#car shipping miami

[nationwideautocarriers12]

Reliable Auto Transport Services in Miami

Experience hassle-free auto transport in Miami with our trusted services. Whether you're relocating, buying a car, or need seasonal transport, we specialize in safe and efficient vehicle shipping. Our team offers door-to-door service, real-time tracking, and competitive pricing to ensure your car arrives in perfect condition. With years of experience and a commitment to customer satisfaction, we make vehicle transport simple and stress-free. Choose us for your next auto transport need in Miami!

[rightxonxmain-archived]

@timeguardians

#iLoveYouCindy

[maxlarens]

OP: i can’t complain but i will

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader; oscar piastri & driver!reader & lando norris; lando norris x oscar piastri

word count: 2.4k+

an: here’s a little bit of angst a little bit of fluff and me holding myself back from making osc x reader x lan a poly ship😭 disclaimer: this isn’t an accurate reflection of the events of the Hungary GP. i take creative liberties as usual! and sorry to lewis. it’s still a mercedes P3 i guess😭 also here are my thoughts on the race so nothing is misconstrued here. AND gif credit because it keeps disappearing!

I. I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out

Oscar crosses the finish line in Hungary and it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Y’know, fine in the way where there’s this feeling in his chest. This thing gnawing at his insides. At his gut. And maybe it’s his helmet, maybe it’s the temperature, but there’s something on his cheeks. Heat. Something burning. Maybe.

His mind goes immediately to those clips he’d seen of Lando’s onboard in Miami. The shrill little giggles, the high-pitch of his teammates voice, the cheer of the crowd faintly in the background. Crackle hiss—

No one’s cheering for Oscar—

Tom is on the radio.

Oscar’s not stupid, not by a long shot. He can hear the strained quality of it, the forced cheerfulness.

Yeah. Oscar apologises before he can think twice about it. It just slips out of him. He thinks of you telling him— on a Tuesday night two weeks ago— that he needed to “stop saying sorry so fucking much, Oscar”. The way he’d been distracted by his name in your mouth. Oscar. Not Osc like he’s used to, or the occasional Oscie you’re prone to throw out. Oscar. Like you were serious.

Whatever. He says something to Tom that his publicist would be proud of. Waves at the grandstands. Tries not to think, not like this. I didn’t want it like this.

A sigh leeches out of him. Lando’s car is in his periphery and you’re trailing behind him as the three of you turn. The three of you on a podium… it’s a dream come true for him. But— yeah— not like this.

He’s in the car for too long. Helmet on his head, where no one can see his face. He’s okay, he thinks. He’s fine.

He thinks of being a little kid at Albert Park. Watching F1 in the living room late at night. Getting in a kart for the first time and feeling alive. And okay—

Yes, there’s a sour taste in his mouth. Words unsaid sitting on his tongue. But he’s starting to feel the smile tugging at his lips. The feeling is his chest starts to ease, just a little. Just a bit.

He’s looking up and there’s you and there’s Lando. You’re on opposite sides of the car, Lando’s reaching for him, for his hand. Clutching it tightly. Lando squeezes once, his helmet covered face bobs in a nod that says something… part of Oscar hopes it’s I’m sorry. Another part of him is mad that it may not be.

And you, well you have no idea the half hour he’s just had. But your hand is on his shoulder and then on the top of his helmet and you’re whacking it with a gusto he hadn’t expected. He thinks you might be crying. You keep reaching in through your visor to wipe at your eyes and it’s making Oscar feel sick. You’re crying and he’s sitting here feeling sorry for himself because the win wasn’t perfect.

Fuck.

So Oscar grins and he bears it.

He gets out of the car and he smooths it over until everything is okay again. Because that’s what he’s good at. Because that’s how he’s made it here. Oscar Piastri is a team player, sometimes more than he is anything else. And that’s okay, that’s fine for now, because one day, eventually, Oscar is going to be the reason they need to hire a team player. One day he’ll be the beating heart of some Formula One team and he won’t have to win a race because his teammate had to let him by—

That’s not Lando’s fault either. Lando is…

He’s Lando. Oscar gets it.

Oscar gets it more than anyone.

II. I am obsessive. I contain nothing but the replay

Lando is trying so fucking hard not to have a tantrum.

It’s this infuriating feedback loop where he thinks I had it and then something cuts in to say but Oscar deserved it and then it starts over again. It’s making Lando feel like shit, for losing, for being a bad friend, for jeopardising the relative peace of the team. He’s trying to temper the angry, selfish little spoiled brat voice in his head but it’s so fucking hard to keep that dog on a leash.

He’s trying to be okay.

He’s in the post-race room with you and he’s trying to be fine.

And okay, so he knocks the stupid second place cap to the ground in front of the camera that’s broadcasting you guys to the world. Always second. God. He’d tasted a win in Miami and it’s almost like he’s worse off for it. It’s a win or it’s nothing and it’s tearing him apart from the inside out. There’s a voice in his head that’s saying, you’re just a one trick pony, Lando. Do it again and you might be worth something.

It’s making him crazy.

He bites his tongue. Turns to look at you, lounging in the third place chair like it doesn’t matter, like you’re happy to just be on the podium.

You raise an eyebrow at him, face blank but he knows what it says anyway. Be happy for him. He would be happy for you.

Fuck, and he would—

He would. Selfless and kind above all, Oscar.

Lando frowns, his back to the lens.

Your gaze flicks from him, to the hat on the floor. Pick it up, it says. Pick it up and pretend.

Lando picks it up. He’s the one who gave Oscar the position back after all. He’s his own worst enemy right now. Not you, certainly not Oscar—

Speaking of Oscar.

He’s here. He’s holding the first place cap that Lando wants to be his, he’s putting it on his head and Lando’s okay. Lando’s fine. He’s watching the race replay and seeing Max turn into your car and he’s trying desperately to look at that, pay attention to that, and not Oscar.

Because it hurts.

Not in a good way, not the way Lando looks at him sometimes and feels some yawning sun in his chest.

Instead there’s something bitter and snarling.

Some chained, angry dog on a leash.

Lando turns, goes to sit in the chair he doesn’t want to sit in, and catches Oscar’s eye. He feels the snarling thing strain, it goes to bark, to bite. Then Oscar smiles. It’s not much— it doesn’t reach his eyes exactly. But it’s effort. It’s thank you. It’s I know what that meant.

It’s enough.

III. He forgives you, dogs are like that, so loyal

You know something is off the second that you get out of the car. This isn’t what Oscar’s maiden win is supposed to look like— or it almost is, but the picture is wrong.

It’s not ecstatic, it’s not crowds chanting his name, it’s not Oscar getting out of the car like a shot and jumping into the arms of his team.

Instead, you see grim faces plastered over with smiles, McLaren engineers huddled into groups and talking in hushed tones. Lando’s sulking, you can tell by the set of his shoulders, the way people hover around him, keeping their distance a bit. You blink— there’s something in your eyes, your nose tingling with some emotion—

Whatever. You push it aside, go to Oscar’s car before anything else, before even taking your helmet off. It's you and Lando on opposite sides and whatever the case, whatever happened out there that you're not aware of, Lando's here. Lando's sucking it up.

You find out bits and pieces over the next hour, from your race engineer, from the post-race interviews, from Lando's attitude in the cool down room. The tension between them is bleeding into everything and they orbit around each other all afternoon. They can't quite look at each other, they keep making eye contact for a split second and then letting it slide away. They keep smiling these strained things at each other. Lando keeps reaching out to touch Oscar, but always at arms length. Like an apology neither of them can quite commit to.

You know it's the team that are the issue and it's also this hurt that Lando can't quite get over, and an Oscar who is trying to just be happy but needs more time to get there.

It's making your heart ache.

You've dreamt of this, stupidly enough. Oscar on the top step of the podium, that bunny-tooth grin of his spreading and spreading. Champagne and confetti. You're there, of course you're there. Lando is too. So it's painful to have that dream actualised and to realise it's not perfect— because, well, nothing ever is.

And it's fucking unfortunate.

But it's them. So it's fine.

You're baffled by that sometimes. You still hold grudges against old teammates. There are things you'll never forgive them for, wounds that will never heal. But you come back from your frustratingly long debrief and find them doubled over outside their driver's room, giggling their heads off at something. It's not perfect, there's still something between them, something in the air.

But they're trying.

And Oscar is smiling wider than you've seen in a long while.

So for Oscar's sake you push it aside—

It's always a little different away from prying eyes, away from rolling cameras, in front of which you feel pressure to act like Oscar and Lando are first and foremost your rivals. When they're gone they can just be your friends. Your boys.

