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hockeyshmockey · 4 days
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John Marino x Josephine Hughes AU Masterlist
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As always, this au is interactive and I always welcome asks, blurb requests, questions, etc. etc! This au does not take place in the same universe as my other ones.
Everything under this au will be tagged with 'John x Josephine'
Josephine Hughes ⋆ Born May 14th 2001, in Florida and is the twin sister of Jack Hughes ⋆ Grew up in New Hampshire, Toronto and Michigan ⋆ Went 1st overall in the PWHL 2023 draft in Toronto ⋆ Plays for the PWHL New York as a center forward (no. 86) ⋆ Played D1 college hockey at Boston University ⋆ Small (5'1), incredibly fast and feisty on the ice ⋆ Not the sharpest tool in the shed (lots of blonde jokes get thrown her way), but what she lacks in cleverness she makes up for in charm, a pretty good hockey IQ, and sunshine-ness off the ice ⋆ Favourite hobby is shopping ⋆ More about Josephine can be found here.
John Marino⋆ Born May 21st 1997, in Massachusetts ⋆ Defenseman for the New Jersey Devils ⋆ Went to Havard University, played d1 college hockey ⋆ Tall (6'1)
☆ All talk (smaller blurbs, random facts, random small talk, etc)
☆ Timeline + Longer blurbs
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hockeyshmockey · 5 days
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i love when women
walk him like a dog - ln4
⍟ lando norris x influencer!reader
⍟ little lando norris is in love and yn likes to walk him like a dog
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yn posted a story
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replies
landonorris cmon love 💔
charles_leclerc Just let him have this one
lilymhe the hand placement??? 👁️👁️
↳ yn you don’t wanna know how many times i tried to move it
hearts4lando this is so cute
alexandrasaintmleux I want what you and lando have
↳ yn don’t even 😭
carlossainz55 JUST DATE ALREADY PLEASE
-
landonorris posted a story
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replies
maxfewtrell your like her little puppy dog
↳ landonorris idc as long as im hers
yn stop this madness
↳ landonorris you know you like it babe
francisca.cgomes absolutely down bad
↳ landonorris always for her
charles_leclerc No photo credit?
↳ landonorris no you kept call me her little bitch the whole time…
↳ charles_leclerc Did I lie?
-
f1wags
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liked by landonorris and 383,072 others
f1wags Lando Norris and Yn were see getting cozy on the beach earlier today, what do we think about this? 👀
estiebestie NOT LANDO LIKING THIS 💀💀
yn NO NO NO LET ME TELL ME SOMETHING
⤷ landonorris do tell
⤷ yn ITS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE I SWEAR
hoeforsainzzz UHM HIS HAND HELLO?
lovely.leclerc friends definitely don’t get that touchy with each other 🫣
⤷ landowantrizz and they definitely don’t look at each other that 🤨
landolovesyn this is the norm for them 😭
beloved.hamilton Stop that’s so cute 🥹
sharls_lerklerk shes the nonchalant, wears the pants in the relationship, in between black swan & white swan, knows she can get whatever she wants out of him gf and he’s the chalant, will do whatever she says, puppy dog, putty in her hand with one look, can never say no, baby girl bf
⤷ yn no 👎🏽🚫🙅🚮
-
daniel3.jpg
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liked by maxverstappen1 and 925,082 others
daniel3.jpg to feed your soul
landonorris my girl
⤷ yn no stop
yn delete this now
⤷ landonorris cmon babe you know you want me as bad as i want you
⤷ hearts4lando HELLO? lando norris is the standard
lilymhe what’s that thing doing with me kika and alex’s girl
⤷ francisca.cgomes little lando thinks he can bag our girl 🤣🤣
⤷ alexandrasaintmleux he just doesn’t know when to quit
⤷ yn i know where home is 😘
⤷ charles_leclerc hello??
⤷ alex_albon i can’t do this anymore.
⤷ pierregasly tell me about it
charlesismyman69 HAND PLACEMENT IS EVERYTHINGGGG 🫦
landolovesyn they act like a couple but yn is playing SO HARD to get 😭
ethereal.yn i’m patiently waiting for lando to just hard launch one of these days (im going insane i can’t wait any longer)
⤷ landonorris same
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landonorris
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liked by carlossainz55 and 5,924,173 others
landonorris my girl, my girl, my girl ♥️ this one goes out to all you bitches that doubted me, that said i could never get someone as beautiful as yn, that told me to move on, that said i could never get her, to everyone who ever called me lando norizz i hope you bitches are weeping right now.
yn damn
⤷ landonorris you know your blushing right now don’t even
♥︎ by yn
danielricciardo Bro got the girl
⤷ oscarpiastri After 4 years
⤷ carlossainz 4 years of yappin about her
hearts4lando ik lando already bought that ring 😭
⤷ lando.norizz he’s probably had it for a few years now let’s be honest
pierregasly getting freaky on the main?
⤷ landonorris always
landolovesyn MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED 🙏🏽🙏🏽
estiebestie just fell to my knees in the middle of walmart
⤷ landonorris same
littlelandonorris lando norris the man that you are
landowantsrizz the second picture HELLOOO? 😭
⤷ lilac.leclerc the second picture? WHAT ABOUT THE FIRST PICTURE???
sharls_lerklerk i’ve been here since they first met at silverstone 😭
-
yn
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liked by zendaya and 18,024,795 others
yn my little bitch, forever & always babygirl ♥️
landonorris it’s like your life goal is to make me look like a fan
⤷ yn are you not my little bitch?
⤷ landonorris i’m whatever you want me to be baby
⤷ yn that’s what i thought
lilymhe 🐕🐕🐕
francisca.cgomes can’t believe this man child took my woman
⤷ landonorris I WON
alexandrasaimtmleux so cute…i guess
landonorris damn girl why your feet so sexy 🫦😘🥜🤤🍆🍑
carlossainz55 I thought you two getting together would mean he would finally shut up about you…I thought wrong.
⤷ oscarpiastri You think you have it bad?
ynissocutiepatootie y/n heard “walk em like a dog” once and took it to another level
hoeforsainzzz lando norris is the definition of dedication
landocanrockmyworld i love how she makes him look so tall 😭
ynownsme y/n y/l/n you will always be famous 😭
-
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hockeyshmockey · 5 days
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I’m crying I love this
Lately you've been on my mind - E. Pettersson
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I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange, with an Elias Pettersson story for @typical-simplelove! I really hope you enjoy this Claudia– I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me, and I was just so inspired that I wrote it all in one day! And thank you Demi, for being a sounding board for me as I put together my ideas.
Summary: Brock Boeser is the ultimate match maker – he knows he is. And he is determined to set his friends up.
a.k.a. you and Elias are both friends with Brock, and keep finding yourselves in moments alone.
