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scuderiahoney · 16 days

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Oscar Piastri x Reader // In Motion Pt. 5

Summary: one plane ride, a little sunburn, and far too many margaritas to count. 6.0k words

Warnings: alcohol, mention of previous sports injury

It’s a lazy Saturday morning. You’d showed up at the house an hour ago and planted yourself on the couch. Charles had been in the overstuffed armchair, and he’d barely batted an eye when you walked in, too engrossed in his TV show. Lando and Max had wandered downstairs eventually, and piled onto the couch with you. One by one, everyone else wakes up and comes downstairs. They have practice in a couple hours, but none of them are in a rush. Instead, they all choose to scatter around the living room. Charles turns on Planet Earth. Everyone’s engrossed by it.

“Hey, my aunt wants to know if we still want the house for spring break,” George says, looking up from his phone as a school of fish swims by on the TV screen.

Lando, whose head was previously buried under a pillow, sits up. “Obviously.”

“The house?” Oscar asks, and when everyone turns to look at him, he deflates. “Sorry, none of my business.”

George’s phone rings, and he answers and wanders off into the kitchen, chattering away. You’re perked up now, blinking around the room. There are smiles on everyone’s faces, now, at the mention of spring break. You’re all in desperate need of some time off.

Max turns to look at Oscar, arms raised above his head in a stretch. “Piastri. D’you have any plans for the break?”

“Not really?” He says, shrugging.

Max nods. “Cool. You do now.”

Max flops back over onto the couch, and so does Lando, effectively burying you once again.

Oscar turns to look at you, brows furrowed. “What did I just sign up for?”

You sit up from underneath Lando and Max, who groan loudly. “George’s aunt has a really nice beach house. We go there for spring break.”

Oscar raises his eyebrows. “Oh. You know, I didn’t mean to invite myself, and you guys-“

“Shut up,” Lando says, face half buried in the arm of the couch. “You’re going. It’s tradition.”

…..

The only thing worse than navigating an airport is doing it early in the morning with 6 hockey players in tow. You’d think they’d be good at travel with all the away games, but they’re not used to having to get themselves places. Lando almost leaves his luggage at the house, Max almost forgets his whole wallet, and you’re sure Alex would’ve been left behind completely if it wasn’t for Lily. Oscar’s the only self sufficient one, likely because he’s been living on his own for so long now. You think of him having to travel to games with his old team, wonder if he wandered around airports alone, and your chest aches. But he’s next to you, smiling brightly, suitcase in hand and clad in a hoodie and sweatpants. Lando’s ordering a beer from the bar. It’s 6am.

Max tries to usher the whole group towards the gate, like he hasn’t been the most scatterbrained person all morning. You let him feel like he’s in charge. It helps his ego. It’s not long before people get distracted- George wants a bagel, Charles wants to look at souvenirs, which is ridiculous considering you haven’t left yet, and Lily wants coffee. Max looks panicked as everyone starts to wander.

You clear your throat. “Okay. Lily, George, and I are going to that coffee shop,” you say, pointing at the one nearest your gate, “to get breakfast and coffee. Charles and Max will go in the shop. The rest of you can join whichever group, or you can wait at the gate. We’ll all be back here in 20 minutes.”

Max looks relieved, even as Charles drags him towards a stand full of license plate magnets with names on them. You head for the coffee shop, and find Oscar’s opted to join, too. Lando and Alex stay at the gate, guarding all the suitcases.

An hour later, you’re all seated on the plane, much to your and Max’s relief. George booked the flights for everyone so he could use his parents’ airline miles, and so you have no idea where you’re sitting until you actually get on the plane. You slip into your window seat, and Oscar stops at your row with a smile. He’s in the middle. George is on his other side. Up ahead, you see Lily, Alex, and Charles, and Max and Lando in front of them. You pity whoever the stranger is that will have to put up with Max and Lando in their row. Oscar helps put your carry on up above, and everyone settles in for the flight.

After takeoff, you push the window shade up. The sun is just barely starting to rise, and you’re already exhausted. Oscar leans close to peer out the window. He hums softly, pointing down below.

“You can see the house from here,” he points out, and you laugh.

He’s right. You can. The house, the ice rink, the soccer fields, they all disappear below. You wave goodbye, and Oscar laughs and does the same. Then you lean over and fall asleep, head resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind.

…..

The eight of you descend on the beach house in a flurry of activity. It’s bright and sunny out, and you all wear sunglasses as you haul the luggage into the house. George points everyone to their rooms- you’re glad to learn you have the same one for the third year in a row, up on the second floor, with a nice view of the ocean and a room to yourself. Lando and Oscar are sharing, as are Max and Charles. Lily and Alex get a room, and George gets his own room. Charles offers to take your luggage upstairs for you, and you accept happily.

By the time everyone returns downstairs, you’ve made a grocery list. Max looks at it over your shoulder and nods in approval. There’s a little store within walking distance that should have everything you need. When Max suggests you all go to help carry bags, Lando groans loudly, already complaining about a headache or a sore back or whatever ailment will get him out of it. In the end, it’s you, Max, Charles, and Oscar who head off to the grocery store.

When you get back, you unload things in the kitchen, the four of you moving around each other with ease. Oscar drops the juice and you giggle, Charles hugs the bag of cheese puffs to his chest like a little kid, and Max starts pulling ingredients to make a late lunch.

“M’hungry,” Lando calls out.

“Thought you had a headache,” you call back, smirking as he walks into the kitchen.

“Back ache,” he corrects, smiling sheepishly. “Come on, you know plane seats suck.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you hand him the bottle of painkillers you picked up at the store. He gives you an easy side hug in thanks. Lando offers to help Max make lunch, and you retreat to the back deck for the first time this trip. You breathe in deep as the sun hits your skin, as the sound of the ocean fills your ears. It feels like the whole world is in front of you, stretching on and on.

Oscar walks out behind you, doing basically the same. “Wow.”

Alex and Lily are down near the water, and when he spots the two of you, he waves you over. “Low tide!” He calls out, grinning widely. “There’s starfish!”

You turn to Oscar with a grin, and then the two of you run down the shore to meet them. The stress of the school year starts to slip off your shoulders. For now, it’s just sun and sand and nothing else.

…..

Spring break, as it always does and definitely should, tastes like pineapple and coconut rum and frozen margaritas made in the ancient blender that somehow still works. It smells like sunscreen, the reef safe kind that Oscar insists everyone uses. It feels like sand stuck between your toes, like the crash of the waves against your legs, like the heat of the sun on your skin.

“Why couldn’t you guys be, like, professional surfers?” You ask, face half pressed into the giant beach towel you’re laying on. “This is where I’m supposed to spend all my time, not in an ice box.”

Max laughs and tosses a foam football at you. “You chose the school, too, you know. And you love watching hockey.”

“Max would be shit at surfing,” Charles pipes up, and though his eyes are hidden behind sunglasses you can tell they’re crinkled with amusement. “He is not very good at balance. Like Bambi.”

Max scoffs, picks up the ball he’d thrown at you, and chucks it at Charles’ head. Charles dodges it with a squeak and runs after it in the sand. Max follows, likely afraid of the retaliation that’s coming his way.

“Osc, you’re from Australia,” you say. “Have you surfed?”

Oscar’s laid out next to you, in the shaded portion of the blanket thanks to the umbrella George put up. He burns easily, apparently. You’d told him that you weren’t surprised, based solely on the pale tone of his skin, and he’d glared at you unhappily and then chased you into the waves. Now he lays there, face smashed against the blanket, same as you. It’s mid afternoon. He’s usually a bit sleepy in the afternoons, you’ve found.

He nods, prying one eye open. “Not any good, though.”

You scoff out a laugh. He grins back at you. There’s sand stuck in his eyebrow, and you’re about to reach out and brush it away when a shadow falls over you. You look up and find George standing there. Lily, Lando and Alex are following him up the beach.

“Margarita time?” George asks, grinning happily. You push yourself halfway up, propping up on your elbows, and nod your head. “It’s always margarita time, Georgie.”

Dinner that night is grilled shrimp and veggies and bread warmed up in the oven that all the boys eat too much of, promising not to tell their coaches. Someone asks Oscar to say “throw another shrimp on the Barbie,” which then devolves into bad attempts at Australian accents, which then further devolves into bad attempts at everyone’s accents. You’re left laughing so hard your stomach hurts, the sun setting, the warm ocean air washing over your arms on the back deck.

Oscar’s sitting next to you, and he wipes your tears of laughter away with a napkin and says, “You alright, love?” in what can only be a bad attempt at Lando’s accent.

You snort with laughter. The noise sends Oscar into a fit of giggles, too, and soon the two of you are bent over in your chairs, heads bumping into each others, as Lando tries to insist he doesn’t sound like that and Max assures him that he definitely does. When you finally catch your breath and sit up, they’re moving on to mocking Sebastian’s accent, because they always start making fun of their coach eventually. Lily’s watching you, though, a knowing look in her eyes.

You sit on the beach blanket next to the water after dinner, another margarita in your hand. There’s far too much salt on the rim- courtesy of Alex, who’d coated nearly the whole cup in it- which makes it taste a bit like the ocean. Oscar’s sitting next to you, a cup of his own in his hand. The sun is low in the sky, the horizon turning the lightest shade of purple as it turns to night. Oscar’s bare thigh brushes against yours, and you hold your breath.

The back door to the house slides open, and you turn to look. It’s Charles. “We are going to the store,” he calls out. “Are you coming?”

You wrinkle your nose. “None of you are driving, right?”

Charles shakes his head. “We will walk. We want snacks, and we are out of tequila.”

You nod. “I’ll stay here!”

“Me too,” Oscar adds.

“Okay, I am trusting you two,” Charles teases. “Don’t burn the house down.”

Charles calls out something unintelligible and probably not in English. Inside, you hear Max yell for him, also not in English. The door shuts. Oscar sucks in a sharp breath. There’s tequila in your bloodstream and salt on your lips and the heat of his leg next to yours. You close your eyes, the sea breeze dancing over your skin, and you can still feel his lips on your cheek after that game, weeks ago now. You sit for a while, basking in it.

A few minutes later, present day Oscar’s shoulder bumps against yours. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. His cheeks are rosy pink. You wonder if he’d put enough sunscreen on.

“This is really nice,” he says, softly.

The sand is turning cold beneath your feet. You shiver slightly. He leans into you, warm arm pressed to yours, thigh pressing tighter against your skin. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Mhm,” you agree, blinking softly at him and biting your lower lip, just to watch and see the way his eyes dart across your face. “George’s aunt is a sweetheart for letting us stay here.”

Oscar hums in agreement, but he shakes his head, hair flopping over his forehead in a soft swoop. “I meant… this.”

He nudges his leg against yours. Your stomach lurches in the best kind of way. He’s leaning back on the heels of his hands and staring at you while the waves crash onto the shore. His thumb brushes against the back of your hand, tiny grains of sand rolling between his skin and yours. You feel the electricity simmer up your arm and zap down your spine.

“Oh. Yeah,” you say, nodding in agreement. “It is.”

You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry or scream. He’s so close you swear you can feel his heartbeat, or maybe it’s just yours, pounding in your chest, going wild over the way he’s staring at you. He lifts his hand from the sand, the one farthest from you, keeps his other arm pressed to yours as he turns just slightly. When his hand comes up to cup your cheek, it feels so familiar. You remember blue paint on his thumb, brushed off on his pants, the poster leaning against the wall and his lips on your cheek. You want it again. You want more. You swear he leans in.