Naturally, you're thudding into Oscar before he really notices you're there. Too busy throwing his head back at something Lando had said. He's still in champagne wet fireproofs as you reach your arms around his shoulders, but so are you. He smells vaguely like a wet dog and lets out a soft oft noise as you charge into him.

"Hey, race winner," you say as he threads his arms around your waist.

You put your forehead on his collarbone, close your eyes as a laugh flutters out of him. You hear it rumble in his chest as he rocks the two of you gently from side to side. It's giggly, light and joyful like the one he does when he's tipsy. But he's not tipsy, just happy you think.

"Race winner," he mumbles, low, quiet, to himself more than anything, "Yeah."

"Yeah," you whisper back.

You're like that maybe for too long. Longer than people who are just friends should be. You can hear Lando moving around behind you, asphalt grinding under his feet. His gaze prickling the back of your neck. Eventually, you pull away. You slide your hands to grip Oscar's shoulders, fingertips pressing into warm skin, lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. Accidentally, your lips land too close to the corner of his mouth, brushing against stubble and sweat. You hear something soft escape his lips, barely audible as his brown eyes bore into yours. Pupils blown large, gaze drifting momentarily down to your lips.

"Good job today, Osc," you say, trying not to let your breath hitch.

You pull away a little before he does something in the heat of the moment— and right in front of Lando, of all people. He's high on adrenaline, that's all. That's all.

"Thank you," he smiles, all teeth.

You feel hot all the way down your neck, into your chest. Hm, premature menopause, you think, rather than the obvious— which is that it makes you mega nervous to be that close to Oscar Piastri.

Lando clears his throat.

In a jerky, surprised movement you step away from Oscar, while Oscar fumbles awkwardly for his phone in his pocket. He holds it up, says something stumbling about calling his family and then takes only maybe five steps away before you or Lando can say a thing.

You laugh, just a little.

Then do a pleased little spin to face Lando.

Who seems better, lighter. At least in comparison to how he was immediately post-race. Which you’re glad to see. Especially after catching bits of his team radio from a brief conversation with George. You’re not particularly happy about it, but it’s not really your place to be upset.

“Hey,” you smile warmly.

He smiles back, tighter than you’d hoped.

You move a bit closer into his personal space, watching him carefully. It’s okay you think. He’s more subdued than usual, but you can’t see the seething thing that was under his skin earlier. That would be fine of course, he’s entitled to that, but his sake you’re glad it’s gone.

“You okay?”, you ask.

Lando nods, eyes falling closed momentarily as he hums contemplatively, “‘M okay. Happy for him.”

You nod, stepping closer to pull him into a one armed hug that’s not quite as energetic as the one you’d given Oscar before.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, pressing the side of your face into his cheek, “Upset too?”

He hums again, sighs, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

“Yeah,” because you get it,

Maybe not in these exact circumstances. But you know what it’s like. To chase a win with everything you have, to fall short after it’s been in your grasp. You understand that. So does Oscar—

Speaking of.

Oscar’s back, footsteps crunching asphalt behind you.

“They’re asleep,” he explains, “I’ll talk to them later.”

You half let Lando go, moving to accommodate the race winner into your little circle. They’re a bit weird about it, shuffling into place awkwardly, you’re not surprised after a day like today, but you persevere— wrapping arms around both of them and pulling them simultaneously down into a haphazard hug that you’re in the middle of.

Lando’s face is in your neck somehow, mumbling something about you being overbearing while his hand clutches at your waist to keep himself upright. Oscar’s arm is tight around your shoulders and your face is squished up against his chest. You squeeze tightly— let them go when it’s been a minute too long—

You can feel yourself almost getting caught up in the tangle of limbs. The warmth of your friends. The emotion of it. You think there’s something stuck in your eye again, something wet in your tear ducts.

You sniff, try to ignore it, hope they don’t see.

Then, stupid observant Oscar, “Are you crying?”

You let out an offended noise and shake your head to deny it, but instead something that’s almost a sob, but not quite, slips out—

“No,” you declare, but it’s unconvincing—

and then you’re back in the hug. All sweat and sticky champagne residue, Lando’s too-strong cologne and Oscar who smells like burnt rubber. And it’s not perfect, because nothing ever is, but it’s enough for you.

this was really cathartic for me to be honest. just needed my little driver!reader to hug landoscar after that race. needed to get some big feelings out and then needed a sweet little fluff section to make me feel better.

ALSO DISCLAIMER: this was a work of FICTION it does not reflect the entirety of what i feel about the events of the hungary gp. i am simply playing with dolls! thank you and goodbye!

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ i've missed you miami

♥ pairing: logan sargeant x fem!golfer!reader

♥ smau - fluff

♥ none of the pictures are mine, all were found on pinterest

♥ masterlist

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and 345,672 more

yourusername ready for LPGA

view comments

lilymhe good luck <3

yourusername you too babe <3

user10 GOOD LUCKK

user6 getting the prayer circle ready

landonorris we're rooting for you

yourusername thank you mwah mwah

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

-Top Golf-

“Alright teams of two,” Alex said to the group. “Lily and I, George and Carmen, Lando and Carlos…. which leaves Logan with Y/n.”

“Oh come on obviously Lily and Y/n are going to win. They have an unfair advantage.” George whined. 

You stepped up to the small square patch of turf with your golf ball and club. 

“Shouldn’t have invited two professionals to top golf then,” you laughed. 

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, and 782,384 more

logansargeant everyone say thanks to y/n for winning us top golf

view comments

landonorris booo

yourusername not my fault you suck at golf

carlossainz55 she’s just telling the truth lando

landonorris I hate you both

user2 why he posing like that

user14 oh!

user1 save a horse ride a cowboy

yourusername amen to that

user2 ON MAIN?!?! 😨

user7 new ship unlocked

user5 shoutout y/n for doing all the heavy lifting

landonorris I would also appreciate some sympathy for having to watch the two of them be all over each other

user7 SORRY?

user10 omg Lando spill

user16 Y/n and Lily ate them up huh?

user13 she’s so pretty :(

user12 the picture of Logan-

user14 this is so cute

user1 is it weird to say I ship

georgrussell63 I demand a rematch

yourusername you wanna lose twice?

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by landonorris, logansargeant, and 465,682 more

yourusername embracing my cuntry roots

view comments

landonorris yeehaw

yourusername 🦅🦅

user13 how coquette of you

user5 logan sargeant core

user4 he didn't invent cowgirls

user6 RAHH

user1 USA USA

user7 but does he say you're so american 🤨

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, and 348,620 more

yourusername hey miami, i've missed you

view comments

user13 logan in the comments logan in the comments

user7 guys she's there for golf, not Logan

logansargeant did you need a reminder not to feed the alligators

yourusername ...no

logansargeant ...

yourusername they're so cute

user3 ALLIGATORS?

logansargeant if you try pet one it WILL eat you

yourusername :(

user8 @/logansargeant would you fight an alligator for her

alex_albon im sure he would

user9 gotta make sure he's good enough for our queen y/n

user2 her hair >>>

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by yourusername, williamsracing, and 823,948 more

logansargeant home race

-comments are disabled-

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by francisca.gomes, lilymhe, and 372,392 more

yourusername me and the girls <3

view comments

francisca.gomes love you babes

yourusername ily pookie

logansargeant how come I wasn't invited?

yourusername its girls night

landonorris you'll get her attention during the race dw

user7 Lando is the biggest y/n x Logan shipper

user8 hes so me

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by logansargeant, carlossainz, and 370,239 more

yourusername I love you but not enough to let you win 💙

view comments

carlossainz be honest. who's a worse golfer: Logan or Lando

yourusername lando.

landonorris yea but only one of us can drive an f1 car and I'm pretty sure its not you

yourusername that's LOW

oscarpiastri when you go low, Lando goes lower

user8 the blue heart-

user14 its for Logan idc

user2 BLUE HEART FOR WILLIAMS

user18 "I love you but-" SORRY WHAT? I LOVE YOU?!

user9 I love you?!?! say it one more time for the people in the back

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and 862,947 more

view comments

user6 I love how this is him hard launching his relationship and then just a picture of him and Alex 😭

yourusername you- you're cheating on me with ALEX?!

alex_albon you weren't supposed to find out this way

yourusername @/lilymhe come collect your man

user7 I TOLD YOU THEY WERE IN LOVE

user19 YES ITS FINALLY HAPPENING

user1 idk who I wanna be more

user5 they're dating?

user12 yea it was so obvious

landonorris get a room

[its-all-papaya]

landoscar + 41? 🧡 maybe fake/pr-dating-turned-real-dating coded, so maybe even + 56? like, they realize the fake wasn't that fake anymore 🙈 (insert i am in love are you in love audio here)

they are both in love, anon.