Words: 4.9k
Warnings: idiots to lovers, self-doubt, Brock is a meddler
Title from: Adore you, by Harry Styles
~
2019 was already shaping up to be a fantastic year. The sun was shining brightly, the January air was crisp and cold, and you had Spanish Banks dog park essentially to yourself, seeing that it was excruciatingly early in the morning.
But damn if the views of the North Shore mountains weren’t worth it. Your dog seemed to agree, with the way he was running up and down the sand. You’d lived in Vancouver all your 20 years so far, still living with your parents where you’d decided not to go to university, and it was moments like this that reminded you just how fortunate you were.
Your peace and quiet lasted for all of another half an hour before you heard enthusiastic barking from behind you. Recalling your dog to your side – which only took a couple of attempts, which was an improvement – you turned your head to see what was coming your way, only to freeze at the guy you saw walking towards you.
A guy that was clearly the up-and-coming star of your family’s favourite sports team, the Vancouver Canucks. Brock Boeser, in the flesh.
“Hey, sorry for interrupting your quiet.”
His smile tightened slightly when he realised you clearly knew who he was, with whatever your face was doing, but you quickly shook your head to reassure him. No, he was here just the same as you, to walk his dog. You could be cool with that.
“It’s a beautiful off-leash park – it would be a shame not to share it,” you shrugged, smiling back at him.
Brock immediately relaxed, easy a tension you didn’t realise you had.
“Who’s this beautiful pup, hm?”
“This is Bailey. I’ve had him, like, three months now? He’s only 18 months old so he’s still learning not to jump up, but he tries his best,” you mused.
“He’s perfect…”
Yes, Brock was definitely a dog person.
“…a border collie, right?”
“Yeah that’s right. He was abandoned a few months ago at a shelter my mom volunteers at, and I barely had to beg her to let me adopt him,” you laughed.
Brock just grinned. “Coola was a rescue dog as well. I adopted him back in February last year, after the All Star Game, but he lived in Minnesota with my parents while I finished my rookie year. I know the feeling of not being able to resist a sweet little dog.”
At least he understood.
With a smile, you motioned for Bailey that he was allowed to run again, and within moments Coola was joining him, the two dogs playing in the surf.
“So, you live here then?”
You and Brock walked your dogs for nearly another hour, the two of you talking like you’d known each other all your lives, before Bailey flopped at your feet, a clear sign he was done and ready to leave.
“Looks like that’s my cue,” you said dryly, making Brock laugh.
“Definitely,” he teased, “but hey, maybe we could exchange numbers? I’d love to walk Coola with you and Bailey again, now that I know they’re friends.”
You hesitated slightly, unsure whether he actually meant that, but the earnestness in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.
“Sure, I’d like that. Bailey could use all the friends he could get,” you mused.
Brock just grinned.
“I don’t know, I have a feeling we’re going to be pretty good friends as well.”
~
Nearly five years on and you were (somehow) genuine friends with Brock. He’d been right, against all odds. There was just something about his straightforward friendship that made your life that little bit easier, knowing that you could rely on him to be a breath of fresh air, no drama. And you knew he appreciated your chilled approach to pretty much everything, never judging him, always his biggest supporter – both on the team and for him as a person. Brock Boeser was probably one of the best friends you’d ever had, and you cherished everything about him, like an older brother you didn’t realise you needed.
Brock had always insisted that you needed to be integrated into every part of his life, so you spent more time with his team than you ever thought you would (and hadn’t that been a starstruck moment, when you’d first attended a team gathering). He pretty much brought you to all gatherings, events, and anything to do with Coola (and now Milo), and while at first it had been overwhelming, you’d quickly adjusted when you realised just how ridiculous his teammates were.
So it wasn’t a surprise to Elias Pettersson when he walked into Brock’s house and saw you sitting on the sofa surrounded by dogs.
“Well this looks cosy.”
You grinned at his teasing words, waving him over. “It’s good to see you too, Elias.”
He shared a small private smile with you, lifting Milo’s legs to take a seat on the sofa next to you. The dog in question huffed out his displeasure but didn’t move, allowing Elias to settle in properly.
This guy, more than anyone else, was the teammate you enjoyed spending the most time with alongside Brock. Elias was definitely the most sane of all Brock’s Vancouver friends, and his dry sense of humour always had you in stitches. It was rare that he showed much of himself to anyone, as reserved as he was, but the more you’d gotten to know him over the years, the more you recognised the little signs of his reactions and collated them like hoarded treasure. And the more that Elias had gotten to know you, the more willing he seemed to be to share jokes and smiles and laughter with you, forging a friendship of your own.
And yes, sure, you couldn’t deny that you found him attractive – you’d be crazy or blind to think otherwise - but he’d never shown a hint of interest towards you in that way. And there was no way you’d ever say anything unless you were sure things were reciprocated (there was just no way), so you were more than happy to have him as a friend. Elias Pettersson was an unmistakeable joy in your life, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin that.
He really was so handsome though.
“I’m surprised Brock isn’t buried under puppies like usual,” Elias said.
“We haven’t been long back from walking the dogs, so I said I’d get them settled while he showered and got ready to head out with you,” you explained, running your hand over your Bailey’s head.
“He does need to look pretty enough to leave the house, that’s true,” he mused.
You couldn’t help but laugh, the both of you knowing Brock needed no help in looking pretty, Elias just smiling widely.
It just goes to show how wrapped up you were in Elias’s attention that neither of you noticed Brock standing at the bottom of the stairs, eyes lighting up at your laughter and Elias’s smile.
~
It was early, far too early, but here you were fulfilling Bailey’s every need. You were wrapped up warm, puffer jacket, woollen hat, gloves, and scarf, walking your border collie through Hadden Park, allowing the travel mug of coffee to wake you up fully while you took in the views surrounding you. Bailey was in his element, trotting about and sniffing every single leaf and twig, and it was only your phone buzzing that broke you out of your silent contentment.
From: Brock Hey, are you walking Bailey?
To: Brock Yeah we’re at Hadden Park Wasn’t sure if you would be getting up early after your game last night so I didn’t text
From: Brock Hah yeah fair enough Do you mind if Petey comes along?
You tried not to fantasise about why Elias was so willing to join you both on a dog walk, so early on a day off. You tried so hard.
To: Brock Of course I don’t mind
From: Brock Of course?
You felt heat dancing across your cheeks. Damn it Brock.
To: Brock You know I think Petey is great.
From: Brock Well I definitely do now.
You groaned, already able to picture the smirk on your friend’s face.
To: Brock Don’t be dumb I’ll see you soon
The last thing you needed was Brock teasing you, especially in front of Elias. The last thing you wanted was Elias to feel uncomfortable around you, just because you find him attractive. The last thing you could bear would be if you lost your friendship with Elias just because Brock was reading into things that weren’t true.
But there was nothing you could do for damage control until Brock was in front of you. All you could hope was that he didn’t make you look like an idiot.