There’s a loud noise from inside the house, and he drops his hand into his lap. Your heart twists in your chest. You can feel the ghost of his fingertips on your skin when the back door opens. George yells something about playing flip cup. You don’t want to play flip cup- you want to stay here with Oscar and let him kiss you like you thought he was going to. But his hand is in his lap now, and he smiles sheepishly and starts to stand up, and you wonder if you imagined all of it.

…..

Two nights later, when everyone has gone to bed, you find yourself still wide awake. You’re buzzing, probably from the afternoon coffee you grabbed with Charles and Oscar at the cafe down the street. Max had said it was a bad idea. Charles is dead asleep upstairs, because caffeine has never really affected him. You’re busy thinking about two nights ago, Oscar’s hand on your face and the way he looked at you. You know it happened. You swear it happened. He’d been about to kiss you. Right? Maybe you're imagining things. Maybe it’s all in your head.

You’re sitting on the couch near the window, the glass of water Max poured you before he went to bed sitting half empty in your hand. You nearly spill it when someone clears their throat. You know without turning to look that it’s Oscar.

You stare out the window at the ocean. “Might go take a walk down by the water,” you suggest, just to see if he takes the bait.

Oscar hums. “I’d better go with. For safety, you know.”

You nod in agreement, not really seeing the need to protest. It’s a silly excuse, but you want him to come with. The two of you head for the doors, slipping in sandals along the way. The night air is cool, and you shiver slightly as you make your way down the beach. The sand is still sun warmed but cooling fast. The crash of the waves against the shore makes you sigh softly.

Oscar’s only a few steps behind you. The moon isn’t out yet, but you catch sight of a few stars in the sky. You stop at the spot where the waves meet the sand, and he walks up next to you. When you turn to look over your shoulder, all the lights in the house are off except the living room light the two of you left on. Oscar looks, too, and then steps closer. You feel like you should hold your breath, but you don’t. The air smells like salt. You wonder if the smell has seeped into Oscar’s hair and skin, or if he still smells like his shampoo and body wash. You hate that you know the scents of both.

“I love the ocean,” Oscar says, not for the first time that day.

You nod. “Me too.”

His fingers brush against yours where your hands hang at your sides. It sends a zap all the way up your arm, straight to your spine. Does he feel it too? That giddy feeling in your chest? The anxious feeling in the back of your brain? The want, deep in your gut, that makes you want to turn and press your lips to his. Does he feel it, too? You’d take a kiss on the forehead. Or another kiss on the cheek. Or just- if he would just move his hand a couple inches, just intertwine your fingers with his-

Like he’s read your mind, he does. He twists his fingers between yours loosely. You nearly choke on your own breath. Get it together. Your heart aches. You need, you want, does he?

“I…” he starts, then stops.

You turn. He’s already looking at you, face half lit up by the light on the back deck of the house. His lips look soft. They were, the one time you’ve felt them, pressed to your cheek in that hallway. His fingers fidget in yours, but he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either. The waves crash onto the shore over and over again. The sleeve of his hoodie brushes against your jaw when he cups the side of your face in his other hand. This time, you’re sure of it. You know what’s coming. He leans in, and you close your eyes.

If a kiss on the cheek sent butterflies wild in your stomach, this sends them through your whole body. Every nerve is on fire when his lips meet yours. Maybe it’s just because you’ve been waiting for so long. He’s warm against you, and his hand leaves your wrist to wrap around your waist and pull you close, and he tastes like rum and salt and smells like sunscreen. You tilt your head and let him deepen the kiss, let him take the lead, let him in. He’s smiling into it, and it makes your heart ache. When you tangle your hands in his hair, you can feel the sand stuck there, can feel the salt that still coats the strands from his swim earlier in the day. His hand slips to the back of your neck to hold you closer, and you melt for him, for the way he holds you so carefully and so surely, the warmth of him burning up your skin. He giggles into the kiss, light and airy and so Oscar it almost hurts, and you can’t help but match it.

He kisses you for what feels like forever. You can’t find it in you to complain.

…..

The rest of spring break tastes like coconut rum and tequila and Oscar. It feels like sun and sand and his hand wrapped up in yours, sneaking away at any chance you get. It smells like sunscreen and his cologne on the hoodie you stole from him, and it sounds like seagulls and his laughter, and the words he whispers into your ears when nobody’s nearby.

He steals you away while you’re in town, wandering the shops with everyone. He’s good at melting away into a crowd- and it is crowded, it’s spring break and everyone’s had the same idea as you. You hide in a souvenir store while you watch your friends disappear, and you don’t even feel guilty about it. You can’t, not when Oscar’s tangling his fingers with yours and pointing at a little beaded bracelet he says would look good on you. When he takes it up to the counter and buys it, and then loops it around your wrist for you, you feel absolutely giddy. You feel it even more when he kisses your temple sweetly. You rejoin the group a while later, just as they’re starting to worry. Nobody notices the bracelet, but you run your fingers over the beads all day.

Later in the week, he suggests a trip to the ice cream shop when everyone’s half asleep, mid afternoon. You’re tired, too, but when he says it, you suddenly feel wide awake. Once the two of your are out of sight of the house, he pulls you under his arm, hand squeezing at your shoulder the whole walk there. He buys you ice cream and shares his with you, too, and when he stops to kiss you on the walk back he tastes sweeter than ever.

There’s a lot of that- kissing. Anytime the two of you are alone. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Like the two of you have been holding back for so long that you can’t quite find it in you to stop. You sneak out of your rooms after everyone has gone to bed and meet on the beach at night, just the sea and the stars bearing witness as it all falls into place. You point out constellations, and Oscar tells you about the night sky in Australia, and how it feels different here. He finds you seashells admiring the way and gives them to you at night, and you start doing the same, each of you building up collections. They cover the empty space on the nightstand in your room.

One afternoon, you walk to the park nearby, all together, with a little picnic. It’s sweet- Max and Lando throw a football back and forth, and you sit in the grass and have cheese and crackers and fruit and watch people pass by. Eventually, George, Alex, and Lily head back to start dinner, and then Max, Lando, and Charles leave to pick up drinks on the way home. You and Oscar linger, though. They make it so easy to sneak away, really. You take the chance to lay on the blanket with him, your bed on his stomach, staring up at puffy white clouds in the big blue sky. His hand draws patterns on your shoulders.

When you finally head for the house, you walk past a set of soccer goals on a patch of grass. It’s easier, now, especially because it’s not the field where you got hurt. Oscar squeezes your hand anyways. It’s sweet. Something makes you slow to a stop. There’s a ball sitting there, in the middle of the field, black and white in stark contrast to the green. You drop his hand, and he makes a mild sound of protest. You walk over to the ball and toe at it gingerly, feeling the way it rolls under your foot.

He just eyes you carefully,

“We’ll take it easy,” you promise, and he nods. “I just…”

You can’t explain it. For years, you’ve never wanted to go near a soccer field or goal or ball. For years, this idea has brought tears to your eyes. But right now, you want to try. Oscar takes a step closer. He’s smiling.

You kick the ball at his feet. He passes it lightly back to you. The two of you exchange a look and take off down the grass together. You zig zag to every corner of the grass, not trying to get anywhere in any sort of hurry. You build up speed as you get closer and close to the goal, passing the ball back and forth with him. It feels good, to move your body and feel the grass beneath your feet. To feel the ball bounce off your shoe, to watch him accept the pass that you’ve placed so perfectly. You’re rusty, stiff, out of practice, but a little part of this still feels like home. There’s an achy feeling in your body that starts to melt away.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing, at first. He passes you the ball, and you’re in range of the net, and- you dart around him, eyes on the prize, now. He laughs, tries to go after you, catching on nearly immediately. But you’re too good at this, too fast- he’s used to blades on his feet and ice beneath him, not tennis shoes and grass and a ball rolling in front of you. You look up, find the goal, see your spot, and kick.

It sails through the air, hits the net, and falls to the ground. Goal. Behind you, Oscar cheers loud enough that when you close your eyes, you can imagine it’s all still there. That you’re really playing soccer, in front of a crowd again, scoring a goal, taking your team to a victory. You soak it in, for just a moment.

When you open your eyes, you’re on your back, staring at the sky, Oscar’s face looking down at you. His brows are furrowed.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks.

You shake your head. You know the tears in your eyes must contradict that. Oscar shifts on his feet for a second and then collapses to the ground next to you, legs kicked out away from yours, his head right next to your shoulder. The two of you form a little v on the grass, staring up at the sky.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed that,” you admit. “The… running, and the chasing, and the… scoring.”

His hand brushes against yours, then comes down to lay flat atop the back of it. His palm is warm and soft. You try to breathe normally. It’s easier said than done.

“You could always try again,” he says, quietly. “Do a club sport, or a league of some sort…”

You shake your head. “Nah, my knee is already starting to hurt.”

You rub your fingers against the ache. He sighs, heavily, and squeezes your hand. You turn your head to look at him. He’s close, closer than you realized. It wouldn’t take much for you to lean in, and nobody else is here, so you do. Just a short kiss, because you’re laying on a soccer field and there are kids and families nearby. But you want him to know how much this means to you. When you pull away, his cheeks are pink, and you think he understands.

Eventually, you know everyone will start to wonder where the two of you are. So when Oscar stands up and offers you a hand, you let him pull you up off the ground. He brushes grass off your back, and when you get back to the house, you head upstairs to change and hope nobody questions the grass stains on your shirt.

One night, after everyone’s in bed, you curl up on the beach on a blanket, your head against his chest. You listen to the waves and stare up at the stars. He draws lazy patterns on your back, his hand against your bare skin under the sweatshirt you stole from him.

“This is a real thing, right?” He says, quietly. “Not just a spring break thing?”

You smile into his chest, your cheeks suddenly warm. “God, I would hope so.”

“Okay, cool,” he says, in a very calm voice, like you can’t hear the thud of his heartbeat. “Cause I‘ve wanted this for a while.”

“Me too,” you murmur back.

Then he kisses you again, hand under your chin to pull your face to his. He’s a little sunburnt, and you can feel the heat of it on his skin when you brush your lips against his cheeks. Then again, maybe he’s just blushing. The way he smiles makes you think that might just be it.

…..

Keeping it from the rest of your friends is sort of… unspoken. It’s easy, like this, just the two of you. Easy to kiss and hold and talk and laugh without the pressure. You try to remind yourself that it’s okay to take it slow. That you have time to figure things out. And it’s easier to figure things out when you don’t have 6 other people’s opinions on it, let alone the whole team’s once they all find out. Whenever someone walks into the room and Oscar pulls his hand from yours, he scans your face, like he’s checking to make sure it’s okay. You always smile in return, and he lets out a little relieved sigh.

The very last night, you all order large amounts of pizza and breadsticks, and you spread out on blankets on the beach for dinner. The sun is low in the sky, and everything is golden. Oscar finds a spot next to you, laid out on the blanket. Max is already talking hockey plays, Lando listening intently while Alex rolls his eyes. George, Charles, and Lily are chatting about starfish. And Oscar is watching you, eyelashes fluttering against pink tinged cheeks. He’s being painfully obvious. When you smile back, you know you are too. For a moment, though, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s paying attention anyways, as he brushes his fingers against the back of your hand where it lays on the blanket. It’s just you and him, for just a moment.