(because i found it kind of impossible to explain without adding sooo much exposition... oscar is not a driver. he's just... a guy. that mclaren found. to date lando. suspend your disbelief, idk)

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

41. to pretend (or is it?) | landoscar | 1.2k

Lando is in over his head. His aching, pounding, hurts-so-bad-it’s-making-him nauseous head. If he’d known one throw-away trip to the club in Miami was going to complicate his life so irreparably, he would have tucked his P1 trophy into bed next to him and gone straight to sleep like a good, boring boy. Instead, he’d gotten catastrophically fucked-up on any number of things he doesn’t remember and tossed himself dick-first into an entire publicity nightmare. That’s the worst part, probably: Lando doesn’t even remember. He remembers taking shots with Max and Danny and he remembers – barely – stumbling to the bathroom, and the next discernable point on that mental timeline comes at approximately 6:45 a.m., when he’d woken up to go vomit and found his lock screen so full of notifications that it’d made him forget to wonder where the man he’d gone to bed next to had pissed off to so early.

Since then, every minute of Lando’s life not spent in the car has felt full wall-to-wall with interviews, and meetings with crisis management, and saying “I’d prefer not to comment on that” so many times he hears it on repeat like an ear worm when he’s falling asleep at night. And also Oscar. There’s been a lot of Oscar.

He’s waiting in the lobby of McLaren’s hospitality when Lando arrives down from his driver’s room after qualifying in Brazil. Lando wonders how he got in, if their bosses have finally decided he’s trustworthy enough to walk around unchaperoned. It’s funny that he ever didn’t have a pass, actually; he is technically a McLaren employee. Probably. Lando thinks he gets paid. They’ve never talked about the specifics.

Either way, however he got there, Oscar is by himself in the lobby, leaned back in a chair, thumbing at his phone. He looks up when he senses Lando’s arrival, and Lando must look even more pathetic than he even thought, because Oscar’s face immediately goes soft with concern and he leaps up to take Lando’s bag off his hands.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks. He slides the backpack onto his own shoulders and then steadies a hand in the middle of Lando’s back, thumb tracing comforting little circles near his spine.

Lando could lie, but there’s not really any point to that, so he lets his face fold into the grimace it wants to be in and presses his thumb between his eyebrows.

“Head’s killing me,” he says. It comes out weak.

Oscar makes a sad little sound in sympathy, and the palm on Lando’s back shifts to his side so Oscar can tug him closer. Lando doesn’t have the energy to fight Oscar on these things at the best of times lately, so he’s definitely not going to when he’s exhausted and sick with the pain behind his eyes. Even though there’s really nobody around to see them.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel, then,” Oscar says, and Lando has never agreed to anything faster.

Oscar leads the way out of hospitality and through the paddock, fingers linked securely between Lando’s own. It’s baffling that he’s already been around this circus long enough to know the way without help. Nice, though, because Lando’s not really in a state to be of any.

They run into a few people along the way – fans or sponsors or employees. Lando doesn’t get the chance to tell which are which, because every time somebody new greets them, Oscar’s fingers tighten around his own and he talks the both of them cleverly out of the conversation before Lando can even consider what he would say if he was left to his own devices. It feels nearly impossible that less than six months ago, Oscar could barely say two words to Lando without being directly asked to.

“Oscar!” he hears as they’re nearing the exit, and they’re so close to relative quiet that Lando can’t help but groan about it. Oscar squeezes his hand again like an apology as he turns to address whoever it is.

"What’s up?” Oscar asks. When Lando lifts his eyes from the pavement, it’s Max stood before them. Both of his hands are hooked in the straps of his backpack and his chest is heaving just a little, like he’d jogged to catch them up.

“You’ll of course be at the race tomorrow?” Max asks. Lando’s not sure where this conversation is going, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t have to happen right now. He hopes the look he’s giving Max is sufficiently irritated.

It must do the job, because Max’s eyes brighten and he says “Not pleased about that, Lando?”

Oscar’s hand goes from Lando’s palm to his back again, quick, and before Lando can open his mouth, Oscar’s saying, “He doesn’t feel good.”

“Ah,” Max says. Lando can’t figure out the look he’s being given.

“The race tomorrow?” Lando presses. If they’re going to chat about whatever it was right now, they could at least get to the point.

Max nods, shifting his gaze back to Oscar, “You are staying, yeah?”

“Yeah," Oscar says, "Why?”

It’s taking too long. Lando squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against Oscar’s shoulder, hoping the counterpressure might do anything at all for the hot ache in his brain. Oscar’s hand goes immediately to the back of Lando’s neck, like it’s habit, and his thumb starts drawing firm lines down the muscle there, hairline to nape. It feels…really, really nice, actually.

“You’ll fly back with us after,” he can make out Max saying, “to Monaco. Lando and I and a few others.”

That doesn’t really make sense. Oscar’s been planning to go home for a bit over the mini break, Lando knows, they talked about it nearly right away when the agreement was drawn up. Far be it from him to argue that point, though, not when Oscar’s saying “Yeah, thanks, mate,” and his thumb’s still easing the pain in Lando’s skull. Lando would blame it on the headache, but it’s not like he’ll mind the extra time with Oscar, either. Which Max knows.

Lando cracks his eyes open and shifts enough to squint suspiciously at his friend, but Max is just grinning happily at the pair of them.

“Very good,” Max says. Sure.

“That’s all?” Oscar asks. His thumb finally stills. Lando does not whine about it, but it’s a close thing.

“Yes,” Max says, “you can take grumpy home now.”

Then, before Lando can decide whether that’s worth getting upset over, Oscar squeezes the back of his neck and nudges him up off his shoulder. His eyes are apologetic when Lando meets them, and he kisses Lando once on the forehead as he slides their palms back together.

It’s nice. Domestic. Very convincing, probably. Oscar’s gotten really good at his job.

“We’ll see you, mate,” Oscar says.

Max clasps Oscar’s hand for a second, then squeezes Lando’s shoulder on his way by.

When he's a few steps off, Oscar says, “Ready?” like Lando hasn’t been begging to go this whole time.

Lando says yes, please and he can tell it's a little whiny, because Oscar says "Hey, okay love, I'm sorry" and brushes a gentle kiss against his lips. Lando thinks Max is probably too far away to see it, but Oscar would know better.

It’s not until they’re finally settled into the back of the car, sides pressed together, that Lando remembers:

“Max knows about everything. You didn’t have to… he knows.”

Oscar’s gaze is soft and maybe a little sad, for some reason, but he smiles past it and combs his fingers through Lando’s hair until he settles.

“Yeah,” Oscar says as Lando’s head falls back against his shoulder, “He does.”

[hellsite-yano]

STEAM NEXT FEST DEMOS I PLAYED:

>500 CALIBER CONTRACTZ Highlight of this list. Literally Super Mario 64 x Cruelty Squad with a Suda51 coat of paint. Highly recommend.

>Antishoot / Morn FPS games that feel terrible to play. Avoid.

>SAEKO: Giantess Dating Sim Title says it all. Pretty solid and unnerving writing.

>Mother Hub Like if the abandoned vaults in Fallout 3/NV were the whole game. Your enjoyment of this depends entirely on your tolerance for slavjank. I liked it tho.

>Year Unknown Good so far - if you've played games like Manifold Garden and NaissanceE you know what you're getting here. Combine that with the terminals from The Talos Principle and you get this game.

>Elation For The WonderBox 6000™ This is SHORT (less than 5mins) but I've had my eye on this for ages. The writing is very online but in a good way.

>Skyward Dream Kinda boring first-person platformer.

>THRESHOLD Another short one. Kinda reminds me of Pathologic but on the PS1. The grimy aesthetic is nailed down perfectly. If you liked Paratopic check this one out.

>Galaia Dev describes it as TUNIC x Enter the Gungeon but it's not really. Gameplay reminded more of Geometry Wars if anything. Was kinda fun but don't think I'll get this.

>BRUTAL JOHN Been seeing this around on twitter and avoided it due to it seeming bland. And I was right!

>Kitsune Tails SMB3 with a traditional japanese aesthetic. Solid and the characters are cute.

