.

“You could have told me,” Lando said, standing now. “If you… if you felt something for me.”

Oscar tilted his head. “You never asked.”

A bitter laugh escaped Lando, more wounded than amused. “You think I’d dare ask? You think I’d risk ruining everything — our plan, my brother’s trust, this entire absurd charade — for a feeling I wasn’t even sure you shared?”

Oscar stepped closer then, slow but unyielding, until the space between them vanished like mist in the rain. His hand, cool from the windowpane, reached up to rest lightly on Lando’s cheek. “I would have said yes.”

Thunder rolled once more, loud and furious, but neither man flinched.

Lando looked at him — truly looked — and all his carefully constructed jokes, his charming smiles, his masks and metaphors crumbled.

“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “And it terrifies me.”

Oscar smiled, a soft tremble in his lips, and leaned forward so their foreheads touched.

“Then let’s be terrified together.”

And there, in a storm-lashed room in the middle of nowhere, the false lovers became real — not with passion, but with something gentler, something achingly sacred: a confession spoken in silence, sealed by a breathless, trembling kiss.

…………..

The next morning, the storm was gone — both from the sky and from their hearts. Sunlight spilled across the countryside like nothing had happened, as if it hadn’t witnessed confessions and kisses and long, sleepless hours tangled in silence and laughter. But something had changed. Oscar and Lando were no longer pretending.

Their carriage ride back to town was the picture of scandal waiting to happen.

Oscar sat curled against Lando’s side, their hands loosely entwined, completely unbothered by the wide-eyed gasps they received at every post stop. The moment they rolled into the outskirts of the ton, society’s whispers turned into open-mouthed stares. No one could understand why the Duke's missing betrothed was currently lounging like a pampered cat beside a Bridgerton brother — worse, Lando Bridgerton.

One older lady nearly fainted on the steps of a tea house as she caught sight of Oscar playfully feeding Lando a sugared bun through the carriage window.

Lando looked relaxed for the first time in forever, stretched out with a smug grin on his face as if he lived for scandal. “Should we tell them now?” he asked, mouth full, bumping his shoulder into Oscar’s.

Oscar just chuckled, brushing crumbs from Lando’s lap. “Let them guess. It’s more fun that way.”

Inside the carriage, they didn’t care about the consequences.

Outside, the ton was practically combusting. Gossip flew faster than their wheels. Whispers said Lando had stolen the groom. Others said Oscar had bewitched the notorious rake. Someone even claimed they’d run away to a seaside chapel and married in secret.

But Lando leaned his cheek against Oscar’s temple and sighed, eyes half-closed. “Remind me to thank Daniel later. If it weren’t for him being so obsessed with the Duke, I’d never have noticed you looking at me like that.”

Oscar snorted. “I was very subtle.”

“You smiled at me while I was helping you escape your own wedding.”

“That was me being civil.”

Lando laughed. “Right. Civil. So civil you confessed your love during a lightning storm.”

Oscar tilted his head, eyes glinting. “And you kissed me like we were in a romance.”

They both burst into laughter, scandal be damned.

…………………

When the carriage rolled into the Piastri estate, Lando adjusted his cravat like a man about to be executed. He’d faced angry dukes, judgmental ton ladies, and the piercing glares of his brother Daniel countless times — but nothing prepared him for facing Lady Piastri after eloping with her son.

He stepped out first, hand automatically reaching back to help Oscar down, and immediately scanned the steps for the wrath of a disappointed mother. But instead, Lady Piastri was waiting at the door with... sparkling eyes?

“Oh, thank heavens,” she exclaimed the moment she saw Oscar, sweeping forward and embracing him in a flurry of relieved sighs and silk sleeves. “My beautiful boy. Finally.”

Lando blinked. “Wait—what?”

Lady Piastri turned to him and, to his increasing confusion, pulled him into a warm hug next. “You have no idea how glad I am it was you, Lando Bridgerton.”

He stiffened in her arms. “I… uh… aren’t you angry that I—” he gestured vaguely between himself and Oscar, “—you know. Eloped with your son? Stole him from a Duke?”

Lady Piastri pulled back, hands on her hips, expression entirely too gleeful. “Eloped? Stole him? My dear boy, I told him to run away.”

Lando blinked. Oscar looked suspiciously like someone trying not to whistle innocently.