The next morning, before you head to the airport, you wake up early and find Oscar in the kitchen, cutting up fruit. His hair is a tousled mess, eyelids heavy, but when he sees you, he smiles, bright and warm and sweet. You walk over and slip between him and the counter, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I was busy, you know,” he mumbles, though he doesn’t pull away when you lean in to kiss him.

“Mm,” you sigh. He tastes sweeter than normal. He’s definitely been sneaking bites of fruit as he goes. “Mango. My favorite.”

His cheeks are flushed. “Thought I was your favorite.”

You shrug and wink. “Close second.”

He swipes a piece off the counter behind you and presses it to your lips. You give him a closed lip smile as you eat it, feeling warm all over. He leans in and kisses you again when you’re done chewing, and you have the sudden, strong urge to pull him close, to press your hips into his, to let him pin you against the counter. But your friends are probably all about to wake up, so instead, you pull away and press a finger into the swell of his cheek. He laughs and kisses the furrow between your brows.

“Heading home today,” he mumbles, smile falling slightly.

You nod. “But it’s not just a spring break thing, remember?”

He nods again, the smile coming back to his lips. “Yeah. Just. Do you think we need to tell them?”

You know what he’s talking about. Or who he’s talking about, really. You tilt your head, chewing on your lower lip. “Do you think we need to?”

He sighs, nose bumping against yours. “They’re your best friends.”

And. Oh. Right. You hadn’t really thought about it like that, that it’s not just his teammates and your friends. It’s Lando and Max. Your chest twists. You like that it’s just you and Oscar, but you think about them, about how you share everything, and you wonder if they’ll be upset. Not even that it’s him, but just that you didn’t tell them. On the other hand, they’re likely to get overprotective and weird when they do find out. Max banned a guy you went on a date with from all parties your sophomore year, until Charles told him off for it, but by then it was too late. The guy was a jerk, which was half the issue, but still.

You blow out a puff of air, and then you have an idea. “I might… tell them I’m seeing someone, to start,” you suggest. “Just not who. Just… someone. Is that okay?” You ask.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he says.

“Okay. Cool. Me too,” you say with a nod.

Oscar giggles. You hear a door open, and footsteps. He groans, and you lean in one last time to press a kiss to his lips before you slip away. You sit down on a barstool just before George walks in, scrubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning,” he says, voice scratchy. “Ready to go home?”

“No,” you admit, and Oscar hums in agreement.

When he dishes out the fruit to everyone later, he gives you most of the mango. You grin up at him, wide eyed and feeling so, so happy. When you break his gaze and look across the table, you find Charles staring back at you, a knowing smirk on his face, and you wonder if you’ve been caught. Maybe you just look like a girl with a crush. You still feel like one, really.

You all walk down to the water one last time, dipping your feet into the waves as they crash against the sand. Oscar’s hand brushes against yours as he does the same. You don’t want to ever lose this feeling. The sun on your skin, the water tugging at your feet, and Oscar, next to you, feeling the same way you do.

When you pack the bags into the Uber to head for the airport, you feel a wave of sadness wash over you. You want nothing more than to stay, to never worry about school again, to let Oscar wrap you up in his arms and never leave. You pout, and Max catches you, laughing and pulling you into a loose hug.

“It’s okay, Bunny,” he murmurs, ruffling your hair. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

You don’t say it, but you think it- he and Lando are graduating this year. There’s a good chance they won’t be back next year, too busy with work or real life or whatever comes after college for them. Your heart twists. And Oscar- will he still be yours by then? Not just a spring break thing, you remember, but you have a strong urge to plant your feet in the sand and try to keep them all here. You watch your friends pack bags in the trunk and tease each other and laugh and your chest aches.

“Hey,” Lando says, quietly, sneaking up your other side. “We’ll be back.”

He knows. Max does too, but Lando really knows, because you think he feels it too. Max is trying to play hockey after college, but beyond beer leagues and pickup games, this year will be it for Lando. Senior year is exciting, but it’s a year full of lasts, too.

“Promise?” You ask, quietly.

He links his pinky with yours. “Promise.”

So you climb into the car, and you end up wedged between Oscar and Charles in the row of seats at the back of the car. Max is in the front seat, chatting away to the driver, and Lando’s already leaning his head against the door, half asleep. You press your shoulder into Oscar’s. He spots your hand on the seat between you and reaches out, brushes his fingers against the back of your hand. When you lean your head on his shoulder and let your eyes fall half closed, nobody questions it- you do it to all of them, all the time.

The beach house disappears in the rearview. Oscar presses a kiss to the top of your head when nobody’s looking, and you start to believe everything will really be okay.

bunnyrabb1t

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen33, and 53 others

bunnyrabb1t truly a spring break to remember forever

landonorris still annoyed you and @/oscarpiastri didn’t bring me ice cream back :(

oscarpiastri You were invited & you called our ice cream trip dumb

landonorris doesn’t mean i didn’t want ice cream

lilymhe always a trip to remember with you babe!

bunnyrabb1t ilysm bb 😘

alex_albon hey. back off 🤺

oscarpiastri 🩵☀️🌊⛱️

bunnyrabb1t 🩵🌅🐚🕶️

charles_leclerc 🤨

carlossainz55 charles you are just jealous he is actually on her instagram before you

notes: hiiiiiiii hope this one was worth the wait!! if you are one of the people who told me you were staying up late for this: go to sleep! this is me tucking you in! see ya soon!!

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11

(crossed out means i was unable to tag!)

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why4anne · 6 months

Text

Racing Hearts

Part: 1

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Reader

Word-count: 2k

Summary: F1 prodigy Y/N L/N finds herself with an unexpected crush on NHL sensation Jack Hughes.

Face claim: Madison Beer + others

Masterlist

“Do I have to do this interview?” I asked my media manager. I had just arrived at my hotel in Canada and apparently I had been scheduled for an Interview in an hour. “Yes, Y/N, you have to do this interview. The other guest has already flown out early to do this interview before the race-weekend starts and it will look really bad if you don’t show up” Sarah has been my media manager since I moved to F1 at the age of 19, which was 3 years ago and she was more than used to my antics by now.

“What is it even about?” I asked as I switched my attention from my phone to fully look at her.

“It’s something about 2 stars at the age of 22 or something. The other guest is Jack Hughes, a hockey player in the NHL” Sarah looked at her notes as she said this.

“Hockey player?” I asked, exasperated.”Sarah, I know nothing about hockey! What are we even going to talk about?”

“Don’t worry, the interviewer will make sure everything goes smoothly. You just have to sit there, smile and answer the questions.” It was obvious that she was fed up with my whining at this point so I decided to shut my mouth.

An hour and a half later I found myself in a white room with three mics standing on a table. I greeted a guy named Evan who was the host of the podcast that the interview was for and sat down in my seat, waiting for this other guy to show up.

Five minutes later I was making small talk with the host as the door opened and a man with light brown hair walked in and fuck was he hot. I found myself staring at him as he shook hands with Evan. I could clearly see his biceps under his white t-shirt and I would be lying if I said that they were small. But, before I could look for longer I found him in front of me with his hand outstretched. I quickly pulled myself out of my daydream and stood up to greet him.

“What’s up, I’m Jack” He introduced himself, his mannerisms and way of talking all screamed cool boy, which was very different from the pampered rich boys who were the majority of the people in racing.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you” I answered with a polite smile and shook his hand, locking eyes with him as I did so. I noticed how blue they were.

“Alright, if you both feel up for it I think we should get going” Evan interrupted our moment.

“Sounds good” Jack agreed and we both took our seats.

“Welcome back to the Sport podcast, today we are joined by not one, but two special guests. We have hockey superstar Jack Hughes, a 22 year old center of the New Jersey Devils. He was drafted first overall in 2019 and has just come off a career high season with 99 points and a playoff run.” Evan introduced Jack to the podcast and I couldn’t help but be impressed with his stats. My knowledge in hockey may be limited but the way that Evan was describing him made him sound like a really good player

“Hey” Jack said into the mic. I couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness .

“And we also have F1 protege Y/N L/N. She is currently the youngest driver on the grid but don’t be fooled, she’d been tearing up the grid for 3 years now and is currently looking like she might become the youngest World Champion in Formula 1 history, bringing the championship back to Ferrari for the first time since 2007.” Evan moved on to me.

“Ah, Evan, don’t jinx it” I smiled, all of my media training on the forefront of my mind and after years of this I would say that I’m quite skilled at the media game.

“Just keeping it real,” Evan chuckled. “Now, how much do you guys know about each other?”

Both me and Jack looked at each other, seeing who was going to answer first.

“Well, to be completely honest, I don’t know a lot about hockey so I’m kind of going into this interview completely blind, sorry” I admitted, feeling kind of bad for my lack of knowledge.

“No worries, I bet that you’re busy, " Jack reassured me. “I would say I’m a casual F1 fan, like I know the top teams and drivers”

"That's fair," I replied with a friendly smile. "I'm sure we can still have an interesting conversation, even if we're not experts in each other's fields."

Evan nodded in agreement and continued, "Absolutely, it's all about getting to know each other better and sharing some insights from your respective worlds. So, Jack, tell us, what's it like being a professional hockey player in the NHL?"

Jack leaned forward, his easygoing smile making him even more charming. "Being in the NHL has been a dream come true for me. It's intense, the competition is fierce, and the fans are incredibly passionate. There's nothing quite like stepping onto the ice in front of a packed arena. You feel the energy and the pressure, but that's what makes it all so exciting."

I listened to Jack's response with genuine interest, even though I had limited knowledge about hockey. He spoke with such passion and enthusiasm that it was easy to understand why he had such a successful career in the sport.

Evan then turned to me and asked, "Y/N, can you share with us what it's like being an F1 driver, especially at such a young age?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before responding, "Well, Formula 1 is an incredibly challenging and fast-paced sport with high pressure on the drivers and teams. As a driver, you have to be physically and mentally prepared for each race and you have to put up the results if you want to stay. I mean, there are only 20 seats in the entire world and if you’re not performing there is always another driver who will. I think going into it so young was both a blessing and a curse. It definitely put more attention on me as a driver, but at the same time I kind of got a head start.”

Jack nodded in understanding as I spoke. "Yeah, I can imagine the pressure, especially at such a young age. I mean, you're literally racing against some of the best drivers in the world. It must be quite the experience."

I appreciated his understanding, and I was starting to feel more at ease with the conversation. "Absolutely, and it's a constant learning process. But it's also incredibly rewarding when you have those moments of success and achieve your goals."

Evan jumped in, keeping the conversation flowing smoothly. "It's clear that both of you have a deep passion for your respective sports. What are some of the biggest challenges you've faced in your careers so far?"

Jack took a moment to reflect before answering, "One of the biggest challenges in my career has been dealing with injuries. Hockey can be a rough sport, and I've had my fair share of injuries that required a lot of rehab and patience. But it's part of the game, and it's made me stronger both physically and mentally."

I nodded in agreement, "In F1, the physical and mental demands are also immense. The travel schedule, the constant competition, and the pressure to perform can take a toll. Plus, adapting to different tracks and conditions is a unique challenge in itself. And, of course, there's the challenge of dealing with the media and public expectations."

Evan acknowledged our responses, "It's clear that both of your careers come with their own set of challenges, and yet you've managed to rise to the top of your respective sports. What advice would you give to young athletes aspiring to reach the level of success that you've achieved?"

