unremarkableyaks

[unremarkableyaks]

just saw a tiktok of a mum who was struggling to discipline her toddler because he was too cute and don’t ask me why but it reminded me of little Oscar 🤣

lolol. this had given me thoughts:

Daniel hadn’t expected the outburst. Oscar’s usually pretty calm and quiet when he plays, especially with the train set he had picked out himself.

Not today though, apparently, because one of the wagons just nearly hit Daniel in the face.

It’s pulled his attention from his phone towards the boy with a look of surprise, watches Oscar’s eyes shoot daggers at the piece of plastic across the room, arms crossed over his chest, cheeks flushed.

He looks utterly adorable, like a cross kitten if you will, but Daniel knows he cannot let that go.

“Oscar, sweetheart.” Daniel hums, putting his phone down. “Trains are not for throwing, baby. Can you pick that up please and put it where it belongs?”

“No.” Oscar’s answer is short and immediate, frustration clear in his tone.

Daniel sighs softly, straightening a bit. “Oscar,” he says again, a bit firmer this time. “Please go pick it up.”

Oscar’s glare shifts from the piece of plastic to Daniel, and while the boy probably thinks he’s being very intimidating, all it does is make Daniel want to coo. “No.” The glare is accompanied by an impressive pout.

God damnit, Carlos had always been better at the whole discipline thing.

Daniel takes a breath. “One,” he says, mostly because he needs time to think about how to handle this.

Oscar doesn’t flinch, maintains eye contact even, the little shit.

Daniel waits longer than a second, mentally preparing himself for a possible tantrum before continuing. “Two.”

Oscar’s scowl grows, lips jutting out into an even deeper pout, arms crossing tighter around him with a huff. “No no no no, no!” The way Oscar shakes his head makes his hair bounce and it’s utterly adorable. Daniel thinks about banishing scissors so no one will ever be able to cut it.

Except there’s no time to think about that, he’s got world’s most adorable toddler throwing a tantrum to deal with.

“Oscar,” he warns gently.

Oscar doesn’t budge.

“Three,” Daniel says, a little sad, as he pushed himself up from the couch.

The power of three never fails to amaze Daniel, because suddenly Oscar is scrambling up from the carpet, already making his way over to his throw victim while blurting out a different tone of “No no!”

Daniel halts, watches Oscar snatch the wagon up before turning to face Daniel again. “No I don’t wanna …” he trails off then, realizing Daniel never actually gave him a consequence of what would happen after he got to three and promptly bursts out into tears.

“Oh, buddy.” Daniel sighs gently, stepping forward. “Danny hold you?”

With Oscar, he usually always asks.

There’s no doubt Oscar wants to be touched though, because he sort of flings himself at Daniel, wagon clutched into his hand as Daniel hoists him up, already humming some soothing noises as he gently rocks the boy as they move back to the couch.

“Shhh,” he hums, fitting Oscar in his lap as he sits back down, his fingers gently going up and down his spine. “We’re gonna be quiet for a bit together, ok? You can cry, sweetheart.”

He’s always been a fan of implementing these time out adjacent quiet time sessions with the boys when he feels they need a moment to calm down but it doesn’t feel beneficial to actually put them in time out where he can’t hold them.

He checks his watch and decides of 5 minutes of no speaking, just gentle soothing noises and soft touches before he speaks again, pressing a soft kiss onto Oscar’s hair.

The crying has quieted down to sniffles, one hand still clutching the train while the other has fisted into Daniel’s jumper.

“Those are some big feelings, huh buddy?”

Oscar nods, a sas hiccupy sniffle leaving him.

“You wanna talk about them?”

Oscar pouts, reluctantly letting go of Daniel’s jumper to wipe at his eyes before looking up at Daniel.

“Dandy,”

It comes out sort of whiny and the nickname pulls a smile out of the elder.

“Yes, bub?”

“The train wasn’t clicking.”

Oscar holds up the little wagon, before pointing an accusatory finger in the direction of the rest of the train set.