It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes before you saw the familiar pair walking towards you, dogs at Brock’s side, and you found yourself smiling despite your trepidation. You gave them both hugs in greeting, travel mug long empty and placed in your bag, Bailey barking happily.
“What a beautiful morning,” Brock said happily.
“Cold but beautiful, sure,” you mused.
Elias nodded his agreement, thick scarf wrapped in loops around him, Brock just laughing.
“Petey, you don’t mind taking Coola while I walk Milo, do you?” Brock asked.
Elias narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read into Brock’s words, but Brock just kept smiling at him.
“Sure, I can walk Coola,” Elias eventually said.
“Great!”
The moment that Coola’s leash was in Elias’s hands, Coola darted forward, Elias crashing directly into your body. It was only through his quick reflexes that you didn’t end up on your ass, his hands clutching at your hips while you clung to his jacket.
“Coola! Chill!”
Brock’s giggled words did little to calm his dog down, all three dogs dancing around your feet as Elias steadied you. His face was impossibly close to yours, breath practically mingling. How had you not realised how blue his eyes were before this? His lips were parted slightly, as if he was still processing, but it was only when Bailey bumped into both of your legs that he abruptly let you go, and you dropped your hands too.
“Sorry, sorry,” he blurted, stepping away sharply.
“No apologies needed. It wasn’t your fault,” you said, shaking your head with a weak smile.
“Aww you can’t blame Coola for being excited,” Brock grinned, kneeling down to give fuss to both his dogs.
There was something in his smile that you just couldn’t put your finger on. Hm.
“Shall we walk then, if they’re so excited?” Elias said dryly.
All three dogs started barking at the word ‘walk’, making you laugh and nod, Brock just grinning even wider.
~
From: Brock Petey is taking the roadtrip losses really hard. Come over tomorrow?
~
You don’t know what it was that possessed you, but the moment you received those texts from Brock, you knew you had to do something. Elias was such a stoic guy, so reserved in his emotions, so the fact that it was obvious enough he was suffering that Brock asked for your help? There was no way you weren’t going to do everything in your power to ease any tensions they had, especially Elias.
There wasn’t much you could do, but you could do this.
When you arrived at Brock’s house the next morning, you were only mildly startled to see Elias opening the door instead of Brock, his eyes flashing in surprise before he smiled.
“Did Brock not say I was coming over?” you said hesitantly.
The last thing you wanted was to intrude.
“He said we were going for brunch, but this is a welcome surprise,” Elias said, smiling softly.
Oh. Now you felt stupid.
Wait, a welcome surprise?
“I don’t know what is making your face do that, but I’m not lying when I say it’s good to see you,” Elias said firmly.
“Alright, I believe you,” you mused.
Elias just grinned, walking over to the bottom of the staircase.
“SHE’S HERE!”
“GOOD! YOU’RE COMING FOR BRUNCH, RIGHT?”
You rolled your eyes fondly at Brock’s assumptions. It wasn’t like you had much else planned for today, but still!
“YEAH I’LL COME!”
Elias laughed at your matching volume, making you smile back at him, a light flush dusting across your cheeks. His laugh was magical and you weren’t going to shame yourself for liking it.
“Brock’s just finishing his hair and then he’ll be down. That’s what he said anyway,” Elias explained, sitting down on the arm of Brock’s sofa.
“He’s got an image to maintain, can’t be looking anything less than perfect,” you teased, the familiar joke making you smile.
Elias just snickered, shaking his head. You leaned up against the back of the sofa, standing close enough to Elias that the blue of his eyes was almost hypnotising, before you remembered why you came over in the first place.
“It feels a little silly now, but I heard from a little bird that you were taking things a little rough, so here’s a little something,” you said.
“Brock needs to keep his mouth shut,” he grumbled.
You just laughed, reaching into your bag to pull out the gift. But as you placed it in his hands, Elias froze.
“What’s this?” Elias said, eyes wide in shock.
You bit your bottom lip, before letting out a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.
“You were having a bad day. So I made you a hat,” you said simply, trying to keep your voice light and airy.
“You made me a hat? You knitted this?”
Elias stared down in wonder at the soft light blue woollen bundle in his hand, a look of pure astonishment on his face. It was only then that you realised how close it was to the colour of his eyes.
“Uh, yes, I did? I got back into knitting recently, so it’s nothing fancy, but I just wanted to make something to cheer you up?” you said, trying not to cringe at yourself.
“No-one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
Your lips parted in surprise at his soft words.
“Really?”
“Really really,” Elias nodded.
“I’ve never had a hat made for me either.”
You flinched at the sound of Brock’s voice coming from behind you, Elias immediately scowling over your shoulder.
“Wouldn’t want to cover up your Prince Charming hair,” Elias grumbled, shoving the hat into the pocket of his hoodie.
You didn’t mention the dark blue hat you’d knitted for Brock that was tucked into your bag. Brock pouted as you snickered, slinking into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone again.
“Look, I know it’s not really my place. And that we’re just friends because of Brock. But these losses were just a bad blip – you’re going to get over them in no time at all, and be back to destroying the other teams like you were born to,”
Elias smiled wryly. “It doesn’t feel like that right now. But thanks.”
You pursed your lips briefly before huffing out a breath. Telling him what you really thought was hardly the most embarrassing thing you’d ever done.
“You make me so proud. You know that, right?”
“What?” Elias frowned.
“You go out there, every single day, and give this team, this city, your all. Your pour yourself into everything that you do, always give 100%, and as your friend, as someone who has known you for years…I am so proud of you.”
As your cheeks heated from your words, Elias swallowed heavily, a flush dusting across his own cheeks.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, to deserve your kind words, but I appreciate it. Thank you,” he murmured.
Your heartbeat raced at the intensity in his eyes.
“Brunch? Can we go?”
Elias scowled again at Brock’s grinning interruption but walked away towards the front door. You were read to grumble at Brock yourself, until you saw Elias pull the knitted hat out of his pocket and slide it on over his hair. It looked…perfect.
“Are you good?” Brock asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I’m great.”
Your voice was far breathier than you would ever admit.
*
Another month, another team event. This time Brock had invited you to be his plus one to a formal gala, hardly the first time he had asked and yet this time he practically begged you to come along. You didn’t need him to beg, you could admit that much – the events were always fun and hey, you got to dress up nicely – but his behaviour was strange, even for him.
Either way, Brock had looked ecstatic when you said yes, even going as buying you a gorgeous midnight blue evening gown, sleeveless and high-necked, as classy as it was beautiful, so you were going to complain. He could have his secrets – you knew you’d get it out of him eventually.
He picked you up after you’d gotten your hair and nails done, make-up subtle but elegant, wide smile on his face as he drove the two of you to the event. You didn’t have time to be suspicious about his good mood as the two of you greeted his teammates and their better halves, your attention consumed by all the cheek kisses and compliments, but you should’ve known he was up to something. Because the moment that the two of you joined Elias at a table with a few chairs around it, Brock all but disappeared, leaving the two of you completely alone.