Jack leaned in and said, "I'd say that dedication and hard work are essential. You have to be willing to put in the hours, stay committed to your training, and never give up, no matter how tough it gets. Surround yourself with a supportive team and use setbacks as opportunities to learn and grow."

I added, "I completely agree with Jack. In addition, I'd say it's important to keep a clear vision of your goals and stay focused. Stay true to your passion and love for the sport because that's what will drive you to overcome the challenges. And never forget that setbacks are part of the journey; they make the successes even more rewarding."

Jack nodded in agreement with my response. "That's some great advice, Y/N. Having a clear vision and staying passionate about what you do is crucial in any career, especially in sports."

Evan smiled and continued, "Thank you both for sharing your insights and experiences. It's clear that you're both dedicated and passionate individuals in your respective fields, and your advice is valuable for anyone striving for success. Now, before we wrap up, let's have a little fun. How about a rapid-fire round of questions for each of you?"

Jack and I exchanged amused glances, ready for the challenge. Evan fired off a series of questions, alternating between us.

"Favorite pre-game ritual?"

Jack answered first, "Listening to music that gets me pumped up."

I followed, "Visualizing the entire race, corner by corner, in my mind."

"Favorite post-game or post-race meal?"

Jack grinned, "Pizza, no doubt."

I chuckled, "A plate of pasta."

"Most memorable career moment so far?"

Jack's eyes lit up, "Scoring my first NHL goal. It was a dream come true."

I shared, "Winning my first F1 race. It was an unforgettable feeling."

As the rapid-fire questions continued, Jack and I found ourselves sharing more personal insights and even some lighthearted stories. We learned about our favorite travel destinations, hobbies outside of our respective sports, and our sources of inspiration.

The interview had transitioned from a professional exchange to a more relaxed and friendly conversation. Jack's charismatic and easygoing personality made it easy to connect, and I found myself genuinely enjoying our interaction. We even exchanged a few friendly jokes along the way, creating a comfortable atmosphere in the studio.

Evan, our host, couldn't help but smile as he witnessed the chemistry between us. "It's clear that you two are getting along great."

Jack nodded with a playful grin, "Yeah! Maybe we'll see Y/N at a hockey game one day."

I laughed, "Well, my media manager told me you’re attending the Canadian Grand Prix this weekend. Maybe I will see you in the Ferrari garage."

Jack chuckled, "I'll be sure to swing by the Ferrari garage and show some support. Maybe you can give me a crash course in F1"

I grinned at the idea. "Deal! And I'll make sure to catch a New Jersey Devils game when the opportunity arises. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two about hockey."

The interview wrapped up and Jack and I exchanged one last friendly smile.

"It was a pleasure, Jack. I’ll see you at the Grand Prix this weekend, I’ll be the one in red" I joked as we said goodbye.

Jack chuckled, "I'm looking forward to it. And if you ever want to catch a hockey game, just give me a call."

I chuckled, "I might just take you up on that offer. Best of luck with your season, Jack."

Jack flashed a warm smile as he nodded. "You too, Y/N. Good luck this weekend."

We both exchanged contact information and made plans to meet up during the Grand Prix this weekend. It was unexpected, but I had enjoyed our conversation, and I was genuinely looking forward to seeing Jack again.

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, jackhughes and 1 242 635 others

yourusername: I had a blast on @/Sports_People today. Go check out their latest episode "Two stars under 22", where @/jackhughes and I delve into our experiences in sports.

view comments:

Sports_People: Such a great episode, thanks for joining us!

liked by yourusername

jackhughes: I had a great time! See you this weekend

- yourusername: I'll be the one in red!😜

holly_hockey: My two faves together? Yes please!

ferrarimorris: I'll be at the race on Sunday, hope you win! Forza Ferrari!

jackhugheswifeyyy: Of course she's pretty aswell, my chances are getting slimmer by the minute🤧

- caufieldsonfire: she's a brunette, don't worry

curiousgeorge: Move to McLaren please! We need youuuu!!🙏💀

#racing hearts au!#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #formula 1 #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #nhl #f1 fanfic #f1 #why4anne #Jack Hughes x F1 driver #hockey #Jack Hughes x F1 driver reader #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine

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jackhues · 6 months

Text

the canadian grand prix - angel's world

NOTE: this takes place on JUN/18/23, the day of the canadian grand prix. a lot of hockey players were in attendance, and we will pretend like mat barzal was too for the sake of this au

this is a series/interactive au, so feel free to send in any ideas/requests/thoughts you have about this! angel's world au masterlist!!

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX - SMAU (COMING SOON)

verstappen!twin reader x mat barzal ,, f1xhockey

barzal97 started following angel.verstappen

angel.verstappen started following barzal97

---

angel.verstappen

liked by arthur_leclerc, redbullracing, barzal97 & others

tagged: maxverstappen1, landonorris, lewishamilton, fernandoalo_official, alex_albon, lilymhe, charles_leclerc & estebanocon

angel.verstappen: congratulations maxy on taking home win number 100 for redbull!! so so proud of you and everything that you've done! to my favourite twin 🥂🍾 and for the rest of you, enjoy the random pics i got of the guys (and my girl lily 😘) as we wait another 2 (or is it 3, i can't remember) weeks until the next gp!

maxverstappen1: ... i'm your only twin ??? -> angel.verstappen: and that's why you're my favourite twin 😁

landonorris: the last pic? srsly mom? -> angel.verstappen: yes. the world needs to know how nicely your new jacket fits you -> zhouguanyu24: @/landonorris you should be happy you were up there THREE times -> angel.verstappen: @/zhouguanyu24 he's my son, he will always be up there -> userone: i LOVE THIS

usertwo: what about all the hockey players who showed up to the gp? i refuse to believe NONE of them gave angel memeworthy content -> angel.verstappen: there's lots of memeworthy content of them, i'm just not allowed to post it

redbullracing: the superior verstappen -> maxverstappen: ah yes, my win doesn't matter -> angel.verstappen: @/redbullracing ignore him, he's jealous you love me more

mclaren: well... that's definitely a look @/landonorris

lilymhe: ooh, i love that picture. send it to me babes 😘 -> angel.verstappen: sent lovey 😘😘 -> alex_albon: @/angel.verstappen stop flirting with my girlfriend -> angel.verstappen: no

userthree: all hail our queen angel verstappen for posting new meme pics of the boys liked by angel.verstappen

charles_leclerc: when did you even take that picture?? -> angel.verstappen: while you were dissociating

userfour: i'm sorry but posting esteban after breaking up with pierre is so petty but GO QUEEN -> usertwo: they broke up over a year ago, get over it

barzal97: what happened to the selfie? -> userfive: hol' up, is there a mat and angel selfie being gatekept from us???

angel.verstappen

liked by maxverstappen1, barzal97, titobeauvi91 & others

angel.verstappen: montréal 🍁 the city of love

comments have been disabled

THE KOOL KIDZ (+ ONE OLD MAN 👴) charles, angel, daniel, max, lando, alex

charlie ange you do know montreal's not the city of love right? that's paris

angel ikk 😭 i just wanted to be aesthetic i'm not that stupid

dannyricc ur related to max it's debatable

angel honestly dan fuck you

maxie hey no swearing fuck you dan

son does this mean i'm allowed to swear in the gc now?

angel no

maxie no

dannyric no

charlie no

alex no

190 notes · View notes

taylorlovesrain · 8 months

Text

the 1 - quinn hughes

pairing: Quinn Hughes x ex!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of therapy, mentions of Lance Stroll x reader

word count: 2.2k

authors note: I actually wanted to post a Luke fic today because of his birthday, but I couldn’t figure out how to finish it, so here’s this <3 btw this is a work of fiction and I’m not saying Quinn would actually act that way

It’s been roughly a year since you and Quinn broke up, the first few months were hard, everything reminded you of him, his shirts you still sometimes found in your closet, because you forgot you had them, the smell of him not leaving his side of the bed until after multiple washes of your bedding, the dvd collection you bought and wanted to watch together, to proof your theory of the greatest films of all time never have been made.

Throughout those past couple of months you’ve changed, you moved to Montreal, started waking up early instead of sleeping in, got a new job that you actually enjoyed, booked your first therapy appointment to figure things about yourself out, dropped some shitty friends and made new better ones, you tried to become a new person. You developed a lot of new habits throughout trying to get over your break up and to be honest, they helped you a lot, you got better and actually were doing good now and thought you were ready to move on. This was a huge step in your healing process, you thought you were finally ready to step into the dating world again after not having dated over the last few years, since the beginning of college, because you were in a happy relationship with Quinn, which seemed like it would last, so you didn’t exactly follow if anything in the dating scene changed during that time.

Quinn and you met during the first few days at the University of Michigan, you shared multiple classes together and became friends quickly bonding over your shared love for cooking, movies and of course hockey, after a few months into your friendship, both of you realized that you didn’t want to be just friends and Quinn first kissed you after winning one of his hockey games. From this point on you’ve been in a at this time happy relationship, you stayed together during the good and the bad times and always supported each other, you were together when Quinn moved to Vancouver to play for the Canucks and you were still at college, you were together when he doubted himself and compared himself to others, you were together when you just wanted to quit college and move to Vancouver to be with Quinn but you also were together during summers at the lake house with his family and friends, when he got his first goal in the NHL and when you finally graduated college and moved to Vancouver for Quinn.

Now for the first time after your break up, you got ready for a date. After you’ve moved to Montreal earlier this year, you met Lance, he lived across the hall from you and asked you to water his plants for the week while he was away. You and him met regularly after this in the hallway him coming back home packed with his luggage and you leaving to either go grocery shopping, meeting up with friends or for work, he still asked you sometimes if you could water his plants while he was away and every time he asked you that he also asked you, if you wanted to go out with him. The first few times you said no, you still weren’t over your and Quinns relationship and you thought it would be unfair to Lance if you told him yes, while not being over your ex, but your nos, turned into maybes and those became a yes, after he knocked on your door one night after coming home from a triple header and asked you again if you wanted to go out on a date with him. Maybe you said yes out of pity, he was trying to get you to go out with him for months and you thought that you could tell him that it didn’t work out after and you could go back to being rather normal neighbors, on the other hand, you were excited to finally go out on an actual date again.

You picked out a simple black dress to wear and slipped on your favorite black heels, Lance didn’t tell you where you would be going, just that it was really nice, so you thought, keeping it simple might be the best option. A few minutes later Lance was knocking on your door and you went to grab your coat and purse, he didn’t say anything when you opened the door, just offered you his arm and led you down to his car. The car ride was quiet and you began to doubt your decision on going out on a date, what if it was too early for you to date again and something would go wrong and you would go back into your little cave of doubt and sadness. Your thoughts were interrupted by Lance stopping the car and him telling you, you were at your destination.

As soon as you stepped into the restaurant, you felt out of place, the place was nice, too nice for a casual first date. While you were lead to the table by one of the waiters, the door of the restaurant opened and a big family entered the restaurant. Your back faced the door, so you had to turn around to see what was causing all of the noice suddenly. And you couldn’t trust your own eyes if the sight you were faced with right now, was actually real or just another bad dream, because you always thought you were seeing Quinn Hughes wherever you would go, at the bus stop, the grocery store or anywhere else, but normally it wasn’t really him you were seeing. But right now, he was here, standing in the doorway of the restaurant you we’re currently attending your first date After months. And he stood there with one arm around his new girlfriend, and behind them her whole family. Of course you knew that he had a new girlfriend, it was everywhere on social media after about two months after you’ve broken up with him, that he had a new girlfriend and now around eight months later, they were all over the internet again, because they’ve recently gotten engaged. You couldn’t believe it, how he could ask some woman he met on the internet to ask her to marry him after only eight months of being together, when he never even wanted to talk about marriage in your six year relationship, always saying that you were too young to marry and should both focus on your careers.