“It wasn’t clicking?” Daniel hums, brushing a hand through Oscar’s lock. “Was that frustrating, baby?”

Oscar nods, lips jutting out into another pout.

“Did throwing the wagon fix it?”

Oscar sighs softly, eyes looking down. “No.” He whispers.

Daniel smiles encouragingly, hand brushing past Oscar’s cheek. “Can you think of something you could’ve done to help you with fixing it?”

Another big sigh leaves Oscar. “Ask you.” He mumbles, looking up at Daniel again.

“Me?” Daniel gasps, brushing at Oscar’s wet cheeks. “You think silly old me can fix the train?!”

The ridiculous tone Daniel has taken on pulls a soft giggle from the boy. “Yes you!”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Daniel praises, gently lowering Oscar from his lap. “Let’s go try together.”

[unremarkableyaks]

the biggest crime of f1 ao3 is how dry the autistic max tag is

[unremarkableyaks]

max wins his fourth championship

red bull turkey dinosaurs au, 1560 words

The moment Gianpiero sees Max’s crinkly-eyed smile and fluffy hair plastered across every TV screen in the paddock, he knows Max is going to drop. Maybe not yet, but soon. It’s obvious to GP now, especially because he’s had 4 years to start recognising the signs.

Max has dropped after every championship win. GP doesn’t know if it’s the relief of finally claiming the title, or Max allowing himself to celebrate exactly how he wants to, but either way, the team love celebrating with the little guy. There is nothing better than his unbridled childlike wonder and squawking giggles filling the garage after a win.

“You’re going with Max,” Christian tells him, he’s sat a couple of seats down on the pit wall – his headphones still on after congratulating Max.

“Am I?” GP asks, surprised. Max won the title, but he only placed P5 - he’s not going on the podium. Why would GP be going with Max?

“There’s a car ride to the Bellagio,” Christian says, then softens his eyes and insists. “You go with him in the car.”

He gets it now. Christian is worried Max will drop too soon, and if he does then GP needs to be there with him. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

The walk to Parc Ferme is chaos. There are bodies everywhere. The pit lane is full of people celebrating, mechanics trying to get to their cars, photographers, journalists, and paddock club members swarming. But he makes it through.

The moment he sees Max, he starts running. His driver has just won their fourth championship in a row and he can’t wait to throw his arms around Max. They knew the win was a possibility today, but GP didn’t think it would happen, especially not with a DIY rear wing. But Max always surprises him.

“You were amazing!” GP screams as he gets close enough for Max to hear him. He acts on impulse, maybe because Max looked so soft on the TV footage, or maybe because GP can feel how much Max needs a hug. Either way, before he knows it he’s bending down and lifting Max up like he does when Max is small, holding him so tightly as Max giggles loudly.

“You did exactly what you needed to, mate!” GP says, “You knew who our race was with and you made it happen.”

“Only P5,” Max says, shrugging, as GP puts his feet back on the floor. GP hates how hard Max is on himself sometimes, even with a championship win today Max considers P5 the fourth loser.

“It was the best we could have got from the car today, Max.” GP affirms, “More than the car deserved actually.”

Max smiles, cheeks turning a little pink with the praise.

“My world champ!” GP says, refocusing Max on the huge positive. He puts a hand on Max’s shoulder and shakes him a little, so damn proud.

They’re ushered into an obnoxious Rolls Royce with fairy lights on the ceiling and far too many buttons that Max immediately starts pressing.

“Look,” Max says, shyly indicating what each button does.

“Yeah, cool isn’t it?” GP replies, going along with it. He suspects Max has already started to drop, usually Max isn’t so enamoured by buttons.

“Jeep, I won,” Max whispers. Maybe the microphones can pick it up and GP will have a new nickname in the paddock tomorrow, or maybe they can’t and the name Jeep will still be reserved for only Max to call him – it doesn’t matter either way.

GP looks over to Max, leans back in his seat, and smiles fondly, “Yes, you did. How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty,” Max says.