>Sparedevil A 'shooter' where you're in a bowling arena and need to knock down as many pins as possible. Couldn't really get the hang of this.

>I Am Your Beast SUPERHOT / Hotline Miami fans will want to check this one. I liked it but the story is presented pretty obnoxiously.

>Bloodless Beat 'em up where you play as an old samurai who doesn't use a sword (anymore). Gameplay takes a bit of getting used to but it's fun and the story's intriguing.

>Poke ALL Toads Puzzle game structured like Baba is You with really good and expressive art. Liked this one a lot.

>Caravan SandWitch One of those slow exploration-focused games like Sable. Liked the aesthetic and music but dialogue was a bit long-winded.

>ODDADA You play with toys to make music (and you can even save your creations offline). Very nice.

>B.C. Piezophile Control a weighty mech looking for a lost ship or something like that, the encyclopedia (yes, there's an encyclopedia) is written pretty esoterically so it's hard to figure some things out. Requires patience but got my eyes on the full release.

>Old School Rally PS1 styled racing game, takes a bit of getting used to the feel of the car, PROTIP: it's better to pump the brakes instead of holding them.

>Goblin Cleanup Viscera Cleanup Detail except you're a sexy goblin maid cleaning up a dungeon. Was pretty fun, especially online.

>Scarmonde Final Fantasy 1 but it's a dungeon crawler. Not my sort of game but if you're into this genre you'd probably like this.

>Bedrotting You're stuck in bed and got to keep yourself sane by eating, smoking, and not looking at the horrific abominations. Good stuff.

>Blue Prince You inherit a mansion and need to find the secret 46th room. Won't say too much about this because it's best discovered by yourself. Was very good though.

>Stardust Demon Didn't like the physics on this. Pass.

[covenofthearticulate]

writing prompt: armand & louis in the car on the way to night island 🥹

Drabble Prompts | Always Accepting!

Even in the reflection of the car window, the vision of Armand seems something of a relic, like a long-forgotten saint looming in stained glass. It’s easier, to stare at his reflection blurred against the palm trees and high-rise buildings of the cityscape that grows smaller and smaller in the distance. He can’t bring himself to look directly at him just now, and perhaps that is for the best either way. 

In the front seat, the mortal driver fusses with the climate control. A gush of cool air hits his face, and Louis immediately finds himself reaching for the little vent, pushing it sideways and away from him to escape the onslaught of air conditioning (he has always enjoyed the warm, sticky air; it reminds him of home). 

“I’ve made arrangements for you all,” Armand breaks the silence without drawing his gaze from the window. “You’ll have a chamber for yourself, of course. As for any other provisions you may require, you need only ask.”

“That is indeed very generous of you.”

Louis bows his head, a long ingrained signal of diplomacy.

Another moment of silence passes between them as the sky opens up to the glistening Miami water. 

“Will the boy spend his death sleep in a coffin of his own, or does he reside with you during the day?”

“His name is Daniel.”

“Yes,” says Louis. “I remember.”

A beat, and Louis watches something shift in Armand’s expression reflecting from the window. Something in the pinch of his brows, a stiffening of his lip. 

“I don’t wish to speak of all that now.”

“What do you wish to speak about?”

Armand shrugs, turns to look straight at Louis and even in the silence, there is a strange unspoken passion behind his eyes. For one striking moment, Louis feels himself transported back to that lifetime long ago, where every evening was spent just like this, in solemn silence, trapped together in some foreign train car, or carriage, or ship, always so close and yet a million lightyears away. How different would their paths have been, if Louis had allowed space in his heart for the ugly truth of his adoration? Is it too late to speak to it now, after all that has happened?

But then Armand leans his head against the window and allows his gaze to drift toward the driver up front, and the spell is broken, and they are once again in the luxurious black car speeding through the glimmering lights of Miami.

“Are you satisfied, at last, with the answers you’ve received?” Armand asks eventually in that soft, secretive tone.

A bitter smile tugs at Louis’ lips as he settles back in his seat. 

“I don’t wish to speak of all that now,” he parrots Armand’s response with a sigh. 

Armand seems to smile at that, and for one blinding moment Louis feels something quicken in him, something brilliant and radiant and cataclysmic. Touche, say Armand’s warm brown eyes, and just like that, the flame is reignited. 

As the silence hangs in the air between them once more, Louis tries to conjure the words that had so desperately waited at the tip of his tongue in California. All the feeling in his chest as he’d smashed Armand’s coffin against the stone of his brother’s grave. All the things he never had the courage to speak into that little recorder that night on Divisadero. All the broken promises and empty pleas he’d meant to air before the end of the world as they knew it. 

But he doesn’t know how. 

He leans over instead, and presses a gentle kiss to the apple of his cheek, humming gently when he feels Armand nuzzle back against him. 

And the silence for the rest of the car ride suddenly feels like an old friend.

[killerandhealerqueen]

[Adapted from booksta by @sageofgrace | IG: thebookishsage] CLICK HERE FOR THE TEMPLATE

Thank you for the tag @clawbehavior!

5 Fics I Always Rec

1. After Rio (Eric Delko/Ryan Wolfe) by Morgane (smilla840):

Eric and Horatio are back. Not all is well. [M]

2. To Your Heart’s Content (Max Verstappen/Charles Leclerc) by Richardmarie75: [E]

Max pinched the bridge of his nose as he went into the car. Before his chauffeur could close the door, however, Daniel leant in, having rushed from the bar’s entrance. "I forgot to tell you…" the Australian begun, his face serious and grave. Max gritted his teeth, silently nodding for the man to continue. He couldn’t stand much more. He wanted to scream at the entire world. To run home and hide and force some sense down his own throat. To put himself back together. "I left a- a gift at your house. For your birthday… I planned it long ago, before-" "Alright," Max cut him, short and harsh. or Charles, a high end prostitute, finds himself in the arms of a man who really, really, cares for him, despite the gun on his nightstand.

3. contact-drunk (Oscar Piastri/Logan Sargeant) by miamis: [E]

Oscar’s unsure of how he even ended up here, at a frat party, flirting with one of the brothers. But Logan is pretty handsome.

4. lilies are for liars (Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess) by Ahenix [T]:

A blood-covered psychiatrist stumbles into an assassin's flower shop, and a guide to floriography becomes the key to flirting and murder. The reality of it is actually simpler than it sounds.

5. 恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer (Jiang Yuelou/Chen Yuzhi) by killerandhealerqueen [M]:

It was a dark and stormy night as a tall man with light skin, brown eyes, and dark brown hair dressed in a three-piece suit was riding his bicycle down a dirt road, a doctor’s kit in the bicycle’s side basket.

4 Auto-Read Authors

Phebes

XiaoTuzi

killerandhealerqueen

ahhhnorealnamesallowed

3 Of My Favorite Tags

hurt/comfort

fluff

emotional hurt/comfort

2 Ships I'm Vibing With

Jiang Yuelou/Chen Yuzhi

Oscar Piastri/Logan Sargeant

1 Fic I'm Reading Next

Haunting by youreahizzardwarry (newest chapter just updated)

Tagging: @breitweisergallery @sunriseverse @mishathewtf @theotherwhybietoldmeso @hyperbolicgrinch

@dramaloverrants @ahhhnorealnamesallowed @okifyouinsist and anyone else who wants to play

[nationwideautocarriers12]

Premium Miami Auto Transport Services

Discover hassle-free Miami auto transport with our trusted services. We specialize in securely transporting all types of vehicles, from luxury cars to everyday sedans. Enjoy door-to-door delivery, flexible scheduling, and real-time tracking for peace of mind. Our experienced team prioritizes your vehicle's safety and ensures timely arrival, making your transport experience seamless and stress-free. Get a free quote today!

[doulayogimama]

I may in fact regret this because I’m still not physically okay, but I booked a flight to Miami for 6 days so I could be with my Mimi post OP.

She has her surgery this Friday and I have my anatomy US on Monday, which I couldn’t move any earlier. So on Wednesday I’m flying with just Sky and then I’ll be back before my next appointment on the 4th.

My Mimi was really happy and this way I can also “ship” a bunch of stuff down so that we don’t have to take so much in the car with us in our drive down next month. Sky and I both get checked bags for free so extra skincare, clothes, books, etc will be taken with us to leave there 👍🏽

[itsblasttothepast]

My only consolation is that with Oscar winning, Checo still mantains his record as most victories in Baku.

Also, if Carlos and Checo were back to be friendly, that's gone now with this, because seeing how Checo got out of his car to yell at him, I think that ship has sailed.