When the news about their engagement came out, you felt betrayed, how could he ask someone to marry him after such short time of knowing someone, when he didn’t want to marry you after being together for six years. You felt like he didn’t even care about your relationship and that the past six years somehow didn’t mean the same to him as they did to you, if they even existed to him, or maybe he had forgotten everything about those years and your relationship and time together. You also felt like he never even even wanted you the same way you wanted him and that made you feel like he robbed you of your time. You believe if he actually wanted you and wanted to be with you, he really would’ve showed you. He wouldn’t have to ask you to marry him, but now seeing that he would marry someone else was horrible and made you doubt everything that happened when you were still together. You were together for six years, as teenagers and during the first few years of your twenties and those were the years that made you become the person who you were now and so you didn’t only doubt if your relationship with Quinn wan real but also if this was really you, you’ve become.

Lance and you went to sit down and the waiter brought you your menus. While you were trying to figure out what you wanted to eat, Quinn, his fiancée and her family were brought to a table on the other side of the restaurant, but you could still see everything that was going on over at their table perfectly. You could see the way he pulled out the chair for her, so she could sit down, you saw how he talked to her parents and the way his mannerisms changed, so they would like him, you saw how he ordered the same drink he always ordered when he went to a fancy restaurant, everything he did reminded you of when you were still together, it was like a deja vu, seeing everything he did and how he hadn’t changed after you broke up. The way that he would smile or take her hand when she said something, made you angry. Of course you were happy for him, you wished him all the best, but seeing him when he already moved on was horrible, when you still thought about him every day and wondered what had to be different in your relationship, so you might’ve been the one he asked to marry and would be sitting with in a restaurant celebrating with your family. Still you were angry about how he could be so happy already.

The waiter setting your drinks down in front of Lance and you brought you out of your thoughts “Do you already know what you want to order?” he asked, the both of you nodded and the waiter went to write it down on his little notepad. You smiled at Lance “I’m going to freshen up my self, I’ll be back soon” you told him and got up to try and find the bathroom.

As soon as you entered the bathroom, you let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding. You thought you were over Quinn, maybe not completely but at least that much, that you could go out on a date or see him in the streets and wouldn’t think about your time together. But seeing him tonight, brought everything that happened in your relationship back up. It reminded you of how Quinn would kiss you every morning after you woke up, how you would hug each other after one of his games, summers you spend at his lake house with his family and your shared friends, when he took you to Rome one summer and made you throw pennies in the Trevi Fountain, so you would come back to Rome together again, that never happened because you broke up before you could visit Rome again. I also reminded you of how your relationship was never how people from the outside wanted it to be, you were never painting by the numbers, your relationship was never how others where, you spend so much of your shared time being long distance but you still thought that you managed to make it count somehow and in your opinion your love was one of the greatest loves of all time, that’s what it felt like to you, when you were still together with Quinn, but now it was over. You would never be in a relationship with Quinn again, you would never hear him laughing again after one of your jokes, you would never be sitting on your couch again watching old and new movies together, you would never hold each other again while crying, you would never fight about stupid little things again and make up with a loving kiss.

You checked your face in the mirror, so you didn’t look like you were about to cry and refreshed your lipstick, you unlocked the door and took a step outside the bathroom, after you closed the door and turned around, ready to make your way back to your table and the date, that was currently waiting for you, you were met with the face of someone, you never expected to stand this close to you again.

Quinn Hughes was standing right in-front of you, you had hoped you wouldn’t have to be this close to Quinn ever again, you moved to Montreal from Vancouver, so you wouldn’t have to see him again, maybe you should’ve just left Canada completely instead. But that didn’t matter now, because the once at a time love of your life was standing right in-front of you, with his fiancée right around the corner. “Hi” you mumbled, trying to be the bigger person out of the both of you and greet him and not act like you’ve never know each other, he muttered a “hey” back, “Congratulations by the way on your engagement, I’m happy for you” you told him, it might’ve been the hardest thing you’ve ever told him, he answered with a low “Thank you” and you turned around to walk back to your table. You wanted to ask him if one thing had been different back when you were together, if everything would be different today and you might still be the one he loved, but you resisted the temptation, because you knew it would be alright someday and you would eventually move on too. He would go back to drink Rosé with his chosen family and you to Lance, the date that would help you move on.

Yet one thing you would still sometimes would think about was how it would’ve been fun if Quinn Hughes was the one.

177 notes · View notes

wnderify · 2 months

Text

𝜗𝜚 WINTERS OVER.

live now think later au!

★ summary — day one of testing in bahrain and avery’s winter photo dump!

★ warnings — none that i can recall but feel free to point out any!

★ pairings — platonic! oscar piastri x fem!oc, platonic! logan sargeant x fem!oc, small luke hughes x oc?

★ disclaimers — this is an au! completely for entertainment purposes and not to be taken seriously. just enjoy and shut the hell up!

williamsracing

bahrain international circuit

70,837 likes

williamsracing The American’s are out in Bahrain!

[tagged: avery.walker, logansargeant.]

view all 53 comments

user Get some real drivers!

user logan looks so good!

avery.walker feels so good to be back!

user walker, my 2024 champion!

logansargeant Heating up 🔥

user Walker isn’t a good driver. Terminate her contract!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

avery.walker

liked by lhughes_06 and 29,735 others

avery.walker new york pizza, canes game, australia with my best friends, sunsets on kure. good winter spent well!

[tagged: logansargeant, oscarpiastri, canes, njdevils]

view all 283 comments

user “best friends” 🥹 beach trio is so special to me.

georgerussell63 Americans are not real.

— avery.walker says the dude who walked 3 poles after the bar.

—— georgerussell63 Bar 💀

user hope you had an amazing summer!

logansargeant unphotographed; aves falling off the rocks at kure.

— avery.walker we don’t talk about that..

oscarpiastri great time this summer!

— avery.walker see you on the grid 🫡

user She likes hockey?

— user she use to play in middle and high school!

danielriccardio Hope you liked the zoo!

— avery.walker my favorite part was getting a banana thrown at me

—— oscarpiastri At least I apologized..

canes avery walker, huge caniac!

— avery.walker always! bring that cup home!

lhughes_06 nice to meet you! even if you were wearing the wrong jersey.

— avery.walker right jersey you mean. thanks for your warm welcome!

user she met luke oh my god!

lhughes_06 followed avery.walker!

avery.walker followed back lhughes_06

—

first post of this au! i’m so excited for everyone to officially meet avery who i adore so very much.

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starlightiing · 16 days

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Hey guys, can you do me a solid and vote? Friend of mine needs some assistance (I don't write Reader/RPF).

I've heard many different things, but we want to hear from YOU. Is Y/N too jarring? Is 'You' too impersonal? Does having an OC/Use of a set name make it too hard to immerse yourself?

Please let us know with a vote and rant away in the tags!

Thank you for your help.

#rpf #rpf fanfic #formula 1 rpf #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #hockey rpf #hockey fanfic #writing #x reader #reader insert

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rainyspringdayss · 29 days

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WHO I WRITE FOR

disclaimer: these are only the ones I could think of right now, so feel open to request others (depending on who it is I’ll write for them) <3

I will NOT write for any college players or minors, because I feel uncomfortable doing so, so please don’t request them

I might also write for some other fandoms but no specific ones as of now

NHL:

Jack Hughes

Quinn Hughes

Luke Hughes

Cole Caufield

Mat Barzal

Trevor Zegras

Nico Hischier

John Marino

Jamie Drysdale

Alex Turcotte

Dawson Mercer

Formula 1:

Charles Leclerc

Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri

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powermakar · 2 years

Text

Powermakar's master list

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL/REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE.

! = smut

NHL/UMICH HOCKEY

Owen power

The Art of Secret Keeping: Part one Part two Part three! Part four

Keep Your Glasses On !

You Don't Need Your Glasses for This !

I love you, for you

Just not enough

5>1

In Sickness and Health

Ethan Edwards

Paybacks

Don't Say Goodbye

Brace for Impact

Luke Hughes

My Best Friend's Brother !

I'm Not Falling for That Trick

She's Busy

Nick Blankenburg

So Care for a Dance?

Kent Johnson

5>1

Jt Compher

Take a Picture !

Oscar Piastri

New Sheets

Dating him

Logan Sargeant

Slut! (3+1)

This is me Trying

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reqxxyt · 7 months

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I have a million drafts but these are half completed so you decide what I complete :)

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hockeyandhrsepwr · 1 year

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Some Pre Abu Dhabi Chaos

Je T'aime series

Jack Hughes x F1 driver reader

**series is set in 2024 & Danny, Seb & mick are still on the grid**

yourusername

Liked by lanceStroll, ScuderiaFerrari & others

yourusername Its Abu Dhabi time. You know what that means #onemoretime #thanksforthememoriess

view all comments

CharlesLeclerc why must you do this to us.

Yourusername because I can

LandoNorris I hate it thanks

Yourusername youre welcome babe

LanceStroll must we do this every year?

yourusername thank you so much for your question. Yes

LanceStroll JackHughes I blame you for this

JackHughes What did I do? She was like this before me. I blame thombordeleau_

yourusername feeling the love

Thombordeleau_ if anything its Ferrarris fault for letting her control her own socials

ScuderiaFerrari Dont blame us!

GinaSchumacher I will pay you everything in my bank account for all of the photos you have of Mick like this

yourusername Oh, I'll share them for free babe. Are we thinking just last year or....

MickSchumacher I will disown both of you

Yourusename please, you can't get rid of me. I'm like a weed

JackHughes did you just refer to yourself as a weed?

yourusername and what if I did?

user123 Alsonso is me in that pic

LewisHamilton Leave me alone!!

yourusername no 😙

carlosSainz55 I hate you

yourusername those glasses make you faster?

Yourusername cause I always see you in my mirror

CharlesLeclerc behind like a loser

ArthurLeclerc you're one to talk big brother

CharlesLeclerc Ferme ta bouche petit merde.

thombordeleau_ how do you get these photos?

yourusername I have my ways

MickSchumacher How about you share the ones you have of him next time?

Yourusername Thats a great idea Mickolas, thanks for the suggestion

thombordeleau_ Watch yourself Mick.

JackHughes don't do it babe

Yourusername Please hold

EstebanOcon you're my favourite rn. Thanks for not including me

yourusername Don't tell Mickey Mouse but you're my favourite too

mickschumacher don't tell mick what? 🤨

Fan133 Mickey Mouse 😭

Fan565 Queen behaviour

fan5758 Oh my god I love you so much

Fan532 askdehe so many thoughts

fan2049 I am not thinking impure thoughts. I am not!

fan22 the FOB reference? I see you

yourusername Thank you! someone who got it

fan22 OMG I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOURE GOING TO WIN!!

PierreGasly You're learning well

Yourusername don't act like youre better than me at dumping

PierreGasly I dont know how to respond to that

yourusername yeah cause you only take Ls (see your picture)

YourUsername

Liked by fan24, LandoNorris & others

Yourusername The grids going to be a bit less fun without you two next year

Danny, youre the big brother I never wanted but got anyway. Glad to have shared a track with you for this long, you high performance athlete that sweats (kiki-rara)

Seb, I can't put into words how much you've done for me. I love you so much please dont leave (Danke)

view all comments

DanielRiccardo where are these photos coming from. I love you too champ 🥲

Yourusername See you in Melbourne?

