#someone in seattle

[wanderingblindly]

Someone in Seattle (Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri, 11.6k words, oneshot)

“Could I, like… would you be my model for it? Maybe?” “That’s what the coffee was for then?” “No, that was, uh.” He can feel his face heating up, skin undeniably turning a deeper shade of red under Lando’s gaze – mirthful and a little something else. “That was different.” “Gonna say what?” “No.”

READ HERE!

Started this ages ago when I was sick, finally got around to forcing it to completion. To quote myself in discord: I'm going to pry this fic from my cold dead hands.

Answering the age old question: Fellas, is it gay to fall in love with your muse?

[remy]

Lord I see what you have done for others. Get me out of this state !

Me and my boyfriend (butch) are finally leaving Texas for Washington in June, we have everything planned out but we desperately need funding to secure housing once we get up there, and money for the 3000 mile drive from here to there

Please reblog and share!

[rickeajacksons]

[againstthegrainphoto]

#dunnernlars👬

[jareaul0ver]

she is so gf it hurts i want her so bad

[nivellesart]

A Buddie AU inspired by Sleepless in Seattle for the @summerofbuddie week 2 prompt Romcoms

It's Buck's first shift since Abby left him at the airport, when he hears a kid talk about his dad being alone on the radio. Eddie is in the middle of trying to figure out his and Christopher's life after Shannon left them. Talking about his problems has never been an option for him to even consider, especially not on the radio. But it's not like he can say no to Chris yet again today. And if it means Chris will go to bed without any further argument, then Eddie will even talk about the mess that is his life on the radio.

[owcaunion]

Agent P, Agent P, and Agent P

[wolfbandits]

there’s nothing like winning in The Deep 🦑🌊 | JDac35 on X

[starshipoftheseus]

10.26.24 (SEA vs CAR): we slidin

[breannastewart]

an endless amount of sue bird gifsets 1/??

[outofcontextdanandphil]

Phil please behave 2 (v - a)

[wanderingblindly]

From the ask game: flip flop with any scene from the Seattle/photography fic? Or maybe when they first met? I’d love to read what Lando’s feelings were at that moment lmao

- CX

(ask game) (original fic)

I’m cutting myself off before I rewrite the entire thing what the fuck hahahahahha

“They didn’t even bring tabs!” George flails in his enthusiasm; Lando’s arms loosely tossed around his shoulder, leaning against him from his perch on the counter, and lets himself be jostled.

“They’re babies, mate, they not gonna —”

“I knew to bring tabs for the syllabus back then, so —”

Alex takes a swig of his shitty beer. “Thank god we’re not all like you, Georgie.”

“Rude.”

Lando’s used to feeling eyes on him. Like long grass grazing his ankles, it used to draw his attention; but now it’s merely a passing fact, white noise in his life that fades until it’s nothing.

And yet — half listening to Alex and George bicker, half enjoying the safety of their closeness — he feels them. Buzzing on his skin, sharper than the grass he knows, he feels them.

Over George’s tirade, he hears him before he sees him: “Yeah, uh, yeah. Thanks for having us.”

Lando looks over towards the kitchen door, catching the strangers eyes with ease — a ball to a waiting glove. They’re already a little unfocused, shoulders tilted crookedly; he’s already pretty far gone, grabbing a seltzer off the table for something to do.

His eyes leave him as fast as he found him; and yet they want to draw back.

“Didn’t even bring a pencil to class today,” Lando chips in, feeling George’s tense under his arms.

“Mate,” Alex says, letting himself lean against the kitchen wall with an exasperated smile. “Gonna get him going,”

“Why can’t you take anything seriously,” George starts, shifting to drop Lando’s arms and look at him fully.

“Don’t remember you being my TA,” He smiles, focusing on Alex’s resulting giggles. “When’d you switch to psych?”

George stutters out a response, somehow sounding drunker the more worked up Lando gets him. It makes him smile, warmth building in his stomach as he takes in how much he loves them, but a small part of his mind lingers by the kitchen island. Lingers on the glimmer of red cheeks and drunken staring he saw there.

---

He’s met her once or twice, maybe had a seminar together or something. Or maybe she works at one of the libraries, one of the cafes just outside. He can’t really remember, leaning back on the couch, jaw cupped in his hand, and listening. She’s nice enough, bubbly enough to fill the gap left by George and Alex sneaking away to do what the do in private.

They don’t think he knows, but he obviously put that together a while back. Maybe they’ll put their heads together and realize they’re in love one of these days; the thought makes Lando smile, her cheeks turning a distinctly inebriated sort of splotchy red. Flustered.