GP hands him his water bottle, filled with a fruity electrolyte drink, the long bendy straw is tied up so GP unties it and hands Max the mouthpiece.

“Tank you,” Max says through his slow sips.

The next few hours are full on, but GP stays close to Max, making sure Max doesn’t drop too deep. He ends up lingering just outside of the TV pen, following Max to each interview, and standing next to him in the group photo.

“Jeep,” Max whines, after the team has thoroughly drenched him in red bull and champagne. He’s tugging on the sleeve of GP’s jacket rather insistently, trying to drag him back towards the hospitality building.

GP knows immediately that Max has dropped fully, that he’s probably around 3 or 4 years old now mentally.

“What is it, Maxy?” GP asks gently, “What do you need?”

“Sticky.” Max flaps his arms. “No no no.”

GP nods, he leans down and scoops Max up onto his shoulder. A fireman’s carry. One that doesn’t look immediately strange if there are any photos of this online.

“Come on then, time to get the world champion in the shower!” GP laughs, running towards the building.

“No Jeep!” Max squeals, “No shower! BAFF!”

So, a bath it is then.

Rupert, almost magically, has the blow-up bathtub ready for Max when they get back to his driver’s room. There are lots of bubbles and three rubber ducks floating on the top, a daddy, a mummy, and a baby duck. Max’s little duck family travel to every race with them.

“Well done, buddy,” Rupert says when they barge into the room. He takes Max from GP, holding him on his hip and giving him a quick bounce. “We are so proud of you.”

Max nuzzles into Rupert’s neck.

“Rupy, baff,” Max points. “Sticky.”

GP and Rupert work together to get Max out of his clothes, he’s got so many layers on to combat the cold Vegas night. They both chucklenwhen they pull off one sock and then there’s another one right underneath.

Eventually, once Max is free of all clothes and socks, GP lifts him into the tub.

He splishes splashes, happily babbling to his ducks.

“You going to call Dan?” Rupert asks quietly. The elephant in every room. Daniel isn’t here. Nobody can blame him, either.

GP nods. “Yeah, I was waiting for a quiet moment alone. I think it would have been too much for Max earlier, he would have dropped deep in front of everyone, and that’s not fair to him or Daniel.”

“Yeah,” Rupert agrees. “I’ll leave you guys to it while you call him, don’t worry about the bath, I’ll clean up in here when you’re done.”

Rupert gives Maxy a quick kiss on the head, and Maxy brings baby duck up to peck at Rupert’s cheek. “Bye Rupy!”

It makes GP’s heart swell, how lovely and innocent this version of Max is. How sweet and kind. How delicate.

“Maxy, shall we call Daddy now?”

Maxy looks at him with huge, adoring blue eyes, nodding desperately.

“Ok,” GP says, calling Daniel on FaceTime.

He hands Max the phone as it’s ringing.

“Try not to drop my phone in the bath, Maxy,” GP tells him, “Do safe hands, okay?”

Max is just about to reply when Daniel answers, and the screen fills with his big smile.

“Daddy!” Maxy beams, flapping a little. Daniel probably can’t see him very well.

“Oh, baby,” Daniel says, eyes wet. “You’re small already?”

Max nods, bringing his baby duck up towards the camera to peck and kiss at the phone screen. GP has to look away, it’s so sweet that it feels like it should be a private moment between the two of them.

“You were so good today, baby.” Daniel sobs, “You won and I am so proud of you.”

Max nods again, happy, but GP can tell it’s not the championship he’s happy about now. He’s happy because he’s talking to his Daddy.

“When Daddy come?” Max pouts. “Daddy, what about my night night bottle? And story time?”

“I am coming, baby,” Daniel says, panning the camera around to show Max the airport lounge he is sitting in. “I am coming to give you your bottle and a really big cuddle. Is that okay?”

“Yes!” Max splashes in excitement, and GP worries about his phone.

“Okay, Daddy will be there in two hours,” Daniel tells him, “I’m coming, Maxy.”

GP watches as Max babbles and giggles on the phone to Daniel until eventually Max’s eyes droop a little and Daniel has to get on the plane.