DanielRiccardo You bet your sweet ass you will

SebastianVettel Youre going to go so far, only just getting started. I'm glad we had those years at Ferrari together & I can't wait to see what else you do (but I’m leaving)

Yourusername stop it Seb, I can't cry again

SebastianVettel Now go & Win it!!

yourusername I'll do it for you<3

Charlesleclerc We'll miss you!

EstebanOcon Thanks for everything!

LandoNorris an icon

LanceStroll a great teammate

YukiTsunoda a mentor to all

yoruusername can y'all not make you own posts? stop hijacking mine

NicoHischer You’re the greatest driver ever Sebastian

SebastianVettel thank you! Y/n tells me youre a good hockey player

Yourusername why’d you have to tell him that? His heads already too big

NicoHischier you talk to Seb about me?

Yourusername You were mentioned a few times

SebastianVettel I’d like to meet you if you’re in Switzerland over the summer!

NJDevils what did you do to our captain?

Yourusername why👀

JackHughes he just passed out in the middle of the locker room

Yourusername You have got to be joking

comments restricted

Yourusername

Liked by Jackhughes, Charlesleclerc & others

Yourusername y’all can thank mick for this one. Good luck in your games tonight/tomorrow boys!

view all comments

thombordeleau_ hey MickSchumacher 🖕

MickSchumacher Right back atcha bud

_quinnhughes Mom & I are going to have a talk about you getting that photo

yourusername you leave my queen Ellen alone!!

_quinnhughes she's my mother!

yourusername yet she loves me more

Elblue6 I have no favourites

_alexturcotte uh huh sure

Elblue6 Are you sassing me Alex?

_alexturcotte absolutely not queen Ellen

Lhughes_06 could've been worse

yourusername Thank you moose. they just dont get it

lhughes_06 oh I still hate it

yourusername I know!

JackHughes hey, babe, love of my life, my everything, take down the Gato one

Yourusername but you look so awkward in it!

nicohischier I can see the sniper dot on his chest

dawson1417 Say goodbye Y/n. Biosteel's coming for him

jesperbratt I can hear the gunshots

yourusername do you have to be so dramatic?

JackHughes sorry Jack can’t come to the comments. He’s dead - N

Yourusername Put my husband on Nico

JackHughes I love it when you call me that

Dawson1417 stop being sappy

nblanks98 jimmy.lambert looking good in that last pic

jimmy.lambert damn right I do

TrevorZegras Cole got a feature but I didnt?

yourusername he’s not as annoying as you (sometimes)

Edwards.73 OMG I’m on the official insta, mom im famous!

Dylanduke.25 pipe down buddy, its the back of you head.

Markestapa more than you appear dyl

CharlesLeclerc oh, these are so much worse than ours

carlossainz55 you know she'll take that as a challenge

LandoNorris I wouldn't be surprised

yourusername well you'll have to wait & see

Mackie.samo not the WAP #neverforget

plapointe_22 I wish I could forget

lhughes_06 we all do

fan727 oh my god I need more!

user09 so many questions

user93 I get more invested in this relationship & friendship every day

ColeCaufield Thats my bad side!

Yourusername you have a good one?

NSuzuki_37 👆

jacob_trusscott20 you’re welcome for some of these

Yourusername Thanks Jacob! I’ve been holding on to them for a while & they finally came in handy

jacob_trusscott20 happy to help my favourite Canadian

thombordeleau_ the fuck did you just say?

jacob_trusscott20 nothing honey

thombordeleau_ youre sleeping on the couch tonight

Yourusername ooooh big threat **jazz hands**

brendanBrisson did you just 👐

Yourusername there’s no emoji for it Brendan 🙄 I needed to get my point across (those aren't jazz hands you loser)

xxx

#fast cars and sharp shoes au #jjs insta edits #jack hughes #driver!reader #je taime series #formula 1 x hockey #hockey instagram au #f1 instagram au #jack hughes x reader #charles leclerc #Jack Hughes insta edit #mick schumacher #quinn hughes #thomas bordeleau

234 notes · View notes

scuderiahoney · 28 days

Text

Oscar Piastri x Reader // In Motion Pt. 4

Summary: a very bad snowstorm, bears in the ice hockey arena, and a one night only poster board pick-me-up. 6.6k words

Warnings: mentions of physical violence, small mention of alcohol

“So. You and Oscar spent a lot of time together over the break,” Lily says, carefully.

You roll your eyes and set the glue stick in your hand down, sensing this is going to be a long conversation. “We were the only ones here for like, a week. And we were bored. And then Max showed up, so it wasn’t just us.”

Lily isn’t looking at you. She has a wine glass in one hand and a magazine in the other. The two of you are making vision boards, which Max had called “glorified collages” when he called five minutes ago to ask about family dinner for tomorrow.

Lily hums. “He’s just so… quiet.”

You shrug and take a sip of your wine. “He’s not, really, once you get to know him. He’s just… it’s easier for him one on one, you know?”

Lily nods. You nod, too, and lean over to pick up another magazine. You flip through the pages, looking for whatever sticks out. Your friends collect magazines and newspapers and fun posters and give them to you, and you hoard them for days like these. A little sun drawing pops out at you from the page, and you reach for the scissors.

You clear your throat. “Nothing happened, if that’s what you were trying to say. We just. We had some movie nights, played some video games, took a couple walks. That’s all.”

Lily looks up at you and stares. “Right.”

You stare right back. “What?”

“Did you want something to happen?” She asks, and you freeze, the magazine page half turned.

“What?” You ask again.

“You said nothing happened,” she says. “Did you want something to happen?”

You stare at the wine in your glass, the way the warm light of the lamp catches on the red liquid. Your stomach swirls. Did you want something to happen? He’s your friend. Your study partner. He’s your best friends’ teammate. Did you want something to happen? He’s a sweetheart once you get to know him. He holds your hand when you walk by the soccer field and he doesn’t push you when you can’t do it. Did you want something to happen?

You shake your head. “We’re just friends. We bonded over physics trauma. We were just bored.”

Lily nods and reaches for the scissors. “Okay.”

You want to say more to defend yourself, but you think that’ll be even less convincing. So you move your focus back to the vision board and try not to think too much about what she asked you. It doesn’t matter what you wanted, anyways. He’d never see you that way, and if he did, he’s probably too scared of his teammates to do anything about it.

…..

January slips away faster than you’d expected. It’s full of syllabuses and assignments and far too much homework for this early in the semester. You do a lot of it at the kitchen table in the guys’ house, sat across from Oscar even though you’re not in a class together anymore. It’s just nice to have someone to study with, even if he has no idea what you’re talking about when you whine about your biology assignments.

February brings with it the warnings of a winter storm for the ages. On a Thursday night, you sit on the couch in the living room, giving your homework a feeble attempt. The guys are back from an afternoon practice, and everyone is settling in for the evening.

“You know who we play next week,” Carlos says, leaning over the back of the couch and looking at you.

“Can’t remember,” you answer, not even looking up from your book. “Not the Badgers.”

The Badgers are the Timberwolves’ sworn enemies. The rivalry game weekend is one of the most anticipated events on campus. It’s marked on the calendar in the kitchen with a dark red X. It’s weeks away.

“No,” Carlos says, raising his eyebrows when you finally look up at him. “The Bears.”

For just a moment, you wonder what sort of significance that’s supposed to hold. They play a lot of teams. Most of them, they’re relatively civil towards. A lot of the players grew up together on junior teams, and they’re still friends outside of game weekends. You’re about to ask if he has beef with a Bears player when you notice Oscar’s stiff posture where he sits on the floor in front of the couch. He’s been half watching the TV, half working on homework. Then you remember.

Oscar played for the Bears for two years. That was his former team. The ones who treated him so badly he quit hockey. You blink up at Carlos and pray he doesn’t take the route you think he’s going to.

“You know who used to play for the Bears,” Carlos starts, a lilting tone to his voice.

Oscar turns over his shoulder with a grimace. “Play is a strong term,” he says. “I did a lot more sitting than skating.”

Carlos shrugs and wiggles his eyebrows. “I am just saying. Maybe we should be worried that Piastri here will go easy on his friends.”

“Not my friends,” Oscar says, quietly.

You slip your hand off the couch and press it to his shoulder blade, hidden from Carlos’ view behind blankets and cushions. Oscar relaxes slightly, and his eyes flicker to yours. Carlos is just trying to rile him up, probably. There might be a hint of truth to it- trying to test Oscar’s loyalty, which is stupid.

You turn to Carlos and blink. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like your own apartment?”

Oscar laughs and tries to disguise it as a cough, muffling it into his elbow. Carlos grins, gaze flickering between you and Oscar, mischief in his eyes.

“Oh, Bunny has claws,” he teases.

By Sunday, everyone is panicked about the impending snow. The stores sell out of all the essentials before you can even bother to plan the week’s family dinner. You and Max will have to make do with what’s left on the bare shelves of the grocery store. The aisles are packed with people. You’ve lost Logan in the fray.

“He’ll be fine,” Max says, trying to maneuver the cart around a small child. He makes a funny face at her, and she laughs. “He will find us, and if he doesn’t…”

“Oh my god, please sound more concerned,” you say.

He shrugs and reaches for a box of Kraft Mac and cheese.

“You have to be kidding,” you say with a glare.

He nods, looking at the grocery list again. “I am. We are buying more TimTams?”

Your face grows hot against your will. You snatch the list from his hand as he eyes you, brows raised. At that exact moment, Logan, your lifesaver, appears from the crowd.

“I got so lost,” he says, eyes wide. “This place is a madhouse.”

Max nods, and he looks around, set determination on his face. “Alright. Let’s get what we need and get out. Logan, hold onto the cart.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “I’m not a child,” he says, but he grabs the cart anyways.

By the time the three of you get in the car, the first few snowflakes are falling. Max sits stiffly in the passenger seat the whole drive, like he’s worried a little snow will send you into a violent crash. You make it home safely, of course, and unload the groceries together. Charles is sitting on the couch in front of the living room window, staring at the snow, a cup of hot chocolate in hand.

“It’s already pretty,” he says, softly.

You ruffle his hair. “Is there more hot chocolate?”

He nods. “Oscar’s making it.”

You head for the kitchen, bags in hand, and find Oscar and Alex huddled around the counter. You give them a smile as you unpack the groceries, and Max and Logan do the same. Oscar looks up at you, eyes bright.

“What do you want in yours?” He asks.

You stand with your hands on your hips, thinking hard. He’s got plenty of supplies- mini marshmallows and sprinkles and caramel drizzle and whipped cream. You shrug.

“Keep it simple,” you say. “A couple marshmallows and some whipped cream.”

He nods eagerly and gets to work. By the time your bags are empty, it’s ready. He hands it off to you with a happy smile- the whipped cream sits in a perfect spiral atop the mug. He looks so proud, and it’s such a sweet gesture, you almost lean over and kiss him right on the forehead. Almost, before you remember half his teammates are here, and Max is watching, and everyone is apparently suspicious. And that it would probably be a strange thing for you to do. You just smile and thank him quietly instead.

You head back into the living room with the mug, trying to shake his soft, proud grin from your brain. Charles is there, in the loveseat next to the window, and he pats the cushion, beckoning you to join him. You sink down, turning so you can look out the window, too. He tosses a blanket over your lap.