“Hi Brock. Bye Brock,” Elias said dryly.
“I have no idea what’s gotten into him tonight, I am so sorry,” you sighed.
“Hey, no, don’t apologise for him. I’m sorry that he’s abandoned you already,” Elias said, frowning.
“Well at least I’m near a chair,” you said, huffing out a laugh, “High heels are not my friends.”
Elias immediately pulled a chair out for you to sit on, and you felt a gentle heat brush across your cheeks at the gentlemanly action.
“Thanks Elias,” you said, more shocked than anything.
Not too shocked to smile at him as he sat down right next to you, after picking up a couple of flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. If he wanted to join you…well, you weren’t going to complain. Not if you got his attention all to yourself.
It can’t have been more than an hour before Brock wandered back over, but by the flush on his cheeks and the glassiness of his eyes, he was more than a little tipsy. Damn it Brock.
“You’re not going to ask this beautiful woman to dance, Petey?”
Elias immediately blushed furiously, eyes narrowing at his friend, making you want to die a little inside – but also to shield him.
“Oh no, these heels are killing my feet already. Elias is just being kind enough to keep me company,” you said sweetly.
Brock snickered, shaking his head, but walked away without any further pestering. You both sat there for a moment in silence, reeling from the short conversation. What the hell was that, Brock?
“You didn’t have to make up a lie to defend me,” Elias said, finally looking at you again.
“I wanted to.”
The mortification that filled your body upon your blurted words was immediate and all-consuming, especially with how surprised Elias looked. How could you save this? How the hell could you save this?
“Besides it’s the least I could do for Brock dumping me on you in the first place,” you said coolly, shrugging, trying to calm yourself down and failing miserably.
Elias hesitated before something flashed across his face, and he looked at you with an expression you’d never seen from him before. It made you shiver. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Oh.
Oh.
He…really?
You’d spent so long convinced that he didn’t see you that way, that he wasn’t attracted to you in the slightest, and now that he’d said this? Giving you enough to let yourself hope, to admit to yourself that your sweetest daydreams and deepest fantasies could actually be reality?
While your mind raced, full of swirling realisations that perhaps things weren’t so unrequited after all, Elias just watched you, expression just as intense as before. It wasn’t until you let out a shaky breath, smiling a tiny smile at him, that he nodded, clearing his throat.
“Another drink?”
“Yes, definitely.”
*
Movie nights were sacred. It didn’t matter who they were with, not really, but now that you had your own tiny apartment, a night in watching your favourite movies and eating your favourite snacks was always the best way to unwind. Usually Brock was your only companion, or Brock with a few of his teammates, and that was the plan tonight. Brock and Elias were both joining you for a movie night and you couldn’t wait to have a chilled night in with two of your favourite people. Even if your whole world had been shaken up only last week at that eventful team gala.
The pizzas you’d ordered hadn’t long arrived before Elias arrived at your door, beers in hand, and you let him in with a happy smile.
“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, smiling shyly back at you.
Your breath caught in your throat at the sweetness in his face, and you found yourself just nodding.
“You know you’re always welcome. Come on, pizza just got here too.”
Elias all but raced you to the kitchen, making you laugh as he opened the cardboard lids. But your phone buzzed before you could reach for a slice.
From: Brock I can’t make it tonight. Have fun. Both of you.
You heart started racing at his implications, knowing deep in your bones that Brock never intended to come this evening. Had he known all along, how you felt about Elias? And how you hoped Elias felt for you too?
Surely not.
But then again, Brock always surprised you. You had always tried not to underestimate your friend, but it appeared that you’d fallen for that sweet innocent smile just the same as everyone else.
“Is Brock on his way?”
“Brock isn’t coming.”
“Oh.”
Elias seemed to hesitate, making you inhale sharply.
“Did you want to reschedule?” he asked, wincing.
You could be brave, right? Or at least take a step towards bravery?
“You’re already here…so we can still have our own movie night?” you suggested, unable to stop yourself from chewing your bottom lip.
Elias’s eyes flickered down quickly towards your mouth, before he cleared his throat and smiled softly at you. “Yeah, of course we can. Also means we don’t have to listen to Brock whining that we aren’t watching one of his rom com choices.”
The dryness of his tone made you giggle, immediately cutting through the lingering awkward tension. You could absolutely do a movie night just with Elias. You could absolutely handle being alone with him like this.
Absolutely.
The two of you ploughed through the pizzas while you watched one of you go-to action movies, laughing and talking all the way through, even finishing the popcorn and a couple of beers each by the time the credits were rolling. Bailey had happily sat by your feet the whole time, actually behaving himself for once, and you couldn’t remember a time when you’d felt so content. So relaxed and happy. Brock had always brought that out in you, and now that Elias had too? It just filled you with butterflies in the best way.
“Shall we watch another?”
“Definitely,” you nodded, smiling up at him.
Elias smiled easily back. “You choose? I’ll clear up.”
Before you could protest or even help him, Elias had picked up both pizza boxes and all the empty beer bottles, leaving you alone on the sofa. You heard him opening the trash can, snapping you out of your surprise, so you started scrolling through Netflix again, eventually deciding on a light-hearted comedy just as Elias re-entered the room. Bailey had trotted out to his own bed when Elias left, so it really was just the two of you now.
Something that made your breath hitch in your throat was the way that Elias sat down closer to you this time. Unmistakably closer, close enough to feel the heat from his body and to smell his cologne. He did that on purpose, there was no doubt about it. But his face gave you no answers, nothing more than his usual smile around you, so you let it go. Overthinking things was definitely not the way to go, you knew that much.
It didn’t make your heartrate calm down at all though.
You pressed play to get the movie started, lightly tossing the tv remote onto your coffee table before settling back into the sofa, letting the familiar introduction wash over you.
It took ten minutes for everything to change.
Elias wasn’t a big hugger. You knew this. Brock knew this. The whole of the Vancouver Canucks knew this. So when you felt a pressure along your shoulders, you tried not to flinch, realising it was his arm stretching across the back of the sofa when his hand lightly brushed your opposite shoulder. Elias…Elias had put his arm around you. He’d put his arm around you? You glanced up at him, trying to get any sense of his thought process, but his eyes were resolutely glued to the television, his body a frozen line of tension. All over again, your heart started racing. You were right after all. Maybe…maybe Elias really did have feelings for you, just as he’d finally hinted at the team event, and now he was making a gentle move in the most Petey way ever.
The ball was in your court.
Ever so slowly, you relaxed against under his arm, sinking into his side, head resting on his chest. You could hear just how fast his own heart was racing and it made you smile, feeling giddy that he was just as affected as you were, even more so when his arm draped around you properly. This was really happening. Elias Pettersson had really instigated snuggling with you on the sofa. This was better than any dream you could’ve imagined.