“Alright Maxy, tell Daddy you’ll see him very soon,” GP says, prompting Max to start saying his goodbyes. “See you soon, Dan!”

“Bye Daddy,” Maxy yawns, “See you soon.”

Once GP has hung up the call, and his phone is back to safety on the dry desk, he begins to lift Max out of the bath.

Getting him dry is always a challenge. Max twists and turns to avoid the towel as it tickles his tummy, and he absolutely does not let anyone near his ears so GP has to be extra careful when drying his hair. But eventually, Max is dry and in his pyjamas, a footed onesie with dinosaurs on it.

“Very handsome,” GP says, kissing his forehead as he lifts Max up and onto his hip. “Shall we go and see the mechanics before Daddy gets here? I know they’ll want to see you.”

“Okay,” Max says softly, laying his head on GP’s shoulder.

Max is asleep before they are even out the door of his driver’s room, but that’s okay, GP has him.

[unremarkableyaks]

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

[unremarkableyaks]

"after someone falls the most important person in the competition is ther person competing after them" so we're just saying anything now

[unremarkableyaks]

It doesn't matter how many times i see it every time a gymnast misses her hands on a high bar release i gasp like i'm the one falling

[unremarkableyaks]

there should be a picture of tim daggett underneath the dictionary entry for 'inexplicable beef'.

literally the only thing I remember from Katelyn Jong's elite career was Tim Daggett having weird inexplicable beef with her at her debut senior nationals

[unremarkableyaks]

"i think it's gonna be really tough to get a 10 now" IT FUCKING SHOULD BE

[unremarkableyaks]

tucked vaults are so uggo I fear

[unremarkableyaks]

anyone else feel like arkansas have particularly strong handstands on bars?? like there were several who held them so well and the couple people who had mistakes had the strength/endurance to save them and recover

[unremarkableyaks]

[unremarkableyaks]

hello!

I recently found your maxy's farm series on ao3 and I've been completely obsessed with it!! I LOVE little Maxy and his Daddy and his uncles!! Its just so sweet and so nice!! You've built such an interesting universe, even if we only see it at the farm (which is also amazing, love when you mention all the animals and the work the gang does there)

thank you so much for writing maxy's farm!! it's very dear to me!

Hi!!!! Thank you so much this is so lovely 😭😭😭 I was so nervous about not anonymising maxy's farm in case people were mean but everyone has been so lovely.

Hope you have the best day ❤️❤️❤️

[unremarkableyaks]

10 Landoscar

body worship for landoscar! this is unabashed small dick worship 🥰 (for the kink prompt asks)

“Oh,” Lando breathes, eyes fixed on Oscar’s dick.

Oscar flushes, has to shove his hands under his thighs to stop himself from covering it. He knows how it looks, his dick almost comically small between his thick thighs, resting on the neat little package of his balls. He wonders if Lando thinks he’s soft. It’s happened before with girls and it’s—yeah. It’s not Oscar’s favorite thing in the world, having to break the news that this is all there is.

“You don’t—you can be mean about it, if you want,” Oscar says flatly, staring at a point above Lando’s head. It’s better when he doesn’t look at their faces, when he doesn’t have to see the barely-disguised disappointment.

At the edge of his vision, he sees Lando’s brows furrow, nose scrunching. “Why would I be mean about it?” Lando asks.

“It’s just—” Oscar takes a shaky breath and tips his head back, trying to exist somewhere outside of his body. “Some people, uh, enjoy that sort of thing.” He feels pressure building behind his eyes and squeezes them shut. “All it’s good for, anyways,” he grits out.

Oscar feels a palm on his thigh, a thumb brushing over his skin. Lando’s familiar voice saying, “Osc.”

Oscar forces himself to open his eyes. Lando’s staring up at him, something that looks like—like pity on Lando’s face. And that’s worse Oscar thinks, worse than if Lando was just fucking mean about it.