And hating the fuckers saying that Checo cost them the WCC, first of all, the season isn't over yet, and second, he was doing amazing! It was a secure podium, he can't control what other drivers do.

Ugh, pookie, you were amazing, your best race since Miami. Singapore is next, time to regroup and get revenge on these hoes.

[deathbyexhile]

Retribution. ( prologue ) — jackson rippner x reader

Summary: Jackson Rippner is back from his failed mission and no one is happy about it. Pairing: Jackson Rippner x Reader Content: Light smut, just a little tease. More to come later Word Count: 701

The first words Jackson Rippner hears when he wakes up are, “You’re lucky that you looked so pathetic in that hospital bed.” You’re standing over him, holding the supplies to change his bandages. After the failed assassination attempt, the rest of the crew wanted to leave Jackson behind and let homeland security deal with him. He wouldn’t snitch, we’d be able to get to him if he did.

Jackson looks up at you, his eyes are trying to adjust to the darkness of the cargo ship cabin you’re currently in. “The others wanted to leave you behind,” You cup his cheek and rub your thumb against his grown-out stubble. “But when I saw you there, hooked up to the machine, recovering from a vocal cord surgery that they only gave you so that they could question you and have you testify. I just felt such pity.” You pull your hand away, “You looked like a wounded little animal.”

Ever the fighter, Jackson tried to move, but both hands were cuffed to the bed. He tried to talk but it came out scratchy and unintelligible. “I wouldn’t talk if were you.” You roll my eyes, life just couldn’t keep him down. “When I working as your nurse at the hospital, they said you’d need to rest your vocal cords for a week. You’ve got a few more days to go.” His eyes go wide with anger and you laugh. Normally, an angry Jackson would be something to worry about, but right now he was like a neutered dog in a cone. Just wondering what the hell was going on and where his balls were. “That right there might just kill you.” He had always been a talker. Even getting stabbed in the throat by Lisa didn’t stop him.

While you clean his other wounds from the fight, you catch him up on what’s happened since he passed out on the floor of the Reisert house. “Clearly you and the plan to assassinate Keefe failed. Really it was doomed from the start if you ask me. A rocket launcher? I would have just gone with poison or a car accident, but you boys just had to go big.” You laugh again and look over at him. He’s got that usual displeased look about him. His head titled down, slightly furrowed brow, and pouty lips. “And I told you that Lisa wouldn’t be a good target. You told you she’d fight back, but no…you followed her for weeks.” Mocking his deep voice, “I know her. She’s a naive girl who drinks Seabreezes and calls her dad every day.” He pouts even more. “But she stabbed you and now your face is all over the news.”

Upon hearing the word news, Jackson’s eyes go wide, like he suddenly remembered he’s a wanted man. “Don’t worry. We’re on some old cargo ship heading far away from the United States. When things cool down we’ll get you a new identity and bring you back.” Not to Miami or Texas, but there were other states. He couldn’t be trusted to talk to any hostages. “You’ll be relegated to research and planning with me.” He moved his mouth to talk but then remembered he couldn’t. “Yes even with all your looks and charm, you’ll be stuck behind the scenes with me.” He hated not being the center of attention. Jackson Rippner needed to be the one calling the shots.

When you're finished changing his bandages, you say, “Just one more question, Jack. Did you fuck her?” His blue eyes had that wild look in them. Strapped the bed, bandages around his neck and chest, stubble now a week grown out, he looked like a madman. A smile, delighting in his frustration. “No, but you wanted to fuck her, right? Was your cock the reason we failed?” you reach down and stroke him through his pants. His eyes roll back and he lets out a scratchy pathic groan.

When he opens his eyes, You're on the other side of the room. You knock on a heavy metal door, it swings open and Jackson can see two armed guards. You look back at him and say, “You owe me big time.”

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Lalisa Love Me

♥ pairing: lalisa manoban x fem!driver!reader

♥ smau 

♥ content: fluff <3 

♥ a/n: I’m an f1 loving american lesbian blink so when lisa wove the checkered flag in miami  I knew I had to write this. This is also my first posted fic :) - none of the pictures are mine

liked by lalalalisa_m, blackpinkofficial, and 706,435 more 

yourusername Blackpink in your area @/blackpinkoffical 

view comments

user12 SHE’S A BLINK?! 

 yourusername 🩷🖤 

user4 the crossover we never knew we needed 

landonorris where was my invite? 

yourusername must’ve got lost in the mail :/ 

 landonorris …

user5 my worlds are colliding 

lilymhe bring me next 

yourusername I WILL DW 

alex_albon I see how it is

yourusername GIRLS NIGHT IDEA - us and the wags go to their LA concert

francisca.cgomes I’ll be there 

roses_are_rosie hope we see you again! 

    yourusername <3 

user7 already writing fanfiction 

   user3 new character unlocked 

user5 she’s gonna show up at Jackson Wang’s party just wait 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 416,587

yourusername COACHELLA ☀️ - tagged lalalalisa_m

view comments

yourusername you guys killed it btw

*liked by lalalalisa_m*

user6 the amount of lisa pictures-

user10 its almost like she was there just for her

user6 she probably was ngl I'd be there just for Lisa too

user14 They are both MOTHER

user17 Lisa x y/n was NOT on my 2023 bingo card

landonorris I am once again asking for blackpink tickets

user10 PLEASE hsndnksjs

user7 he's so real for that

yourusername @/landonorris get your own tickets

user5 Lisa 🛐

yourusername i agree.

user5 wait what

user8 aaaand screenshoted

user7 my new wallpaper

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, lalalalisa_m, and 827,942 more

yourusername Congrats World Champ <3 You drove one hell of a year.

view comments

maxverstappen1 you drove amazing yourself. p2 overall is great, especially in your second season

*liked by yourusername*

user1 lisa liked this post btw

user3 they're literally canon at this point

user7 WHEN WILL OUR MOTHERS GET TOGETHER?

user5 congrats girly

user7 literally crying at lisa liking this post

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

liked by yourusername, sooyaaa_, and 743,078

lalalalisa_m See You Soon <3

view comments

user17 ??? CONTEXT ???

user2 Don't be shy, tell us who

user7 the car pic...? liked by y/n....?

user1 I SEE THE VISION

user4 *me waiting for a lisa x y/n relationship megathread*

user8 unrelated but she looks stunning

user9 posted the DAY OF f1 winter break. not a coincidence.

user3 my otp

user12 I ship so hard

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

liked by yourusername, jennierubyjane, and 506,902 more 

lalalalisa_m Waving the flag @/yourusername @/redbullracing 

view comments

yourusername so glad you're here

     lalalalisa_m <3 

user3 the picture in the middle hello??? 

landonorris so @/yourusername lied about being sick last week? 

yourusername yes and I’d do it again

landonorris the betrayal 

 yourusername you’ll live 

jennierubyjane good luck! 

   yourusername thanks jen <3

user2 NEED more lisa x y/n content 

    user7 on it 🫡

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

liked by redbullracing, yourusername, and 650,432 more

lalalalisa_m P3! That's my girl 🍾 - tagged yourusername

view comments

lilymhe love you both

*liked by lalalalisa_m and yourusername*

user16 lets goo p3

user7 "my girl" sorry- MY GIRL?

user4 hey siri, play we fell in love in october

user12 honorary wag

liked by roses_are_rosie, landonorris, and 1,034,607 more

yourusername Lalisa Love Me @/lalalalisa_m

view comments

landonorris FINALLY

yourusername love the enthusiasm

landonorris we've been waiting for over a year

alex_albon he's right

user5 OKAY PEOPLE IT'S HAPPENING. EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM

user7 our fanfics came ture

user2 Jackson Wang's parties never disappoint.

user12 SCREAMING CRYING KICKING MY FEET

user3 "lisa I'm gay for you" same

user7 she's so real for that

user1 let's go lesbians let's go

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

end notes: I literally skipped my eng essay just for this lmao. this is for a pretty niche audience but I hope ya'll enjoyed it <3 idk if I'ma post more fics here but I might! thanks for reading.

[falntcry]

A Mess It Grows - LS18, OP81

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Oscar Piastri (Maplescotch)

Summary: Following Lando's win at Miami, an insecure Oscar heads to his hotel room to regress. One of his boyfriends follows suit to comfort him the only way they know how.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, kink themes (petplay/animal play), sfw intimacy, hurt/comfort, mentions of polyamory, use of pet names

A/N: Crosspost of my fic from my ao3 (inlovingmemory) and also my first fic here. Maplescotch is such an underrated ship and one of the few I would actually die for. (Mainly bc I'm a sucker for ships only I care about) Enjoy.

