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The air conditioning unit in the window is making a weird noise.
tick tick tick
An irritating noise that a supposedly brand new AC unit from Facebook marketplace shouldn't be making.
It drives him insane. Lucky for him his new neighbor is a handyman—but it seems luck is not on his side when a man glistening from a sheen of sweat and a towel hung precariously around his waist, opens the door leaving him a stammering mess.
The man, he learns, runs his own company—Verstappen Motors—and easily agrees to see if he can fix his problem.
One “gimme me a minute” later and he's standing in front of his door in only a pair of loose sweatpants.
Oscar pries his eyes away as the handyman squats shamelessly in front of him, leaving him with a face full of ass to freely ogle at while he tinkers away at the sputtering machine.
“All fixed, knock if you need anything else.”
He's sure his fridge was having some problems anyways.
1K | max/oscar | part of @omegaoscarficfest | explicit
Oscar could barely get a cohesive sound out before lips were smashed onto his. Body heat radiating from the alpha engulfed his space, and even through his rut-stricken haze, Max pinned Oscar to the mattress with delicate care. Now only lingering in his boxers, he felt like a pinned insect under careful inspection.
OR, how Oscar goes from overstimulating office lights to being overstimulated in bed.
a/n why am I motivated to write only when I work. ok have max whump. also this is not edited cause I am posting this mid dishes
The rain beat down on the pavement without remorse. Puddles were starting to flood the track, making him skid at speeds that left his stomach feeling queasy.
“Another.”
“Another.”
“Shut up—you already know the answer. Another.”
Asshole.
He didn't notice until he completely lost control of the kart, but when he skidded through a deep puddle that was steadily growing, the back wheels had already decided to give up.
The rhythmic drops fell without a care into the kart that tumbled onto its side with him buckled tightly to the seat.
“Get out, you're wasting my time.”
Jos didn't care that he spun out because of the weather, no he cared because his son spun out. And Max believed that. He believed it for the rest of his upbringing that he wasn't good enough, it was all his fault.
When his mom left with Victoria, it was his fault. It was his fault that he was karting and Jos was too focused on him.
It was all because of himself.
—
The moment Sebastian laid eyes on the seventeen year old, the only thing he could think of is, god he's young.
The second thing he noticed was how isolated the driver was. He would watch the rookie wander the paddock in a quiet hurry, as if he already knew where everything was. He didn't ask for help, he just navigated all by himself.
Himself.
Jos would shadow him in the garage, plastered on the back wall with headphones while scribbling in a book.
But that's the only person Max would surround himself with.
—
Spa didn't hold back, the downpour was relentless. Even on media day the clouds angered with the occasional thunder strike in the distance.
Seb was rounding the corner, on the way to escape from the horror of the media, when he heard a distressed grunt.
Max was bent down on his knees, mud covering every inch of his jeans and worn down sneakers. He was focused on the red had started to ooze from his palms that were trembling.
“Jesus kid—are you alright?”
His head whipped around toward him, his eyes saucer-wide. He shrunk further into himself.
“Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you though.”
Max clearly wasn't fine, the boy was lying through his teeth. “Do you have someone I can call for you? Um… your father?”
“No, no. Not Jos. I can—”
He attempted to push himself up, scrambling to get away, but ended up in the arms of Seb. In turn, he was smothered in the same mud Max was sulking in.
“Oh god, oh god, I'm so sorry—I can get you new clothes—”
“Kid, kid. Relax. I'm not mad.”
The teenager was trembling in his hold as he instinctively tightened his hold on him.
Alright, the Lestapiastri A/B/O oneshot is out!!
Please everybody say thank you to @voiths who basically inspired the whole plot and helped me a lot while writing this <3
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finals are kicking my butt so here i make Oscar suffer. snippet for lestapiastri fic. perchance a chaptered fic..
“You’re a special boy, Oscar.” His year five teacher would praise him. He didn’t understand at the time; he was just happy to be given separate worksheets full of factoring equations while his peers were still stuck on long division.
He knew enough to know that his brain worked differently. More efficient.
Gifted, they’d say. A label—more so a curse—that would leave adults perceiving him differently for the rest of his education.
It didn’t take long for exhaustion to settle in to routine. Sure, he was on track to graduate high school two years earlier than his peers, but as he stood in a pool of year twelves whooping and relishing in finishing their supposed “best years of their lives,” he stood on the sidelines, lingering near a few teachers chatting idly, thinking where everything went wrong.
He was scooped up by some prestigious uni in England, his parents not even hesitating at throwing their savings into his higher education. Oscar wasn’t steering his own ship at this point—it was all left in the hands of the adults. The adults who screwed him over by flaunting his achievements that were earned in silent suffering.
In the U.K. he would be independent. He would be free from judgment and the jealous daggers that bore into him every time he walked the suffocating halls of school.
But with independence came a whole new monster of expectation. He was thrust across the ocean and expected to stay on top of his studies and be the perfect image of a young, talented student. His motivation had sizzled out years ago, only relying on the poor resources his secondary school lacked—allowing him to never put effort into his studies.