The next thing you knew, you were blinking your eyes open. The sky outside was pitch black, the curtains still wide open, and the Netflix landing page was glaring bright. But the main thing you noticed? You were curled up against Elias’s side still, head resting on his chest, his arm having fallen down to your waist and his head lolling back on the sofa. You’d fallen asleep together? Was there anything more cliché than that? Still, it felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest with how right it felt to be in Elias’s hold. His hands were so large and so warm, the heat spreading through the contact on top of your sweatpants. His chest was so solid and calming under your cheek. And as you lifted your head, ever to slightly to look at him properly, even just through the light from the TV he looked so handsome. Beautiful and peaceful. But there was no way that could be comfortable for him, and the last thing you wanted was for an aching neck to put a damper on what was the perfect evening.
So you lightly rested your hand on his chest, shaking him gently until you heard him grunt in displeasure.
“Hey, Elias, we fell asleep on the sofa,” you murmured.
He immediately groaned, making you laugh softly, smiling at him as he finally lifted his head.
“I was having such a good dream,” he grumbled.
Then he seemed to freeze as he realised where he actually was, taking note of how you were still tucked into his side, and where his arm and hand were holding you.
“Damn it, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Hey, no, we both fell asleep eh?” you said, interrupting with a smile and a shake of your head, “It’s fine, Elias. We were both cosy.”
He swallowed heavily before nodding.
“I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep on the sofa with someone before,” he mumbled, “It was…nice.”
You felt your cheeks heating up with the gentle compliment, your smile letting him know you felt the same.
“I should go,” he said softly.
No!
Well, now was your moment. Now was the time to be brave where you’d never needed to be so brave before. After everything that had been building between the two of you…now was the moment.
“Or, maybe you could stay, and we could talk in the morning,” you offered as calmly as you could.
You felt Elias inhale sharply where your hand was still resting on his chest.
“The kind of talk that I’ve been wanting to have for a while?” he asked, hope evident in his eyes.
Oh wow.
For a while?
You felt like you were floating as his words sunk in.
“Yeah I think we’re on the same page,” you murmured, your blood thrumming with possibility.
The smile that spread across Elias’s face made your heart soar, and you found yourself smiling just as widely back. And when he leant forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead, you’d never felt more alive.
You could only imagine Brock’s satisfied grin when you told him.
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hockeyshmockey · 6 days
Text
Oh yeah sure ok HEARTBREAK
── ˙ ̟ 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 !! ᴼᴾ⁸¹
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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) :: oscar piastri x schumacher ! fem ! reader
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 :: in which her rookie boyfriend takes away her dream and shatters her in the process
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 4.0k
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𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧...
YOU HAD ALWAYS KNOWN that Oscar had a raw talent for motorsports. It was clear in his journey through F3, and then through F2, where he now dominated with six wins, five podiums, and five consecutive poles. You had become interested in his journey, and in him, during the start of his F2 career, supporting him in papaya as much as you could with being a full-time driver for McLaren and maintaining your seat in F1.
Being a nepotism baby in the sport meant raised expectations, standards of perfection set by predecessors that weren't always achievable. Especially not for a pair of siblings who couldn't even look at an F1 car without being reminded of their father and grieving him all over again. Michael Schumacher was a legacy in the world of Formula 1, with seven World Championships and a sense of ambition that exceeded anything anybody had ever seen before. That's why being a nepotism baby, especially the daughter of Michael Schumacher, was the hardest thing you had ever had to endure.
𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬...
Although, perhaps that's a lie. Perhaps your brother, Mick, has it easier than you do - being a male in a male-dominated sport. But no, you were the only female on the grid in decades, the only female driver to score points in a Grand Prix in decades. The consistent condescension of being a woman in a "men's sport" was the hardest thing you had ever had to endure, and there was no doubt you would be forced to endure it anyway, the child of F1 legend Michael Schumacher or not. Then, perhaps Mick has it easy. Sure, you weren't McLaren's primary driver, but you had worked harder than anyone for your seat on the grid. Being a secondary driver was betting than being on track to being a reserve one, or so Mick is quick to tell you.
By no means were you an exceptional driver. Talented, sure. But not the level of talent people expected from a Schumacher. Fans would blame it on the car, critics would blame it on you - for being a woman in a men's sport, for being a nepotism baby, for being a child way in over her head and desperate to live up to her father's legacy. Mick never got the same criticism, despite the similarities in your performance whenever you were both on the track. Your performance had it's highs and lows, it would dip in a pattern towards the end of the season, when the anniversary of your father's accident was on the horizon. Your start to the season was always horrific, commencing around the months of your father's birthday that left your head swirling with memories and regrets and knowing he would want you to thrive in Formula 1. The rest of the season you were stuck playing catch up. Sure, you scored points in pretty much every race with only one DNF - but it didn't matter. You were a Schumacher, more was expected of you.
𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞...
The Canadian Grand Prix had been absolutely abysmal. A collision with your brother in his Haas meant a DNF for the pair of you. June was normally the month in which you scored the most points, being far enough from both your father's birthday and the anniversary of his accident to distract you. Mick had turned into you on Turn 1 and couldn't apologise enough for taking you out before either of you had a decent chance in the race.
You allowed yourself to be checked out by the medics. The longer you managed to keep away from the press, the better. Upon your return to the McLaren garage, you snuck back into your driver’s room, careful not to be spotted by the press. The last thing you needed was the narrative of Michael Schumacher’s daughter running away from the press like a scared little girl after a dreadful DNF in the Canadian GP. There was no doubt in your mind that they would somehow find a way to blame you for the crash instead of Mick. It was always your fault, you were the intruder, the alien in the male-dominated sport. You can practically hear the cruel jibes now, echoing in the silence of your driver’s room.
This is why we don’t let women drive.
𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐲...
A knock forced you to swallow the growing lump that had been forming in your throat and dry the tears that were beginning to escape your eyes. Your body sagged in relief when your boyfriend's voice echoed through the silence of your driver's room. "Can I come in?"
Oscar must've taken your silence as approval as he opened the door, in his papaya-coloured shirt that bared your number and your name. It took two strides for you to be pressed into his chest, one of his arms wrapping low around your waist, where you had tied your fireproofs. The other hand smoothed the top of your hair, fingertips grazing your scalp as his mere presence calmed you.
"Hi Osc," You managed to mumble into his chest after a few moments of silence. Oscar gently lifted your head from his chest and pressed his slightly chapped lips to yours. Once. Twice. And again and again until you started to smile. He didn't mind the salty taste of your dried tears, he just wanted you.
"You did so well, baby," said Oscar, his Aussie accent prominent after spending some time with his family down under. His hand threaded through your hair, and you pecked his lips again.
"Don't lie to me," You let out a bitter laugh. One that made your heart clench in pain, the same pain that seemed to ricochet through your chest every time you breathed. The only thing that helped? Being with Oscar. Your Osc. "It was shit."
𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐲...
"It wasn't your fault-" He tried to reassure you, but you knew he didn't get it.
"Tell the press that," You shook your head, knowing full well that as sweet and compassionate as Oscar was, he would never understand the hardships of being a woman in motorsport, especially the pressures that came with being the daughter of a motorsport legend. "Not only is it the Schumacher siblings, but it's me, the female driver, that they think caused the crash."
"I'm sure Mick will say something," Oscar mumbled into your hairline, stroking down the expanse of your back.
"We both know he won't," You shook your head. Your brother was never one to accept responsibility for his actions. And even if he did, the press would still find a way to blame it on you. That your brother accepted responsibility in order to protect his weak sister who can't handle the pressures of Formula 1. They'd see you as weak, and the last thing you needed was to be seen as a damsel in distress, to be seen as too emotional, too much of a woman.
"I'm sorry."
The lump that you had tried so hard to swallow down had now returned and made it hard to breath. "I know Osc, I'm just so tired."
You were tired of changing everything about yourself to try and fit in with the other male drivers on the grid, you were tired of you self-worth being determined by how well you performed in your races, you were tired of shattering yourself into a million pieces while trying to live up to your father's reputation. You were tired of your shitty team and your shitty car and your shitty, shitty emotions.
"I know baby, I know," Oscar was the only person who saw the real you, who saw your expectations of yourself and what they did to your mental health. He once compared you to a mirrorball, a sphere of shattered glass that still somehow managed to reflect light. Although now, you were beginning to feel like if you shattered yourself one more time, there would be no coming back from it.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," You pressed the edges of your fireproofs under your eyes, catching the tears that had accumulated and were now threatening to fall. "You're the only person that truly supports me here, I think the rest of them just play nice until my back's turned."
"You don't have to worry about them. You'll always have me and I will always support you no matter what happens," Oscar kissed your head gently before allowing you to curl further up inside his arms. The two of you stayed there, in silence, until your PR Manager came knocking at your door. Oscar was the one to wipe the tears from your eyes and hold the bottle of water to your lips as you took a few sips.
𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐳𝐞...
"I'll see you back at the hotel?" You looked up at him with so much earnest in your eyes that Oscar felt his chest tighten. It was so easy for him to see how much you loved him, in the little ways and in the way you never wanted to leave his side. All you wanted was to retreat back to your hotel and have a night of peace with your loving boyfriend.
"Yeah," Oscar nodded half-heartedly, trying to hide a grimace at the idea of being alone with you for an extended period of time. Oscar thought the world of you. You were his biggest supporter, his biggest defender, his very best friend and the love of his life all crammed together into a beautiful woman with an even more beautiful soul. He just wasn't sure how much longer he could spend around you without letting the cat out the bag.
Every time you looked at him, with all the love and affection that your eyes could possibly hold, Oscar felt his chest tighten to the point where he couldn't break. Like he had betrayed his heart and in revenge, it refused to pump blood around the rest of his body. He felt like his heart was physically breaking in two. And the guilt was beginning to swallow him whole. He didn't know how much longer he could go without telling you, but he also had no idea what you would do when you found out what he had done. How he had betrayed you.
"I love you," You looked back at him before closing the door, not noticing the way Oscar shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, a habit he only did when he was nervous about something. Your PR manager immediately bombarded you with questions so that you couldn't focus on the fact that Oscar, your Osc, had not responded to you, and chose to stay silent with his eyes fixated on the ground. You knew he loved you, and chalked it up to worry about his upcoming race, and to your fate in the post-race interviews that were about to commence. You were aware that people didn't think you were good enough for Formula 1, but at least you were good enough for Oscar.
𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞...
Back in your driving room, Oscar cursed under his breath, wishing that he had seen you before the race, before he had spoken to the McLaren team. And especially before he had signed to be their driver for the 2023 season.
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𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐡, 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫...
Oscar woke to the sun beating through the half-drawn curtains, squinting his eyes at the brightness that had invaded your hotel room. The sunlight illuminated the room, bathing it in an peaceful glow. He reached out an arm to your side of the bed, only to have it hit the empty mattress that was cold to the touch. Your glasses were no longer on the nightstand and your laundry from the previous days had been picked up off the floor.
He sat up, listening carefully for any sound of movement within the room. The only audible noise was the constant buzzing of his phone that had been left on the cabinet beside the bed. Oscar retrieved his phone and switched it on, only to find that he had been mentioned, tagged, messaged and outed on ever social media platform he can think of. He had several messages from his friends, his fellow F2 drivers, his PR manager and even his mother.
It didn't take him long to figure out what had happened.
The news was out.
And you knew.
𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐬...
He scrambled out of bed, clad only in a pair of pyjama pants and rushed so quickly out of the hotel bedroom that he failed to notice the absence of your things. Your perfume, the book you had been reading together, your clothes, your suitcase. Any trace that your and Oscar had been residing together in the hotel room had gone.
The door slammed behind him as he entered the main portion of the hotel room, the little lounge area where you sat on the chair furthest away from the bedroom, phone in hand, suitcase next to you and tear tracks on your face.
𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧' 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧' 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮...
"Is it true?" You didn't even look up from your phone, continuing to scroll through twitter and read the replies to the viral tweet that had announced the end of your F1 career before you had even known about it yourself.
His mouth opened and closed, repeating this several times before staying silent for a few moments, as though he was calculating in his head what to say to repair the damage he had caused. "You have to understand-"
"No, Oscar, I don't," You chuckled under your breath, shaking your head at the boy you thought to be your entire word, your endgame. You looked at the tweet again. "Is. It. True?"
"It's complicated," Oscar nodded his head, causing you to scoff and place your phone down on the table in front of you so that you didn't somehow end up throwing it at your boyfriend's head. You should have known better than to get involved with another driver. Your father always warned you as such when you were little and you saw the damage it did to your parent's marriage before the accident. Formula 1 was ruthless and cutthroat, falling in love with someone didn't make them any less capable of betrayal. You and Oscar were living proof of that.
"You took my seat," You swallowed, the reality of your boyfriend's actions now hitting you in full force. Your own team didn't even have the balls to tell you that you weren't good enough for them, and so they replaced you with your rookie boyfriend. Your rookie boyfriend who hadn't even told you that your team had approached him and allowed you to find out that he was the one who had brought your career to a screeching halt through a viral tweet by F1News.
"No-"
"Then what is this?" You picked up your phone and made your way towards him, shoving the screen into his field of view with the tweet that announced his future with McLaren and decimated yours within a few words.
"I thought I'd have more time to talk to you before they announced it," He shuffled his weight awkwardly, from one foot to the other. The very same way he had done yesterday in your driver's room, right after he told you that he believed in you and that everything would be okay. How ironic.