-

The checkered flag waved as crowds clad in orange and black began their frantic frenzy. 8 seconds ahead of the 3-times World Champion, for several laps. The rows upon rows of fans under the Florida sun were livid at the sight. Could it really be? A car the color of papaya-orange crossed the finish line for the first time since 2021. But an Australian wasn't the winner. Not this time.

No, that Australian was at Toro Rosso now. AlphaTauri. RB. Whatever they were called, it wasn't Red Bull or McLaren. He was stuck situated behind a Sauber and would likely be his same, bitter, old self after the race.

Yet, there was one Australian today who got the shorter end of that stick. One younger, yet dressed in the same ol' familiar orange and black. Bright, exhausting orange like his car. The one cameras paid no focus on: Oscar Piastri. Driver for McLaren, Alpine survivor, and 2 seasons into F1. Drove his car off for podium place until Carlos collided his Ferrari into the papaya boy. 

Front wing damage. No penalty. Late leaving the pit stop from repairs. Forcibly having to settle for 13th place with no points. Losing his place late in the race while Lando was having the time of his life.

Oh yes, Lando. Lando Norris.

There's not much the Aussie could say about the Brit. They were teammates, they were competitors. Nothing more, nothing less than that. They got along, admittedly, only because Oscar knew they had to.

Being at Alpine years ago, he witnessed the opposite firsthand. His long-term boyfriend, Esteban Ocon, had been the subject of several cutthroat backtalk and altercations involving fellow Frenchman Pierre Gasly. Sly remarks full of snark and internal gossip with mean looks, or full on fights in private. It would get nasty, almost catfight-ish. All Oscar could do was sit back and watch like a child of divorce, until he'd have to later comfort and ice Ocon's bruises.

The Aussie knew any teammate relationship could turn sour like theirs at any time. No matter how long or how deep their bond went, a budding rose always came to grow thorns. He's seen the contempt boil and bubble, masked behind the Frenchmens' PR-fueled, artificial smiles for social media. Pierre's faux-friendliness on and off-camera had targeted him too, coming from someone who desperately wanted to lure the young driver in despite knowing Esteban's warnings. Even the most enticing of snakes prepped their fangs.

But Lando wasn't like that.

Atleast, that's what Oscar hoped. Since switching his colors from Alpine's sugary, teeth-rotting, cotton candy-esque light blue and pink to a more vivid orange, the relationship between the two Anglophones had since been short of amiable. Sure, maybe they weren't constantly at eachother's throats - and maybe Oscar should've been grateful for that - but they weren't the best of friends either. Or friends at all. An air of stillness had settled between them since they first met in the same garage over a year ago, growing like a thick fog. 

McLaren and F1's social media could paint the papaya pair like two peas in an overwhelmingly positive pod as much as they wanted, but all it did was make them look good. Good. Marketable. Two young drivers ready to take on the whole grid, overwhelmingly clad in black and orange. A World Champion-in-the-making and a former rookie who seemingly locked together like two puzzle pieces. Landoscar, the fans called it. Soulmates, everyone viewed it.

If it were that easy, maybe Oscar would already be attached to the hip of the Brit. Maybe Lando - for how much he flaunted his shamelessly hedonistic lifestyle as if it were his sole personality trait and thought inside that hollow head of his - would atleast make the effort to include and invite him to stuff once in a while. It's not like Oscar was begging to go to his teammate's pretentious parties across Europe, full of high-class randoms several leagues above him. Full of people he didn't know nor could care less about him or his relationships. Instead, Oscar usually kept quiet, only bothering to smile and make small talk when McLaren needed them to. Even when the cameras weren't rolling, it was never like he asked the Brit time and time again to be besties, although sometimes he wish he did. 

Lando wouldn't have to pretend to reach out to him after their social media shoots, pretending to be interested in him and his life. The Aussie knew deep down his teammate, for how dull he proudly was, was playing the same games he was, tricking the media and inadvertently, Oscar aswell. People already thought they were the "bestest" of teammates compared to the other, far more infamous pairs on the grid. The thought made Oscar shiver.

Even his boyfriends, despite the bias against them, were never the subject of tabloids as much as the Brit was. If anything, his two lovers being disliked helped keep their relationship out of the spotlight - yet it only made the vipers of paparazzi focus solely on Lando and Oscar. Labeled as 'friends', an 'ideal couple,' despite the younger man already having special people (who were also on the grid) in his life. But God help him for actually thinking journalists payed attention to what was true.

Maybe he wouldn't be constantly compared to Lando - more than he already was - if they actually were good friends like the news said. Oscar was just a former rookie in the eyes of his team and the media, but Lando was a proven, soon-to-be World Champion. Every step he took, praise followed like a trail of gold. His own red carpet. Even the cameras were too bright, Oscar was almost blinded despite how far he was shoved out their view.

In regards to the times where he, or perhaps where McLaren allowed him to, shone, he was restricted to playing 2nd. Times where he could've helped the team gain points were never considered when they focused on his tanner teammate to earn another podium. Oscar would have to stick towards the back end of the race, feeling too insecure to look at his manager in the eye in the garage. A disgustingly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd grown familiar with. And as he predicted, this strategy (or lack thereof) happened again today.

Except Lando was a race winner now.

-

The heat of the Miami sun rested upon Oscar's back as he begrudgingly exited the cockpit, his fireproofs and suit on fire as he ripped off his helmet. What a horrible race that was, just his luck to go from top 4 to being the loser in a challenge with Carlos. The Spaniard seemed to collide with him, giving him damage to his front wing as he'd end up losing his place. Sure, he was able to get back in the race and set the fastest lap so he'd gain something out of it, even if it was to just end up behind an Alpine and out of points territory. But it didn't really mean anything when he had his race ruined and McLaren couldn't care less about him. 

From where he currently was in the garage, God Save The King blared in the distance, like a thought he couldn't truly escape. If he were a little more patriotic, he'd find it nauseating. But even if he wasn't, it still was. Everywhere he went, it seemed to remind him that he'd never be good enough. He'd never be like him in their eyes, only a liability. Feeling sick again, Oscar ran and tried finding the nearest bathroom, far from the McLaren garage. Far from the podium. He couldn't bear to deal with the strategists and members of the team crowding his way right now. 

It was his day. Lando's day. It always was.

Stood proud on the podium were the same three that usually stood there: a McLaren, a Red Bull, and a Ferrari. A Brit, a Dutchman. and a Monegasque. The sun's golden glare made them looked blessed, like a trio of angels. Oscar couldn't bother to look from behind his back, ignoring the barrage and sea of voices and lights blinding and deafening him if he did. But they weren't for him, not all of them. It didn't matter. The spotlight was focused on something - rather, someone - else, and he needed to leave. Fast and unbothered. His hotel couldn't have been that far from the track, especially when he was sure some of the other drivers were headed their way there also after the race ended. 

Especially the two he knew, who he shared a room with. Who he always shared hotel rooms with, discretely under the guise of being a "group of best friends." Whatever people thought, Oscar needed them. Particularly in this moment, when his head began to feel too heavy for him to support himself. When he needed to be away from the masses and fall into a special sort of headspace only they knew about, behind closed doors. Those special, intimate moments. 

After having to do some careful finding in the garage and stripping of his fireproofs, Oscar grabbed his phone and immediately went to his contacts. He's changed enough out of his race suit and back to regular McLaren merch that he could sneak back out to the paddock. In such a fast amount of time too, seeing how the rest of the papaya crew was still too focused on throwing Lando around. Then again, Oscar was rushing in a hurry and practically gone ghost once he situated his cap.

Most of the drivers on the grid stayed at the same hotel for certain races, their team executives booking them months in advance. They were never usually that far from the track or paddock either, for the teams convienence. Such was the case for Miami, where Oscar currently padded open the resort's luxerious doors in an urgent manner. Did McLaren need him right now? Probably, if Lando's win got boring to rub in. Would Oscar head back to attend? Nope.

As the Aussie went to dial the number labelled, "Lancey," in a strike of coincidence, life decided to serve itself to him for once. Meeting eye to eye with the Canadian again off track, the taller male's expression went from one of surprise to worry. The concern seemed to rub off the younger man, as evident by how Lance was able to pick up on it quickly.

"Osc, what are ya' doing here? Shouldn't you be at McLaren's garage?"