“He gave you more whipped cream than me,” he says, pouting.

You shrug. “Maybe he likes me better.”

Charles narrows his eyes at you. “Do you remember, a few months ago, when you thought he hated you?”

You nod. “Funny how things change, huh?”

Oscar walks in then, a mug in his hands. His gaze slips to the window, brows raising on his forehead, and he smiles happily. You smile, too and turn back towards the window as he walks over.

“Pretty,” he says, softly. “Wow, it’s really starting to come down, huh?”

You sigh. “God, I hope they cancel classes tomorrow.”

Charles sighs and sits up. “That reminds me. I have an assignment due at midnight.”

He stands up and stalks off, taking his hot chocolate with him. Oscar makes a sympathetic noise, but he doesn’t hesitate to steal Charles’ spot on the couch. You smile at him when he sits down. Both of you put your legs up on the cushions so you can stare out the window. You rest your head against the back of the couch and let your knee rest against his. Outside, Logan pulls up with a full car, having offered to pick up a few of the team members who didn’t want to walk in the snow. Carlos climbs out of the front seat and leans over, already trying to scrape together a snowball. Oscar sighs. You turn to look at him, and he’s got a look of apprehension on his face. You nudge your knee against his.

“What’s up?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Maybe they’ll cancel the games next weekend, too.”

He doesn’t want to play against his old team. From what he’s told you, you can’t really blame him. He’d hinted at a toxic environment when he first told you, but the longer the two of you have been friends, the more information you’ve pulled out of him. He’d mentioned something about a scar on his upper lip, how his old team captain had left it there when he pushed him onto the ice. Your heart breaks for him.

Under the blanket, you reach out and rest your hand on his knee, lightly. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

He grins widely at that, and then hides it behind his mug of hot chocolate. You smile right back. Outside, Carlos hits Logan directly in the stomach with a snowball. The others are making their way towards the house. You brace yourself for the impending chaos.

Charles and Max cook dinner, and there are enough people in the house that you end up eating in the living room on one of the couches. Lando sits next to you, while Oscar sits on the floor in front of you, his back against the couch. The news is playing on the TV, and you all steal glances at the bottom of the display, where the area snow closures are being announced.

Max pokes his head into the living room from the dining room. “Snow’s getting bad. Anyone who doesn’t live here should probably go now, yeah?”

People begin to stand up. You almost follow suit, figuring it’s about time you headed back to your apartment, and not really wanting to walk in the snow. Lando grabs your wrist and tugs, though, and Oscar’s head whips around to look at the two of you.

“Maybe you should just stay,” Lando suggests, a small smile on his face. “It’s a storm warning, you know.”

You blink softly at him, though you sit back down. “Lan, I don’t have any of my stuff. I don’t have clothes to sleep in. I have an 8am class, and I don’t want to sleep on the couch and have a sore neck-“

“Oh come on, you know they’re going to cancel classes,” Oscar says, nudging your knee lightly.

“And if they don’t, I’ll go get your stuff,” Lando suggests. He pouts. “And you don’t have to sleep on the couch, I’ll get the air mattress out. C’mon. What if your power goes out?”

“When my power goes out, yours also goes out,” you remind him.

“But we can all be powerless together,” Charles chimes in from the other end of the couch.

You groan. “You guys. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself in a little bit of snow.”

You hear Logan’s car start up outside. You try to get up again, but Lando wraps his arms around your arm, and Oscar reaches for your ankles. You let out a squeaky laugh and try to break free just as Max walks back into the living room, brows furrowed.

“Max! Tell Bunny she should stay here,” Lando calls out.

Max blinks, eyes darting over the entire situation before he turns to look at you. “There’s a winter storm. You live alone. You are not going anywhere.”

You grumble, but you go limp anyways. Lando lets go of you and high fives Max as he walks past. Oscar holds onto your legs for slightly longer, and he squeezes your calf softly before he pulls away. You try to act normal about it, though from the side eyed look Lando gives you, you’re not sure you were successful.

Eventually, you head to the kitchen to help Max clean up from dinner. Lily, Alex, George, and Oscar sit at the dining room table, playing cards, while you and Max do dishes and Lando and Charles clean counters. When your eyes stay on the Oscar for too long, watching him laugh happily, the sink nearly overflows. Max nudges your shoulder.

“You can go hangout, if you want. I can do the dishes,” he suggests.

You shake your head. “M’fine. Just spaced out a bit.”

Max nods, though you can feel him watching you every so often. Lando and Charles start slapping each other with rolled up wet washcloths, and that distracts Max enough, at least for a few minutes. There’s music playing, and you hum along as the soapy water warms your fingers. When the dishes are done, Max ushers you to the dining room, and you take a seat in the chair on next to Oscar. Lando and Charles join, too, and you smile around at everyone. Snow is falling in the backyard, and the world feels quiet. Oscar’s fingers brush against yours when you both reach for a card, and you can’t help but smile. You’re exactly where you want to be.

At 9:30pm, just when you’re starting to yawn, and Lando is talking about going and setting up the air mattress, everyone’s phones go off. Little dings and chirps and vibration sounds echo through the dining room. Alex is the first one to open the email.

“Classes are canceled!” He calls out. “Snow day!”

The room erupts into chaos. Lando and Max hug each other, George stands up and cheers, while Charles collapses forward onto the table in relief. You turn to Oscar as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and shakes you gently. Alex leans over and kisses Lily on the cheek as she cheers. The joy in the room is infectious. Snow days have the ability to turn you all into children again, apparently.

Oscar leaves his arm around the back of your chair for the rest of the game. You try desperately to act like it’s not there, like you can’t feel the warmth of him on the back of your neck or the way his fingers brush against your shoulder. It’s consuming your thoughts, though, making it insanely difficult to focus on the card game at hand.

He’s one of the first to go to bed, and you miss the feeling as soon as he’s gone. You head up to bed eventually, and you pass Charles in the hallway on the way to brush your teeth. He gives you a sleepy half hug and stumbles into his room. You find yourself looking at Oscar’s door and wondering if he’s still awake, but you’re not sure what you’d even do if he was.

You wake up the next morning to Lando still out cold, snoring loudly into his pillow, and the early sun inching its way through the blinds. The air mattress is partially deflated, and you slide off of it and onto the floor with a soft thud. There’s a hoodie laying on the floor that seems relatively clean, and you pull it on. You know immediately it’s not Lando’s- it smells like a different laundry detergent and cologne, but it feels familiar and warm, so you leave it on. Then you wrap a blanket around your shoulders before you head downstairs.

Oscar’s sitting on the loveseat, still rubbing sleep from his eyes when you find him. He turns and blinks up at you, eyelids heavy. You blink back, long and slow, the way you’d been told to do with pet cats. It seems to work on him- he smiles. Without a word, you head for the kitchen.

You return with two mugs of tea, and he smiles up at you. He makes room for you to sit, and you do so happily, curling your legs under you and fully facing the window. It’s a winter wonderland outside. You can’t even see where the front yard ends and the street begins. Snow is still falling, though at a slower rate.

“It’s so… quiet,” Oscar whispers.

He stretches one leg out behind you on the couch, and bends his other knee up next to you. When you lean against him lightly, he doesn’t protest or move away. He just smiles.

You nod in agreement. “Pretty. I love snow.”

You blink a couple times and take a sip of your tea. Oscar’s leg is warm against your side. He reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. You sigh and let your eyelids flutter shut.

“Still sleepy?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah, but the air mattress is deflating, and Lando’s snoring, so…”

“Here,” he says, and you blink at him in confusion.

Oscar’s hand brushes against yours where you’re holding the mug. Your grip falters, and he slips it from your hand and sets it down on the nearby table. Before you can blink again, he leans forward and wraps an arm around your middle. Then he uses it to haul you towards him, your back against his chest, side by side on the little sofa. You’re nestled between him and the back of the couch, surrounded in warmth, your skin burning up. You can feel the soft rise and fall of his chest behind you.

“Okay?” He asks.

You nod, too sleepy to form the words, too sleepy to worry about what this means or if it’s weird or if someone else will see the two of you and have questions. He lets out a little laugh, his hand slipping into the pocket of the hoodie you’re wearing.

“Is this my hoodie?” He asks. You shrug. “Think it is, there's a hole in this pocket.”

“It was on Lando’s floor,” you mumble, burrowing deeper next to him. “So it’s fair game.”

He laughs, but he lets it go. You rest your cheek against his other arm and bask in the softness of it all, blinking at the falling snow and the soft morning light. Sleep scratches at the back of your brain, and as much as you want to fight it, as much as you want to stay present, it melts over you. The last thing you feel before you fall back asleep is the press of his cheek against the top of your head.

When you wake up, he’s in the kitchen, talking lowly with Alex. There’s a pillow wedged behind you to keep you from falling over and off the couch, and the blanket is pulled up around your chin. You don’t blame him for getting up, and you’re a bit relieved that he seems to have done it before the rest of his roommates are up, because you might have never heard the end of it. Though, when Lando rolls out of bed and joins you on the couch, with Max not far behind, and the three of you squeeze onto the little sofa together, you wonder if they’d have even questioned it. Maybe they’d have seen it the same as this- friends curled up on a slow morning, sharing space and warmth. Maybe that’s all it was for Oscar, too. You’re probably the only one who felt butterflies over it.

Oscar pouts when he walks in and sees his spot taken, though. Behind him in the doorway, Alex meets your gaze with a smirk, eyebrows raised, and you start to wonder again. Eventually, the rest of the people in the house join you downstairs, and you all start to make snow day plans. You close your eyes and listen to them talk. Whatever they come up with, you’ll enjoy, you know it already.

…..

Unfortunately for Oscar, the snow clears, and the first game against the Bears goes forward as planned that week. It’s a mess. The Timberwolves are up by two by the time they’re halfway into the second period, but the Bears are playing like, well, bears. Not a lot of penalties, but cheap shots and bad moves and what looks to be exhausting hockey. They’re frustrated by their own inability to score by the third period, and that’s when the claws really come out. The refs send a Bears player to the box for slashing. He gets back on the ice, and then another one gets called for tripping. There’s a few minutes left, they’re down a player, and they’re desperate.

When Oscar gets locked into a battle for the puck with his old team captain, you hold your breath. He manages to bat it away and send it skidding towards Max, but his helmet and face mask get shoved askew in the process. Somehow, you just know. Everyone in the arena follows the puck, but you watch as the captain on the other team rips his gloves off. You grab onto Lily’s arm and watch his fist connect with Oscar’s jaw. The Timberwolves bench erupts into chaos. The fight is over before it even starts, because Oscar just pushes the guy away and doesn’t swing back. The team captain gets sent to the penalty box. Oscar gets his helmet back on and gets back in the game.

An hour and a half later, you sit at the kitchen counter in their house, a mug in front of you. The house is quiet. You’re not sure why you’re still here- Lando went to bed a while ago, and Max had retreated to his room even before that. You’d made the excuse of staying to clean up the dishes, but now you’re just… here, still. Waiting. You should really go home. It’s bordering on midnight. If you walk home much later than this and any of the guys find out, they’ll be pissed.

The front door creaks open. Soft footsteps echo down the hallway, and you look up from your mug of tea. Oscar doesn’t seem surprised when he walks into the kitchen and finds you sitting there. He stops in the doorway, shoulders dropping. There’s a bruise shadowing his jaw. You wince.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he mumbles.