He lacked study habits that were necessary in university classrooms. He couldn’t rely on an easy multiple-choice test resourced by poor-funded education. And for once, he felt lost. Lost in courses where rigor wasn’t something you could ignore without going to office hours and asking questions.
He never let it slip to anyone about his age or his previous standing. His professors and peers only saw him for what he was on the outside—one special. Something he hadn’t experienced in ages. So, he slipped between the cracks. Grades dropped and no one batted an eye.
While Max slips away to the restroom, Daniel flags down their waitress in a discreet manner of a toothy smile and frantic wave.
"Hi, yes, hello" he claps his hands together to keep them from fidgeting on the loose end of his shirt that he's been pulling on all evening—he's secretly scared about how Max will react. "It's my boyfriend's birthday," he dumbly gestures to the now empty spot across from him "and I was wondering if you had anything... special?"
Her posture slumps a little but her customer service attitude doesn't fade one bit.
"Of course sir."
-
Max is suspicious.
All he'd done was rinse off the food stain that clumsily got on his button down and now Daniel is acting like a deer in headlights.
He understands immediately when he hears the sizzle of a candle approaching their table with more footsteps than their one waitress.
A group of waiters arc around their table as a brownie sundae is placed in front of him. Happy Birthday! is drawn in chocolate syrup on the edge of the plate.
And then it starts.
Really, Max should hate this. The second hand embarrassment of every stranger around you knowing that it's your special day and they don't particularly care, but they give awkward half smile glances when they force eye contact with him. The workers half-assing their rendition of happy birthday with salaries that won't cut it at the end of the month.
But it's the fact he was never allowed to indulge in it during his childhood. His father never cared, and when his mother was still around he'd barely get a cake decorated with drooping icing and crumpled party hats.
So Max smiles. He smiles until he's laughing a little crazily and Daniel stares at him with wide eyes and oh—he's crying.
The waiters teeter off in fanfare as the candle burns brighter. One by one, with expressions of worry and bafflement, they go back to their jobs of picking up dirty dishes and yelling at the expo.
Daniel still sits with a nervous expression, hesitant to break the silence after the whoosh of the candle being blown out.
"It's fine, Daniel, I'm fine" His tears have stopped running steadily as Daniel reaches out to wipe a stray one from his blushing cheeks. A thank you goes unsaid as he hands Daniel a spoon.
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While Max slips away to the restroom, Daniel flags down their waitress in a discreet manner of a toothy smile and frantic wave.
"Hi, yes, hello" he claps his hands together to keep them from fidgeting on the loose end of his shirt that he's been pulling on all evening—he's secretly scared about how Max will react. "It's my boyfriend's birthday," he dumbly gestures to the now empty spot across from him "and I was wondering if you had anything... special?"
Her posture slumps a little but her customer service attitude doesn't fade one bit.
"Of course sir."
-
Max is suspicious.
All he'd done was rinse off the food stain that clumsily got on his button down and now Daniel is acting like a deer in headlights.
He understands immediately when he hears the sizzle of a candle approaching their table with more footsteps than their one waitress.
A group of waiters arc around their table as a brownie sundae is placed in front of him. Happy Birthday! is drawn in chocolate syrup on the edge of the plate.
And then it starts.
Really, Max should hate this. The second hand embarrassment of every stranger around you knowing that it's your special day and they don't particularly care, but they give awkward half smile glances when they force eye contact with him. The workers half-assing their rendition of happy birthday with salaries that won't cut it at the end of the month.
But it's the fact he was never allowed to indulge in it during his childhood. His father never cared, and when his mother was still around he'd barely get a cake decorated with drooping icing and crumpled party hats.
So Max smiles. He smiles until he's laughing a little crazily and Daniel stares at him with wide eyes and oh—he's crying.
The waiters teeter off in fanfare as the candle burns brighter. One by one, with expressions of worry and bafflement, they go back to their jobs of picking up dirty dishes and yelling at the expo.
Daniel still sits with a nervous expression, hesitant to break the silence after the whoosh of the candle being blown out.
"It's fine, Daniel, I'm fine" His tears have stopped running steadily as Daniel reaches out to wipe a stray one from his blushing cheeks. A thank you goes unsaid as he hands Daniel a spoon.
i saw this couldn't stop thinking about pufferfish max
There’s a stupid human tapping on the glass again. A little human with lopsided pigtails and a mouth that's steadily drooling with liquid. Her hands are small but mighty as they escalate from drawing on his glass prison to pounding and sending vibrations through the water.
The bigger human holding her quickly swats away her threatening fists from his enclosure as he instinctively puffs up to their amusement.
It’s like this every day, in and out. Most walk past him as he keeps himself out of the crowd's eye of interest—but at least once a day he fitfully gives in to his instincts to be rid of them. But then they start coming and cooing in awe, and he wants to hide behind his lone rock, but he’s too big at that point, so he’s left to shamefully float around waiting to inevitably deflate when they get bored of poking fun at him.
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