Nothing. No response. All he received was a big, brown-eyed stare from his dark brown eyes into his. Lance's worry seemed to grow tenfold at his boyfriend's out-of-character silence. Something must've been really wrong, his race must've gone pretty bad. Lance knew his wasn't great either, but Oscar handled his more deeply.

The Canadian looked down with his own dark eyes, reflecting a vulnerable Oscar in them like a mirror. His voice almost cracked, bringing a hand to grip his tightly as he pulled them towards the elevator. Oscar wasn't even aware that the button for their floor was clicked, and soon they were off.

"I'll- I'll need to phone Esteban as soon as possible, tell him he needs to come back immediately. He's—" Lance's voice trembled, as if he had something stuck in his throat. This ride was taking too long, goosebumps forming on skin from pure nervousness.

Seemingly noticing, Oscar rubbed his head of fluffy peanut-brown hair against his side. He looked up into the eyes of his boyfriend, and felt the Canadian's nerves rapidly calm down. Realizing what kind of care Oscar needed now, the taller man spoke again, this time much more clearly.

"Esteban, right. Este is uhm, busy with Fernando right now. He'll be back soon, hopefully with some food. But I might need him to come quicker, especially since you're going into err—" Oscar pawed at Lance's sweater, cutting his train of thought off again. Feeling concerned yet a little more relaxed now, he laughed. Their elevator had reached their floor. Lance heard Oscar whine a little at how hard he gripped the Aussie's hand while walking over to their room door.

"Pupspace." A smile bright as the morning sun spread on his features. Oscar's followed as he laid put on the velvet floor, restlessly pawing at his feet.

He would've preferred if he had brought a leash to Aston Martin's garage, or perhaps if Esteban did to Alpine's. It would've made his job a lot easier, yet it's not like he could've predicted Oscar would regress this soon. Or this severe. Or Nando potentially finding it on accident. That would've been one hell of an embarrassing talk.

After some fumbling with the lock of the hotel door and Lance's strangely large quantity of keys, the door finally let loose. The Montrealer squatted down near the Australian, exchanging a gentle glance and offering his hand to help him back up to his feet, although only to walk him inside. Oscar's weight felt like a bag of thick rice, needing all of Lance's support to be carried inside as if he couldn't use his legs anymore. Granted, that was because he couldn't. He wasn't "grown" enough to do so currently. 

The lights of their hotel room were turned down low, a nice warm orange coating everything. Enough time had passed that the Miami sun had begun to set, its luminous colors bleeding through the large glass windows and fine curtains as it dipped into the horizon. The sight almost made Lance sleepy, almost falling into a drowsy state before realizing he was carrying someone much sleepier already.

Setting Oscar aside on the nearest couch, he kept his head up as the Aussie looked at him with pleading eyes. Wanting warmth and attention now that they were behind closed doors, he whined again, in a higher pitch than last time. Lance couldn't help but chuckle, hands on his hips as he returned some sass.

"Alright alrighty, Butterscotch. I'm trying to be fast for ya, but you're asking quite a lot!" The mahogany of the Canadian's lively eyes reflected back onto Oscar's, who couldn't help his cheeks grow pink like bushes of roses. The younger man watched from his place, sat on the couch, as Lance looked around their temporary living space for a few moments. Almost urgently so.

When finished, he had a familiar leather collar wrapped in his hands. Oscar's eyes went wide at the sight. Unable to keep his excitement down, he reached his thin paws out in a 'grabby' motion and yelped. Yip yapping away. Another laugh escaped Lance, who rested a rough hand on Oscar's shoulder. "Who knew Esteban and I had such a needy, impatient puppy..."

"But I shouldn't mock you this much, especially when ya need this more than me right now." Despite his outward manner and physique compared to the Aussie, the Quebecker's hands were quite gentle as he began wrapping the accessory around his partner's neck. Oscar, of course, stayed still and soaked in the attention like a sponge. Feeling the black and orange-accented leather lock into place and hearing his name tag (which simply read: "OP31, replies to 'Oscar' or 'Butterscotch.' If found, return to Stroll or Ocon.") jingle, he finally relaxed. The bad thoughts from earlier were beginning to drain out.

Not bothering to change either of them out of their team merch, Lance pulled his pet into his grip with one arm. Oscar fell immediately into his chest, pawing at it before circling around to settle himself down more comfortably. Lance gazed down, petting the fluffy caramel-brown hair between his fingers as he pressed a kiss on the Australian's nose bridge.

"You're a good boy, Osc. A good pup." Lance paused, looking away from the chocolately love in Oscar's eyes to his own fingers. Fidgeting and flicking them around, he felt a certain paw mess with it. Lance felt a familiar pair of eyes look back up at him again.

"I'm just— sorry. Sorry for you. I just feel bad that, well, ya know. Lando, Carlos, or whoever, ruined your race today."

A high pitched whimper followed in agreement as the younger man laid his head against the chest of Canadian, opting to lay against the armrest as he waited for their other partner to come home. Oscar took in his partner's scent as he laid on his side, curled up in his arms. Faintly smelling like maple with hints of pecan pie. A cold Autumn breeze over the warmth of a thick cotton scarf.

"It wasn't your fault. I know your mind will tell you otherwise, but I won't. I know, I know..."

Oscar was more than upset about the earlier drama and results, but wouldn't be lying if he admitted that he couldn't care anymore. Fortunately fleeting away, then gone in the wind. Was almost like a near memory that he since brushed off once returning home.

Home where he could unwind, where he could be his true self. Where he could no longer worry about the race or any sort of grid drama. A home where he could be with physically, no matter where he went. Melbourne, Suzuka, Shanghai, Miami...

He was safe at home. Safe, secure, and warm. Home meant comfort, but it also meant security. Private, yet seeked fun. Home never judged him for letting his walls down, or anything else really. Home made him feel seen. Feel loved. Acknowledged.

Lance was home, Oscar's home. Nothing could change that. Nothing would. He wore dark green, but loving him was red.

And so were both of their cheeks currently, mutually flushed as they pressed against eachother. Lance wasn't sleeping, no, but he was surely entertaining himself as he watched Oscar try not to. Yet a peck to the cheek helped his senses kick in, as he giggled and licked at the Montrealer's face.

Smiles were exchanged once more, Lance couldn't help but keep playing with the silk of Oscar's hair. The younger man melted to the touch, rubbing against him in an attempt for more petting. His collar seemed to be a bit too tight for his skin, causing a noticeable red mark around his neck. He had his hands available, but seemed to prefer Lance's help.

"I just wish they came to some sense, ya know? Carlos, I mean. I— I don't understand him."

The Quebecker stood up, causing the reaction of his little spoon to do the same. Oscar fell to the floor. Knobby knees against the velvet carpet as he stayed on his fours. Lance stood to stretch, leaning down to pet the Aussie as he walked towards his temporary water bowl. Tapping the side twice, Oscar skittered across obediently. Lance's train of thought continued again as he leaned against the wall, watching Oscar lap up his water.

"There's always gonna be those types of people on the grid, the ones that want you gone. I've been through it, so has Esteban. Even Lewis." 

Oscar stayed put on the floor, sitting crissed-cross with his two front hands infront. Water ran from his face down his chin. A noticeable stain now soaking the collar of his papaya-orange polo. He turned his head to the side at Lance's words, whining an octave louder. Brown eyes staring.

"I know what it's like to constantly be compared to your teammate too. You— You have to survive with it in this sport, unfortunately."

Lance adjusted his posture, squatting on the floor before standing up on his knees. Unlike Oscar, he wobbled, only stabilizing himself with a hand behind him on the floor. He pat at his thigh, whistling as he locked eye contact with the Australian, before bringing him in a tight embrace.

"You don't deserve any of this, Butterscotch. None of this. I'm sorry."

The Canadian's grip seemed to fasten against Oscar's skinnier body like a death grip. As if he didn't want to let him go, or let him breathe. Oscar rested his head the broad of Lance's shoulder, hands splayed on his lover's back. He didn't know where else to leave them.

He felt Lance's hands curl into the caramel of his hair, like milkweed silk between his rough fingers. Oscar closed his eyes, huffing before shaking slightly. His breath stuttering as his chest heaved, feeling like the weight of several stones. Was he crying? He can't remember the last time he did that, especially over a race. Over Lando. Over Carlos. Over everything and anything. Lance hugged him tightly, shushing him as he felt cold tears stain his sweater.

A nearby phone on the coffee table began to ring. Lance's phone. Must've been Esteban. 

They let it play, ignoring the ringtone repeating before it eventually ended. They didn't need to move for the world, to wait for others. All Lance needed to do was pay attention to his puppy. His pet. His lover. His Oscie. 