Oscar yanks a hand out from under his thighs, meaning to cover his dick, tell Lando to get the fuck out of his hotel room, Maybe find some bloke on Grindr and send him pictures of his dick instead, have him tell him how fucking tiny it is, how useless, how embarrassing. Shove his face into a pillow and rub himself off against the sheets until he’s crying.

But Lando catches Oscar’s wrist before Oscar can hide himself.

“Osc,” Lando says, voice soft. The nickname in this context makes Oscar want to sob. “Do you want me to be mean about it?” Lando asks.

Oscar doesn’t know what he wants. He gets off when people are mean about it, but it never makes him feel good, exactly. Makes him feel sort of used and gross, a tight knot of shame settling in the pit of his stomach.

But it’s either that or having people ignore his dick entirely and he fucking hates that, makes him feel even worse, like it’s so humiliating people can’t even look at it straight on. When he asks people to be mean about it, it sort of feels like he’s in on the joke. Like he’s acknowledging how embarrassing it is before someone else can do it without his permission.

It’s always—there’s never been any other option.

“What if I wanted to be nice about it?” Lando asks.

Oscar barks out a laugh. It feels like Lando’s making fun of him, like Lando has to be taking the piss. There’s nothing—what’s there to be nice about?

But Lando’s looking up at him, his expression devastatingly earnest, like he doesn’t understand why Oscar’s laughing, and Oscar realizes he’s serious.

“If you’re doing this because you, like, pity me or something,” Oscar says, cringing when his voice shakes like he’s about to cry, “I don’t—not really interested in that, mate.”

“No, it’s not—” Lando trails off, eyes cutting away. He sucks his lower lip between his teeth, the tender skin underneath his eyes flushing pink. But he flashes his eyes up to Oscar’s again and says, “It’s ‘cause, like, I think it’s hot.”

Oscar hears himself make an awful sound, something that could probably be called a whimper.

Lando’s flush deepens. When Oscar glances down at Lando’s briefs, he’s stunned to see Lando’s hard. That Lando’s maybe telling the truth. That maybe he—

Oscar’s gone slightly soft from the stress of their conversation, but the realization that Lando likes it has Oscar’s dick hardening, a bead of wetness forming at the tip.

“Jesus,” Lando groans. He’s staring right at Oscar’s dick and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s imagining— “Can I?” Lando whispers, staring openly at Oscar’s dick. “Osc, please, let me—” He trails off, eyes flicking up to Oscar’s, and he looks—he looks fucking desperate. Like he might die if Oscar tells him no.

Oscar doesn’t want to tell him no.

“Yeah,” Oscar says shakily, spreading his thighs. “Yeah, I—yeah.”

Lando doesn’t say anything more, just moans and leans forward, dragging his tongue over the head of Oscar’s dick, eyes fluttering as he licks up the wetness there.

Oscar thinks for a moment that he might come just from that, just from the shock of seeing the blissed-out expression Lando gets when he tastes Oscar’s pre-come. But he manages to hang on, manages to watch Lando wrap his lips around Oscar’s cock and suck, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck,” Oscar gasps, hands curling into fists, nails digging into his palms. “Fuck, that’s—”

Lando moans and drags his tongue over the head of Oscar’s dick while he sucks, and it’s—Oscar feels like he’s shaking out of his skin, like he’s having his dick sucked for the first time. Plenty of people have sucked his dick before, but no one’s ever looked like Lando, like they’re having a fucking religious experience or something.

“Christ, Lando,” Oscar moans. He can’t look away, feels like he’s trying to commit the sight of Lando on his knees to memory, like he wants to take a picture of it, look at it every time he feels nauseous at the sight of his little dick.

Lando’s hand’s still wrapped around Oscar’s wrist and Lando tugs Oscar’s hand to his hair, letting out a content hum when Oscar slides his fingers into Lando’s curls, Lando’s eyes sliding half-shut as he licks and sucks at Oscar’s cock. Lando stuffs his newly-free hand down his briefs, stroking himself rough and fast, moaning desperately around Oscar’s cock.