“What?” Lando asked flatly. “You what?”

“I said,” she repeated, voice prim and full of pride, “I was the one who told him to run away. The match with Duke Verstappen was a strategic one — for my uncle’s benefit. Not Oscar’s. I always knew his heart belonged to someone else. I thought it was Daniel, honestly, but clearly the heart has its own plans.”

Oscar coughed into his hand, suddenly red-cheeked. “I… may not have realized until the storm. And the sharing of buns. And the accidental hand-holding.”

“And the snuggling in the inn,” Lando added under his breath.

Lady Piastri continued, unbothered. “I just wanted my son happy. The only issue was convincing my stubborn uncle to call off the wedding, which he would never do. So when you whisked him away like some daring rogue, I thought — perfect. Let the scandal do the work for us.”

Lando stared at her, utterly speechless.

“You’re telling me,” he said slowly, “I didn’t cause a scandal. I fulfilled a plan.”

“Exactly!” she beamed. “You’re quite useful when you’re not being an absolute menace.”

Oscar looked delighted. Lando looked betrayed by reality.

“And you didn’t stop me because—?”

“I didn’t think you’d do it,” she said with a shrug. “I underestimated your dramatic flair.”

Lando exhaled loudly. “I need tea. And possibly therapy.”

Oscar slipped his hand into Lando’s, grinning like sunshine. “You already have me. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

Lando tried to stay annoyed. He really did. But then Oscar kissed his cheek, and well — maybe being played like a fiddle by Lady Piastri wasn’t so terrible.

Especially if he got to keep the fiddle.

………..

As Lando stepped through the polished marble foyer of Bridgerton Manor, still tan from his actual, legal honeymoon with Oscar (no kidnapping involved this time), he expected at least a dramatic welcome—confetti, a sarcastic banner, maybe Alex crying fake tears.

What he did not expect was the entire Bridgerton household turned into a full-blown nursery.

The drawing room, once a place of refined tea and scandalous gossip, now echoed with soft baby gurgles and... Charles Leclerc cooing. Cooing. The ever-so-stoic, emotionally constipated Charles was currently holding baby Ben—Carlos’s adorable bundle of chaos—and whispering sweet nothings in Monegasque.

Carlos, radiant with parental glow, looked up and beamed at Lando. “You’re back! Ben, look! It’s Uncle Lando!”

Lando blinked. “I’m... I’m an uncle?”

“No,” Alex said flatly from the chaise, “You’re the uncle. The last uncle. The only one who hasn’t babysat yet. And now that you’re back—”

“—Your shift starts tonight,” Lewis added dryly, sipping wine with a baby rattle inexplicably in his other hand. “Good luck. He cries in four languages.”

Dada (Lord VETTEL) was bouncing Ben with seasoned expertise while Papa (Lord BRIDGERTON) waved a tiny handmade rattle painted in Bridgerton blue and gold. “Say ‘Uncle Lando,’ darling! He’ll be your favorite when he gives you cake before dinner.”

Max, who now regularly smiled (only around Daniel, of course), peered over Ben’s head. “He looks like Carlos. But I think he might have Charles’s ability to glare judgmentally.”

Daniel grinned. “So... Max.”

Charles rolled his eyes but leaned in and whispered, “He does have excellent taste. He peed on Alex.”

Alex sniffed. “We don’t talk about that.”

Kimi, standing in the corner singing(he claimed Ben demanded it), said in his usual deadpan: “At least baby doesn’t kidnap people.”

Lando, still standing in the doorway, hands on hips, shook his head in disbelief. “I leave for four weeks, and suddenly everyone’s been bewitched by an eight-pound baby duke.”

Carlos smirked. “Jealous?”

“Jealous?” Lando scoffed. “Please. I was the scandal of the season. I eloped with a Piastri. Twice.”

Ben burbled and threw up a little on Charles.

Everyone turned to Lando.

Lewis: “Still jealous?”

Lando sighed, already rolling up his sleeves. “Fine. Uncle Lando reporting for duty. Where’s the emergency chocolate stash?”

Carlos passed him a burp cloth with the Bridgerton crest embroidered in gold.

“Welcome to fatherhood,” he said sweetly.

“I’m not the father,” Lando protested.

Charles looked up. “Yet.”

Oscar choked and blushed behind him.

Daniel cackled.