You stand up from the stool and head for the fridge. You can hear him walking closer as you rummage around in the freezer, finally finding one of the ice packs they keep in there. On a whim, you also reach into a cleverly disguised bag of frozen peas, and come out with two chocolate dipped ice cream bars. When you turn back to Oscar, items in hand, he looks perplexed.

“We have ice cream?” He asks, quietly.

You smirk. “Max hides them. But he can’t keep secrets from me. He won’t mind.”

He takes a seat on the stool, and you flip the switch for the overhead lights. He grimaces.

“I already had it looked at,” he says, brows furrowed. “Trainer said it’s fine.”

You hum as you step closer, pretending your heart doesn’t thud in your chest when you come into close range. “I know,” you say, reaching up and placing the ice pack against his face gently. He hisses. “This is actually an interrogation.”

His hand comes up to hold the pack, fingers brushing against yours. He laughs, then winces. “Yeah? What about?”

You drop your hand to your side. “Why didn’t you fight back?”

He sighs heavily, looking anywhere other than your face. You roll your eyes and open one of the ice cream bars and hand it to him. Then you sit down on another stool, facing him, before you open your own ice cream, too.

“I don’t wanna get suspended,” he shrugs. “And I don’t really fight.”

You decide not to bring up the guy at the party last semester and the way Oscar had been ready to punch him. “Even if they hit you first?”

He nods and makes a little noise. You wonder if he ever fought back when they were on the same team, or if he just accepted it. Your heart aches for him. He shrugs again, eyes flickering up to yours. He looks so sweet, despite the harsh kitchen light, despite the purple tinge on his skin, even more with a bit of chocolate in the corner of his lips. You take a bite of your own ice cream in the hopes that it’ll cool you down.

“Just never felt worth it,” he admits. “I don’t know. Some people are in it for that, for the hits and the fights and the… aggression. I just like hockey. Besides, the guy got a penalty. So now he’s out for a game. That’s better than getting a hit on him.”

The tone he says the guy in is interesting- like he’s distancing himself, like it’s easier if he pretends it was just some guy and not the captain of his old team. You overheard some of Lando and Max’s hushed whispers. You know the guy said some shitty things about Oscar on the ice. And tomorrow, he has to play the rest of the team all over again. Oscar takes another bite of his ice cream and purses his lips.

“I’m okay,” he promises. “And if the guys think I'm going easy on them because I have some weird sense of loyalty, I’m really not.”

“Oh, Osc,” you say quietly, shaking your head. You reach across the gap and press your hand to his wrist, the one holding the ice pack. “Nobody thinks that.”

He shrugs. “Carlos was-“

“Carlos was being a dumbass, but he doesn’t really believe it,” you promise. “After the game, all they were worried about was you. That’s it.”

He lets out a huff and takes another bite of his ice cream, cracking through the chocolate shell. “I don’t wanna be worried about.”

You almost pull your hand from his wrist, but as soon as he says it, he winces, closing his eyes. You wait, rubbing your thumb against his skin. He takes a deep breath. You press your finger to his pulse point, and his breath hitches. You watch his shoulders move.

“I don’t mean that. It’s nice. Just. Had a bad day,” he says. “And we have to do it again tomorrow.”

You nod and squeeze his wrist. “That’s the shitty thing about the way college hockey works, huh.”

He nods. The ice pack bumps against his face, and he hisses. You muffle a laugh and reach to put your hand over his to steady it, keeping your grip gentle. He inhales through pursed lips and closes his eyes. He slips his hand off the ice pack and lets you hold it, and blood roars in your ears. It feels so trusting. Strangely intimate. His hand falls to your knee, and you try to breathe normally. You’re probably failing miserably. You swallow all the feelings down and try to come up with something to say.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” you remind him. “We can wake up and pretend today never happened. A new game, a new start.”

He sighs and closes his eyes. “I can try.”

“That’s all anyone could ask for,” you tell him. “That’s all you can ask yourself for.”

A wavering smile crosses his lips. You take a bite of your ice cream to stop yourself from leaning in to brush your own lips against his cheek. The two of you eat the rest of your ice cream bars in the peace and quiet, under the fluorescent kitchen lights. His hand stays on your knee, barely there, just resting. Your fingers go numb holding the ice pack, but you don’t complain. You can hold this for him, for a little bit. He’s holding onto enough.

…..

You wake up on the couch the next morning with an ache in your neck, because by the time you finished the ice cream Oscar insisted it was too late for you to walk home, and you hadn’t wanted to wake Lando by sneaking into his room. Upstairs, you can hear the guys starting to wake up. Soon they’ll be donning their suits and heading to the rink to get ready. You push yourself to sit up and run a hand through your hair. Then you head for the front door.

Once you’re home, you call Lily. “I have an idea,” you say, ”and I need your help.”

Lily, to her credit, doesn’t ask a lot of questions. You’re sure she sort of understands what’s going on without having to ask, but you’re grateful either way. The two of you shuffle into seats in the arena, eager to watch. You’re wearing your jersey today, hoping it brings good luck, and you’ve both gone full out with lines of blue face paint under your eyes.

When they come out onto the ice, Lando’s the first one to spot you. He does a double take, nudging at Max’s shoulder. They both stare, heads tilted. You can’t blame them. Instead of your normal seats, the two of you are in the front row, right down by the boards.

You’d sit here every game if you could, but the tickets are outrageously expensive on a college student budget, especially when you can sit in the student section for free. Today, though, you’d splurged. There’s a poster board sitting at your feet that you’ve worked painstakingly on all morning. It needs to be seen, and for that, you need to be up close.

Lily lets out a squeak when Alex skates over. “Oh! Hi!”

You roll your eyes affectionately at your friend as she makes hand gestures at her boyfriend through the plexiglass. It’s too loud for them to hear each other, especially through the glass, but Alex’s big smile says more than words ever could. For what’s definitely not the first time, you find yourself wishing you could have what they have. You want someone to smile like that when they see you. You want to feel that giddy feeling.

Lando skates over, tapping his glove against the glass. You just shrug and laugh. He points at the poster board. You shake your head, and he rolls his eyes. It’s not for him. He’s not the one who needs it. Out on the ice, Oscar’s next to Charles, heads bent together as they stretch. Max skates over and points at you, and from this close, you can see Charles' affectionate eye roll, and the way Oscar smiles. He goes from apprehension to adoration quite quickly. Something turns in your chest. Lando, who’s still standing nearby, quirks a brow, and you wonder how plainly it’s written across your face.

While they’re all looking, you take a deep breath, pick up the sign, and raise it above your head. Alex bursts into giddy laughter, Lando’s shoulders drop, and Oscar’s face lights up like the sun.

Kick Some PiASStri, it says. The letters were cut out of magazines and glued down this morning, and you’re still a bit worried it’s not dry enough, but it seems to hold for now. Max and Charles bump their heads against each other as they laugh. Oscar shakes his head, absolutely beaming. It’s a new game, a new start, another day, another chance. And maybe, what he needs is a little bit of encouragement. A reminder that there are people rooting for him.

He skates over, playfully shoulder checking Lando, who’s talking to Alex, now. Oscar takes his stick and scoops up a loose puck off the ice. He flips it over the barriers to you, and you catch it, shrieking at the temperature when it lands in your hand. It’s nearly as cold as the icepack you held to his face the night before.The bruise on his jaw is visible as he looks at you through the glass, but he’s smiling so wide all the same.

He yells something. You can barely hear, but between that and the lip reading you’ve learned to do after years of watching hockey, you think he says something about his “number one fan.”

You just smile and laugh and hold the puck up in the air, hoping the giddy feeling in your chest isn’t painfully obvious. He puts a glove against the plexiglass, and you place your hand there, too, and you know you can’t but you swear you feel the warmth of him. It’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. He shakes his head, then pats his hand against the clear surface, and then he takes off across the ice.

When you turn to Lily, she’s smiling knowingly. “That was…”

“Shut up,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. “I don’t wanna hear it. He just needed some encouragement.”

It seems to work. He’s on fire that night, skating across the ice like it’s exactly where he belongs. You’re proud to be there, proud to hold the poster up when he scores, proud to call yourself his friend.

After the game, you find yourself in the back hallway of the arena, waiting. You can hear the music in the locker room from here, can hear the intermittent shouting and cheering from the guys. The other team is long gone. Lily’s back at the house already, getting things ready for the inevitable big party they’ll be having after a win like this. The poster you’d made leans against the wall.

Oscar’s the one to find you. His smile seems permanently set on his face tonight. His hair’s a mess, towel dried and sticking in every direction. “You kicked ass,” you call out.

He doesn’t stop at the socially acceptable distance apart. He walks close, so close you have to lean your head back just slightly to look him in the eye, so close that you can smell his shampoo and see the freckles on his cheeks. His hands are in his pockets, and your heart is in your throat. There’s something wild in his eyes. The bruise on his jaw is dark, almost blue now, and you reach up to brush a finger against the outline of it. He blinks and pulls his hands from his pockets.

“It was nice to see you in the front row,” he says.

Your pulse is pounding. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Those tickets are expensive. Just needed to make sure you could see the sign.”

He juts his chin out. “Yeah?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah. Did it work?”

He doesn’t answer. He just reaches out, and his hand lands on your hip. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye, and you hold your breath. His eyes search your face, darting between your eyes and cheeks and lips. You lean closer, closer. His cheeks are rosy and blotchy, from the game and the post game shower and- and maybe, from this, too. Is he feeling it, too? Is his heart racing, is he holding his breath, are there butterflies swirling around in his stomach?

Just when you think you can’t hold your breath any longer, he closes the gap, pressing his lips against your cheek. You wonder if he can feel how warm your face is beneath his lips, if he can hear the way your heartbeat picks up. It’s just a kiss on the cheek, but you let your eyes fall shut anyways, let the warmth wash over you, down your spine and all the way to your fingertips and toes. This is better than a thank you, better than anything, really.

There’s a loud bang of a door being flung open, and both of you break apart in a rush. You wobble, and he does his best to keep you steady. By the time you stand up straight, the two of you are standing a respectable distance apart, and the door to the hallway swings open. It’s Carlos, first, followed by the rest of the team. You try to compose yourself. Oscar’s face is bright red.

“Bunny!” Charles calls out, eager and bright eyed. “We won!”

Oscar backs away when Charles rushes up to hug you. Nobody comments on his red cheeks, or the poster sitting at your feet. You’re sure they’d teased him about it, but they won the game, so anything that got them there is seen as a good thing. Max is the next one to wrap you up in a hug, and soon you’re being pulled along in the stream of hockey players, out towards where the rest of their friends and families wait, out towards the walk back to the house where the party will already be in motion.

“Your face paint is smudged,” Lando says, pointing at your cheek.

You laugh and brush Lando’s hand away from your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Oscar wipe his thumb on his pants, as discreetly as possible, and your heart flutters in your chest. There’s a blue streak of paint left behind on the fabric. It’s some sort of evidence that it really happened. It’s enough, for now.

Later that night, when you’re falling asleep in Lando’s room after a long night of celebrating, you think of deep blue bruises and bright blue face paint, and how much you wish you’d gotten the chance to mix them both together. It would look nice, you think, as you drift off. Paint smudged on his rosy, freckled cheeks. It would’ve been nice.

You dream of Oscar. You’re definitely not complaining.

a/n: happy oscar’s birthday to all who celebrate! 🥳

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