“Oh my god,” Oscar groans, fingers tightening in Lando’s hair, pushing a whimper out of Lando. “You like it.”

Lando whines, nods. He’s looking up at Oscar with hazy eyes, hips fucking forward into his hand, and he’s dragging his tongue over the head of Oscar’s dick, over and over again, flat, firm pressure that has Oscar grinding against Lando’s mouth, moaning and spilling pre-come against Lando’s tongue.

After a while, Lando’s technique gets sloppy and desperate, panting against Oscar’s dick as he fucks frantically into his fist. Oscar wishes he could see it, wishes he could see how fucking hard Lando is, but Oscar doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Lando’s coming with a breathy moan, staring up at Oscar with a dazed expression, the fabric of his briefs darkening as he spills in them.

“Jesus, Lando,” Oscar gasps. “Jesus, that’s so fucking—” And then Oscar’s coming with a moan, spilling across Lando’s tongue, thighs shaking, cock twitching in Lando’s mouth. Lando swallows it all, letting out these high, pitchy whines, looking up at Oscar like he’d be content to stay on his knees forever, like he’d be happy to have Oscar’s dick in his mouth for as long as Oscar wanted, and the thought’s enough to have Oscar spilling a little more into Lando’s mouth.

Lando keeps Oscar’s dick in his mouth even after Oscar’s finished coming, just blinking dazedly up at Oscar, hand still stuffed down his briefs.

“God,” Oscar says, breathless. “That’s—you’re, uh, good at that.”

Lando lets Oscar’s dick slip out of his mouth and the sight of it, tiny and spent, doesn’t bother Oscar nearly as much as it normally does.

“I meant it,” Lando says. His voice’s rough, almost like he’s had his throat fucked, and the thought has Oscar’s cock twitching painfully.

"Meant it when I said s'hot," Lando says, and leans forward to plant a soft kiss to Oscar's dick.

Oscar doesn't say anything, can't say anything with how choked up he is, but he cards his hand through Lando's hair, forcing himself to stay still as Lando nuzzles his face against Oscar's sensitive dick. Forces himself not to pull away when Lando starts licking at his half-hard cock, coaxing it back to full hardness before Oscar's really ready for it.

He reckons he'd let Lando do anything to him, come as many times as Lando wanted him to, if it meant he could feel like this—safe and secure and wanted. So fucking wanted, he thinks, as Lando wraps his lips around Oscar's little dick. Oscar still doesn't like his dick, but like this, with Lando's mouth on him, Lando's soft eyes blinking up at him, Lando's hands gripping his hips, tugging him closer, urging him deeper, Oscar realizes Lando likes it.

Maybe, Oscar thinks as he grinds against Lando's tongue, Lando can like it enough for the both of them.

[unremarkableyaks]

i would love to read rupert meeting little max and learning max's post race routine or how he likes his stuff set up. daniel or gp are there but rupert is also an important caregiver for max and they have to trust each other!

such a fun thing to think about! i think a lot of planning goes into it initially. Rupert has a talk with Max himself first, then Daniel and Max, then GP and Max before deciding he should probably get some… experience. if you will.

Daniel does the Saturday with them, gets Rupert familiar with Max’s nap times and comfort items, tells him where to find what, what snacks Max likes and triple checks Rupert has his phone number.

Sunday’s too busy for Daniel so GP’s with him that day and after the race they go over it again.

Max is sat curled up on the floor, one of his arms curled around GP’s legs as his head rests on his knee, flushed cheeks making his eyes look more blue as he stares up at Rupert, drinking his juice box.

“He doesn’t always drop after a race, something to keep an eye out for especially if he’s still having to face media. Regardless of a drop he usually likes his juice, don’t you buddy?” GP hums softly, the hand resting atop Max’s head gently scratching the blonde mop of helmet hair.

He gets an affirmative noise followed by a nod.

“Right, noted. Stock up on those.” Rupert smiles lightly.

“Daniel has a year supply I’m pretty sure. We should be okay.”