"How long has this been a possibility?" You weren't sure whether you wanted to know the answer. The only thing you were sure about was that the truth would hurt more. You needed to know how long your boyfriend had been lying to your face about McLaren's proposal and how long he had known about your career coming to an end. You both knew that no other team would touch a female driver, let alone an average one with the surname Schumacher.
"I only signed with them a week ago, I swear," Oscar said and you bit your lip to avoid barking back a laugh at his weak attempt to defend himself and his actions. Guilt was beginning to weigh down on his chest, crushing his ribs and putting pressure on his heart. Although perhaps that was the shattering realisation that nothing was ever going to be the same with you. And that it was all his fault. You gave him a hard look, that simultaneously begged for him to tell you the truth. Oscar sighed, and the truth came flooding from his mouth, breaking his newly-signed contract. "McLaren approached me a few months ago and made me sign an NDA until we had confirmed...it."
"Oh," You choked out.
"What was I supposed to do? This is my dream," Oscar had that look in his eyes that made you fall in love with him. The one that demonstrated the pure passion and drive that he had for the sport. You just wished that this ambition didn't come at your expense. He stepped closer to you, reaching out to take your hand, to comfort you, to apologise.
You flinched away from his touch, as though his skin would burn yours if the pair of you came in contact. Hurt flashed across his eyes but it was nothing to the hammering pain you were feeling inside your chest as your heart tore in two. As Oscar tore your heart in two.
"You want to talk to me about dreams?" Your eyes shimmered in the sunlight, but not in the way Oscar would've liked. Not with the love and admiration in which you once would look at him, not with happiness at his kisses or attention. Just pure betrayal. "What about our dream? What about being drivers together on the grid, possibly being teammates one day, sharing podiums and post-race interviews? Where did all that go?"
You didn't even feel capable of crying. You felt like the lump in your throat would expand to the point where you wouldn't be able to breathe anymore. He once compared you to a mirrorball, a sphere of shattered glass that still somehow managed to reflect light. Although now, you were beginning to feel like you had shattered all over again and that shattered glass was piercing your lungs every time you attempted to breathe.
𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥…
"I still want that, we can still have that."
His name slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. "Oscar-"
"No, you don't call me that, you never call me that," He shook his head repeatedly as though he refused to come to terms with the fact that he was just Oscar to you now. No more pretty boy, no more papaya boy, no more baby, no more Osc - just Oscar. Just Oscar and Y/N, not Oscar and Y/N.
"I don't even know who you are anymore."
That pained him more than anything you could have said to him.
"I'm Osc, I'm your Osc. Just like I've always been," He tried to reach for your hand again, as though it was a final attempt to get you to realise how sorry he was. He didn't want to lose you. "You can find another team! We can still have our dream, we can figure things out,"
"There's nothing to figure out," You raised your voice, your ability to hold yourself together and remain calm was beginning. The tears began to escape, no matter how hard you tried to hold then back. "You took my seat! You took my dream away from me, knowing how hard I had to work to even get this far in a men’s sport."
"If I hadn't signed that contract, someone else would have. Another rookie, maybe even another driver," Oscar protested, not realising that he had just revealed that McLaren would've gotten rid of you at the end of the season whether he had accepted the offer or not. Even still, he shouldn't have betrayed you.
"At least that other rookie or other driver wouldn't have been my boyfriend," You smiled weakly at him. You wanted nothing more than to forgive him, to move on and pretend that this had never happened, that he hadn't just shattered your dream to preserve his own. But you couldn't. Formula 1 had been your life from a very young age, and now, Oscar had ripped all of it away from you over the course of a few months and a web of lies and deceit that you would never be able to forgive him for.
"You need to go-" You tried to tell him.
"Y/N, please, we can fix this. Please."
"No we can't," You shook your head, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks as you came to the two daunting realisations and they hit you full force. This was the end of your Formula 1 career. And this was the end of your relationship. "I'm happy that you finally got to achieve your dream Oscar, I hope you don't regret shattering mine for a shot in a sub-par team."
Oscar swallowed the lump in his own throat. "What does this mean?"
"It means I want you to leave," You told him, knowing that this was the end. "I need you to leave."
"I love you," He pleaded with you, but your decision had already been made. Those words didn’t seem to mean very much to you anymore. They just sounded like an empty promise. The same way your dad’s words did when he told you that you were enough and that you could make it in the world of motorsports.
"If you did, you wouldn't have taken this away from me," You couldn't even look at him without your heart clenching painfully. He had damaged you in a way that you didn't think you would ever be able to repair.
"Will I still see you around the paddock? I don't know I'm going to do it without you," A tear fell from his face as he tried to imagine his career in Formula 1 without you by his side. You had been his everything, his number one fan, his training partner. You had showed up to every race you could and dealt with his panic attacks. You had helped him realise his self-worth and how incredible of a driver he was. Although, now that didn't seem like such a good idea on your part. Oscar could survive not being with you, but he wasn't sure he could survive not seeing you ever again if you chose to not return to the paddock.
"You'll learn. Goodbye, Oscar," You clenched your suitcase handle in your hand and made your way out of the hotel room. You didn't look back at him, but you heard his string of apologies as he attempted to reach you before the door closed.
He didn't.
𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧.
You were aware that people didn't think you were good enough for Formula 1, and now you agreed with them. You used to think you were good enough for Oscar, now you believed that to be a lie too. And it shattered you into a million pieces that you thought no one would be able to put back together.
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𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: hey everyone !! hope you enjoyed the first imagine on this blog. i'm not sure whether to do a part two where we get to see y/n in her reputation era and coming back to absolutely destroy the grid, some grovelling from oscar. would she forgive him? let me know what you think !!
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hockeyshmockey · 6 days
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Carlos Sainz Instagram Edit
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Carlos x OC!Miss Colombia
Ignore my bad google translate thx
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liked by landonorris, alexandrastmleux and 1,420,293 others
paoladiaz lo mejor de ser miss colombia es poder ayudar a la comunidad que me crió (the best thing about being miss Colombia is being able to help the community that made me)
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user la princesa del pueblo de colombia🫶🏻 (the people’s princess of colombia)
user why is lando norizz here… mans has no SHOT
user Paola is friends with Carlos’ sisters I think, so they may have ran into each other at some point
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liked by missuniverse, f1wags and 1,284,393 others
location Mexico City, Mexico
paoladiaz Me encantó explorar México con amigos y, por supuesto, ver algunos autos dando vueltas (loved getting to explore Mexico with friends and of course watch some cars drive in circles)
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user I love that the girls are friends outside the competitions :)
user the way paola was the girls tour guide in the paddock
user ok she seemed very familiar… I didn’t know she’d been to more than like two races before?
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liked by f1gossip, misscolombiafans and 390,291 others
Kymillan this weekend at the Mexico GP, the paddock was graced by a group of Miss Universe contestants. Fans may remember that this is not Paola Diaz’s first GP attendance, as she has attended both the Spanish GP and Monaco GP as Aston Martin and Ferrari guests respectively
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f1wagupdates as many saw this weekend Paola Diaz was back in the paddock with some of her fellow miss universe contestants. Rumors have circled her for a bit, seeing some casual interactions with drivers and low key GP attendances.