It was his night. Oscar's night. It always was.

Atleast to Lance. Esteban too, but only one of them was present. That's all that mattered. Oscar had people that cared, spotlight or not. Race winner or not. Unruined race or not.

Before he knew it, the Australian felt lightheaded. And light. His sopping eyes opened once again as streams littered his face, his blurry vision turning around to notice he wasn't on the floor anymore. Lance was carrying him in his arms, bridal style now. It made Oscar feel small. Vulnerable. Safe. Too deep into headspace and his own insecurities to feel anything but like a puppy. 

Looking up, the younger man was met with dark brown eyes meeting his gaze. The Canadian nodded, allowing Oscar to use his sweater to wipe his tears. He pressed a kiss to the bridge of Oscar's nose again, before laying him in the marble of their hotel room's bathtub. His soft yet coarse hands made quick work of the leather collar around the Aussie's neck, rubbing the slight red it left behind. 

Mercy coated Lance's eyes, as he sighed yet still gave a gentle smile. His cheeks lightly budding pink like a bush of hibiscuses. Oscar turned his nose up, smiling back in a toothy grin that went up the corners of his face. Face redder than salmon roe. Lance gripped his delicate hands, bringing them to his lips for a kiss. His skin was soft like the rest of him, yet he smelled his strongest here. Like oranges and vanilla. 

Lance leaned against the tub, slowly taking off each of his dear's garments. Maybe Oscar had his hands available, but he was too deep into headspace to speak — let alone strip himself. The toffee of his eyes stayed locked onto the Quebecker, purring as he went limp. Even if Oscar could take care of himself, Lance knew he needed him now. And now was all that mattered.

At the final piece of clothing, Oscar's boxers, Lance paused. His hands moved up the pale of the Australian's body to cup his cheeks, moving his thumbs against them in a soothing motion. Lance looked down at him, gentle, serene. Oscar let him do anything, and he was glad he trusted him that much. Like a puppy to its owner. A vulnerable animal to its caretaker. He pressed one final kiss to his soft, pink lips. He tasted like sorbet, Lance's favorite.

They locked eyes once more before Lance's train of thought continued. His faint voice finding itself again.

"Let's— Let's get you cleaned up, Scotchie."

[s1utlvr]

Edits I need to see when season 2 of pjo comes out

Spoilers for Sea of Monsters obvi

1) An edit to getaway car when the grey sisters are taking annabeth Percy and Tyson back to camp

2) An edit of Annabeth to pride by Kendrick Lamar when she finds out her fatal flaw

3) this is my inner theatre kid coming out but an edit of clarisse to guns and ships or right hand man from Hamilton when she goes to rescue the trio in the confederate ship with the canons and stuff

4) An edit of clarisse and ares to every single sad Taylor swift song ever (tolerate it, exile You get it)

5) an edit of Percy and annabeth to over the chemtrails under the country club when their like trying to provoke the cyclops and they’re like I’m nobody no im nobody (nobody’s son nobody’s daughter…..get it? No….?) but on a serious note them to cotcc when he is holding her after the siren thing

6) an edit to speak now when the cyclops announces he’s gonna marry clarisse and cook Grover instead (“horrified looks from everyone in the room”)

7) an edit to work by iggy azailia when the group is essentially stranded in Miami (“No money no family 16 in the middle of Miami”)

[ooooshetriesss]

Announcement/Update Cat parents of MALE CATS SPECIFICALLY! If their under 8 &/or u’ve yet to learn about ‘the possibility of obstruction (something that CAN & WILL happen to certain genetically predisposed cats; swap them to wet food for their safety & PLEASE READ)

Hey guys💔 Todays rope had to be canceled. I had to rush one of my boys to ER. It was pretty serious, pretty scary & after 2 days I was finally able to bring him home but, I’m gonna have to keep an eye on him.Because of his size & the meds he needed; they hit him heavy so, he needs help going to the bathroom & using the water bowl.

Thank you to everyone whose reached out via IG as this was going down; if I didn’t get back to you, my apologies; it’s been a bit hectic but Im sincerely grateful for everyone’s concern.

IF U HAVE MALE CATS; SWAP THEM TO WET FOOD FOR THEIR SAFETY if u wanna spare a 1k vet bill,

(I was so shocked to hear both the vet & a lot of my fellow cat owners say “yeah it’s common, most ppl just don’t find out their cats intolerant till the worst happens; & because cats mask so well; at that point, it can truly be serious…)

I know Miami is densely populated but not everyone is 10 mins away from a vet. Also times are tough; I cannot stomach the idea of someone losing their cat cause they didn’t have 1000$ on standby (which who the fk has that these days)

I want to make this last part exceptionally clear..,

I am someone who has had a job since before I was legally allowed to obtain one… I’m one of millions of Americans who couldn’t afford college nor qualify for financial aid… I have worked to the BONE In everything from service industry, to blue collar, to maintenance(both in terms of house keeping & even assembling & maintenance of salt water aquariums..was even a groutsmith) like most Americans, I’ve never had insurance & lived paycheck to paycheck + have made just enough to get by since I was 15.

I didn’t have ‘luxurious purchases’ I had medical bills I couldn’t even afford a regular minimum payment on… I didn’t save for ‘exuberant trips’ … I saved to get a weeks worth of groceries…

I never bought a car..: but some days I spent just as much as I made just to get to work ..(& while the men were praised for riding their bikes & showing “that type of initiative…” I was berated for showing up to work “in such a condition” “It doesn’t matter u come in early /before we open to “fix urself up”

When YOU WALK IN THRU THAT DOOR, U WALK/TALK/COME IN LIKE UR ALREADY ON THE CLOCK… U SHOULD BE COMING IN EARLY ANYWAY (just for them to yell at u for actually coming in early)

The ONLY REASON, I (someone who would literally run into a burning building & d*e for their animals; for animals who weren’t even mine) someone who would miss meals so they could eat THE best food…someone who LOVES & is DEDICATED to their creatures, who would do ANYTHING for them, & MOST importantly..

Someone who was DUMB/NAIVE ENOUGH to be ‘the hardest worker in the room for souless companies/selfish ppl for 30+ yrs was ONLY CAPABLE of getting my baby THAT care NOT because of a “traditional (what yall call ‘honest days work’) IT WAS BECAUSE OF WHAT IS CONSIDERED SW. full fucking stop.

& because I had a women who had both a virtually non interest credit card AND my back♥️ (I’ve told u once, I’ll say it again; Grandmas a gangster)

I know SM likes to frame SW as an option for women who “don’t feel like working/ want expensive luxuries things & are looking for a free ride..”

What we’re lookin for is a career that allows us to still man the ship the way we need to, we’ve been expected to..

It allows us not just means for survival, but the capacity to do so WHILE we continue to be the caretakers of our family & (for some particularly exceptional women) the caretakers of our community…

I wanna make it SO clear this is NOT A DIG to ANYONE, ESPECIALLY the vet& staff that helped us & are appreciated SOOO DEEPLY. These are ppl who are overwhelmed, burnt out like the rest of us, expect unlike nurses, they usually aren’t given a 1/4 of the respect other medical professionals are. PLEASE be kind to them. (I know it’s difficult when emotions are high)

But while this was not my regular content, I know ALOT animal lovers on here… times are tough, there only gonnna get tougher… information is invaluable..

1 week before this happened; 1 woman made a video sharing how she JUST lost her MALE CAT (due to this)

Because of THAT video, I was aware this could even happen…

Because of a incredible vet & her team who TRUSTED me when I said “I will figure out the money, u have my WORD” my boy is safe & while expensive; they made it as affordable as possible…

And because of another woman who had my back w/a piece of plastic at the drop of a hat, I was able to bring him home.

And because of some incredible supporters & community like yall who like my content & share it, push it into the algo, find me on other platforms s & interact, even if they can’t financially contribute.. because of being lucky enough to be supported; I was able to make that happen for my boy. Every single variable is what came together to keep him here today & my heart… can’t even think of how to properly thank you all.

The community looked out for me.. & while this post may be all I have to give back ATM.. it’s what I got..

MALE CATS=WET FOOD TO BE SAFE!!!

(Also, CONSTANT FRESH WATER SOURCE BOTH BY & away from their food ; by their food so they have some to access while eating & some away so it stays fresh & can help them pass more easily.)

Love u guys xoxoxo.

We’ll be resuming to our regular scheduled content next week lol

Till then, xoxoox - hummingbird + ‘Fil’ @ooooshetriesss