His eyes flick to the other side of the room.

He’s still watching, that boy whose flush looks more like soft candy floss than red ink. Pressed against the wall, clearly the wrong side of tipsy, and staring. It gives him a moment of pause, the glassy sheen to his eyes almost like a tourist gazing up at the Winged Victory — so different than usual; reverent rather than rapacious.

“And so then I was like, ‘Carrie, you can’t just say that about a person!’ You know? Like, so uncalled for,” She scoffs, edges tinged with a giggle, and draws Lando back down to earth. He laughs along, mind elsewhere.

He doesn’t like being stared at, the feeling of being more a fixation than a person. And yet.

He sees the man slip out of the room, forgetting to close the front door against the crisp spring air.

---

Bit excessive, Lando thinks as he steps out onto the porch. Sitting out in the dark all alone, even for a quieter guy, it’s just. Lando lingers on the edges of the porch light, suddenly unsure about the entire thing.

Maybe he made it up, that brief moment of distinction in the living room.

He walks up to him anyways, slipping into the second rocking chair like it’s second nature. And he waits, tucking up his feet to make himself comfortable, sparing a glance at his new neighbor.

Soft nose, soft cheeks, sharp jaw, all painted rosey in the dark. It’s started to run down his neck, flooded up to dust his ears. It’s precious, Lando smiled a little, watching him breathe so deeply while clearly struggling to keep it together. Reminds him a bit of George when they fist met, too sharp and too soft and bleeding at the edges.

“Bit sick?”

He jumps, Lando winces. Not his smoothest start. But the man looks at him, and Lando wishes — without meaning to — that it was daylight.

“Already looked pretty sloshed in the kitchen,” He shifts, making himself more comfortable. “Go too hard at the pre?”

The silences stretches between them. Normally, Lando would give up and go talk to someone else — conversations soaked in beer and seltzer don’t really matter, anyways. But he doesn’t want to.

He raises a brow. “Gonna say something?”

“I’m, uh. Oscar.” Lando smiles a little; he looks like an Oscar, somehow. In the roundness of his nose and the lilt of his accent, he’s an Oscar.

“Lando.”

“Weird name.” His eyes blow wide as he says it, and Lando doesn’t bristle like he normally would. It’s almost… endearing. Like a cat that scared itself with its own tail.

Instead, he laughs. And he means it. “Yeah, get that a lot.”

The breeze is biting, but Oscar’s gaze — fixated and definitely a little awkward — is warm. He shivers at them both.

“Are you… cold?” He stumbles over the words, their earnestness driving into Lando’s ribs like a knife.

George would have reminded him that he should have brought a jacket. “Nah, I’m fine,” He nuzzles his nose into his elbow, waiting to get used to it. He could just go inside, he doesn’t really *have* to be —

“No, it’s. Erm.” Oscar pitches forward in the rocking chair, nearly tumbling out of it. It would be hilarious if Lando didn’t realize what he was doing, clumsy fingers trying to grab the bottom of his sweatshirt, struggling to pull it over his head.

His shirt lifts a bit in the process, exposing the skin just above his jeans — the unexpected line of his abs. Lando’s eyes snap away when Oscar finally gets his head unstuck, holding the sweatshirt out between them.

His hair’s a rumpled mess, eyes trained on Lando’s face with a sort of… fevered servitude.

“Here.” He breathes, and Lando notices that his shirt is crooked from the ordeal. It looks like he just woke up, disheveled by his sheets.

Lando feels his face run hot as he gingerly grabs the sweatshirt, warm and soft and well-loved in his hands.

“I — yeah, thanks.” He gets on, unable to look away from Oscar’s… everything. Putting it on feels like some sort of promise, heart skipping a beat when the sleeves fall beyond his one fingers.

But maybe it’s nothing. Oscar’s eyes, his sweatshirt.

Maybe it’s just the spring air.

“What’s your major?”

Oscar smiles, and Lando realizes it: he’s fucked.

[miketownsends]

i simply do not think there is another catcher out there who is as good with their pitching staff as Cal is!

(put the full article link in the source bc Tumblr was being weird about the link)

[ikealamps]

….hold on…..so z fell, crosschecked tanev, then proceeded to call him a cocksucker??? during their fucking pride night??? and then broke their camera in the penalty box?? FUCK OFF

[jarofalicesgrunge]

Mike Inez And Jerry Cantrell - Alice In Chains

[deceptionpasses]

‘24-'25 Seattle Kraken Roster profiles featuring the salmon plush photoshoot | (1, 2, 3)