Max’s head perks up at Daniel’s name, glancing over at the door before looking up at GP. “Daddy?”

“Soon, buddy.” GP soothes gently, resuming his gentle head pats as Max relaxes back against him.

“He’ll ask for Daniel a lot, sometimes we have to disappoint him, but he’s gotten a lot better at having to wait for him. It results in the occasional tantrum, just call me when that happens, please. The first few times at least.”

Rupert nods again. “Of course, whatever keeps him safest.”

GP smiles, startled slightly as Max shoves the now empty juice box in his face, scrambling up from where he was folded onto the floor and finally joining GP on the couch. “GP?” The name is dragged out and whiny.

“Maaaax?”

Max huffs a bit, poking at GP’s chest. “Hotel?”

“Yeah, bub. In a sec. You wanna tell Rupert what we do before we go to the hotel?”

“Pee.” Max says rather quickly, and GP snorts.

“Yes, we have a bathroom break. You usually inhale the juiceboxes. Then what?”

“Shoes. Daddy ties. Or GP, or ….” Max waits a beat before shyly looking towards Rupert. “Or Rupe.”

Both men smile and GP makes an affirmative noise. “Right! Rupert probably knows how to ties laces, huh?”

Rupert laughs, nodding. “I sure do.”

“And we grab our bags, make sure everything is in it and we go find the car, right?”

Max nods. “Then shower at the hotel. Then food.” Max waits a beat again. “With Daddy?”

GP nods. “Daddy’ll be there bud.” He turns to Rupert then. “We always like to let him know what the night’s gonna look like. If Daniel’ll be going to the hotel with him. Or meet him for dinner or even only be there at bedtime. Keeps you calm knowing the plan, huh?”

Max nods, the flush deepening a bit as he curls into GP again.

“Makes sense.” Rupert nods, giving Max a reassuring smile.

There’s a bit more logistics before Max starts squirming with the need to pee, sliding off the couch.

“When you’ll come back, we can start on your laces!” Rupert calls after him, and it gets him a shy giggle in response.

“Okay, Rupe.”

[unremarkableyaks]

May I ask for a Carlos dealing with baby Lando and baby Oscar?? I really love them 🍀

“Lando, amor. One second, okay?” Carlos calls out from the en suite, scrubbing Oscar’s hands under the lukewarm water before taking a cloth to his face.

Breakfast had gotten a little messy, it’s okay, Carlos blames the disorientation on the boy still needing to wake up.

The cloth to the face earns Carlos a whine, one that he soothes with a kiss to Oscar’s now yogurt free nose.

“You wanna go grab the iPad for me?” Carlos hums, brushing some of Oscar’s longer locks out of his face.

The younger nods, already scurrying back into the hotel room as Carlos follows, eyes drawn to Lando who’s slumped in his chair, yoghurt mostly untouched, his thumb in his mouth instead. His eyes are open but barely and it Carlos almost coos.

“You’re eating your thumb for breakfast, nene?”

“M’not hungry.” Lando murmurs around his thumb, probably what he was murmuring before when he was cleaning up Oscar.

“Okay, bub.” Carlos hums, placing his hands on Lando’s shoulders, gently squeezing. “You have bars and pouches in your bag okay. Papa’ll let Jon know too.”

They’d stopped making a fuss if Lando refused breakfast, just made sure he’d catch up later in the day so he still got enough food.

Oscar returns with the iPad, holding it out for Carlos expectantly, Lando straightening a bit at the sight of their beloved technology.

“Truck?” The say in unison and Carlos is glad they want the same thing. He props it up on the tabled against a glass and starts an episode of Trash Truck before finding their hair care products, making quick work of doing both boys’ hair without a fuss.

God bless Netflix.

[unremarkableyaks]

fanfiction is so awesome. some of the most brilliant writers youve ever met are writing the most crazy porn youve ever seen. does that not move you

[unremarkableyaks]

writing fanfiction is constantly flipping between "this is a hobby i do for fun its not that serious" and "if this isnt my next greatest hit im going to back flip off the empire state building"