This weekend brought more interesting moments as while her fellow contestants spent the weekend in the Red Bull Garage, who hosted the group, Paola spent her weekend in the Ferrari garage. Can this be chalked up to her friendship with the Sainz sisters? Or is more going on here?
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user have you seen how Carlos looks at her? That man is in love
user tbt to that one Ferrari vid where Charles made Carlos admit paola was his celebrity crush and his sisters aired him out on instagram 😭
user don’t mind me just thinking about that time Paola was seen out shopping with Reyes in Madrid and they were giving MIL and DIL behavior
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Liked by charlesleclerc, paolasnumber1, and 1,728,035 others
carlossainz Dos años amándote, con cien más por venir
(Two years of loving you with a hundred more to come)
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user no you’re kidding
user RUE WHEN WAS THIS?
user Carlos said soft launch? Soft bomb
paoladiaz amor☀️
landonorris sickening, absolutely sickening
charlesleclerc thank god, I had too many close calls with this secret
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liked by misscolombia, checoperez and 1,562,920 others
paoladiaz to the man who has been by my side for some of the best moments in my career, words will never be enough
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carlossainz you deserve it all amor
user I’m throwing up
landorizz oh wow
user this is unbelievable
user name a prettier couple I’ll wait
user it’s the way they’re been supporting each other for years in the background to keep things private😭
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hockeyshmockey · 12 days
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What happens in Vegas pt3
Pt 1 Pt 2
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader, ex!max Verstappen x reader
Warnings: None
A/N: I really like this one but I think the speech is a bit weird because I couldn’t remember what I wanted to write lol. Also finally decided to actually use the right dates for this one.
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MESSAGES
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CAMERA ROLL
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MESSAGES
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TWITTER
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MESSAGES
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CAMERA ROLL
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MESSAGES
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TWITTER
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MESSAGES
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TWITTER
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MESSAGES
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TWITTER
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TAGLIST: @dutifullyannoyingfox @woozarts @wcnorris @yourbane @ilove-tswizzle @a-beaverhausen @almostjollypizza @mia-rrrs @evie-119 @thecubanator2 @geehsf @fangirl-dot-com @aquangxl @awritingtree @janeholt3 @minkyungseokie @alliwantisadonut @barcelonaloverf1life @2pagenumb @phantomxoxo @fearfam69691 @i-wish-this-was-me
If you name is in blue, it wouldn't let me tag you for some reason
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hockeyshmockey · 12 days
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Breaking my little heart
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🌶️ NEVER FORGET YOU — CARLOS SAINZ
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[ carlos sainz x singer!fem!reader ]
[ summary ] carlos' and y/n's breakup comes as a surprise to many of their friends. no one ever thought the couple would ever break up, but alas, y/n was always ready to do whatever was best for the love of her life — even if it meant breaking up with him.
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one : mcdonald's for p
two : the buzzfeed interview
three : you really love him, don't you?
four : all too much for little lando
five : go back to being strangers
six : tba
seven : tba
eight : tba
more to be added!
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© 2024 NORIZZSAINZ | PLEASE REFRAIN FROM COPYING OR REPOSTING MY WORK WITHIN OR OUTSIDE THIS SITE
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hockeyshmockey · 25 days
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Your honor I’m obsessed
wake me from this eternal slumber, rumor has it, a kiss is all it takes; i'm no fairytale but your lips might make me one.
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jh86 x reader: you've sworn off frat boys, but maybe just one more?
(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (m on f) yay! we love exceptions, fingering, hair pulling and lips and limbs and all my usual stuff (you guys know what i'm about). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)
(a/n: well, favorites, my ex was in pike in undergrad, so you can thank him for 18k worth of a fantasy-level frat romance (i know, it's too much, i need to cut it down, but i can't. this is how i'm dealing with my breakup. leave me be). and, actually, don't thank him. thank me, because i worked really, really hard on this <3. there are a billion things that i ask you to take for granted, like how i included too many side characters, so i know it will be confusing, but i needed sleazy nh13 in there, okay? and i needed starboy pitcher lh43, and cc22 falling for his postgame reporter, and tz11 not being able to catch, and qh43 being a pawn in a president x president love story featuring alex turcotte. all of it was necessary for my healing process. i wanted to write something in which someone can drop into your life and rewrite all of the things you believe to be true. some star-crossed shit. so, this is my best shot. what is love, after all, but leaving your window open for fratboy jh86 to climb into? i was never actually in greek life, so all of this is based on what my friends have told me (sam is based on my irl best friend, fun fact). forgive me for any plot holes and inconsistencies. please, please, tell me what you think, because i love when you do, and tell me what you want next. thank you for your support. thank you for indulging my silly whims and most delusional daydreams. tell your snakes i love them. getting pretty busy up here in the real world, but until next time. go canucks. all my love).
this day, the first day of classes, had been a real disaster, honestly. what had been the worse part, even? it was hard to decide, with so many natural contenders.
would it be the alarm clock of your roommate, which had gone off for twenty minutes, until you had to get up yourself and shake her awake? or maybe the pop quiz in your lecture, on the very first day, when you forgot to do the reading? but, no, we can't forget the back to back to back texts from that guy, the one who mistook your general friendliness as romantic interest.
it had been a terrible day, genuinely, but this might be the worst of it, you thought, as you stood outside the tke house, on the sidewalk, waiting for your friends. your friends, who said they would be out ten minutes ago.
it was getting kind of brisk outside, and your outfit, compliant with the finance bros and business hoes theme, wasn't keeping you very warm. you looked down at your phone, tried to will a text from one of them into existence. you just wanted to go home, which, honestly, you probably should have already done by now. your sorority house was maybe a five minute walk down the row, but you didn't want to abandon your friends, and you didn't really want to make the walk alone, in the dark.
you could go back inside, you knew. but, this day had sucked, and you weren't in the mood to dance on an elevated surface tonight.
you opened the text conversation with your roommate, typed almost out? and hit send, before a deep voice pulled your head up.
"miss, is that an open container?" you looked up to find a stout officer of campus security shining his flashlight on you and your red plastic cup.
of course, because today was terrible, today would be the day that security cracks down on their no-open-containers-on-the-row rule. of course.
you looked into your solo cup, swirled around the pink liquid. what could you even say this was? the officer could probably smell the vodka in it from where he stood, a few feet away. honestly, it was probably better to just come clean. you'd get, what, a citation? hopefully a warning, if you could conjure up some tears?
you sighed, opened your mouth to spew some sob story, but you were cut off by some goofy voice coming from the door.
"there you are, baby!"
both you and the officer turned to face the voice, now an approaching figure.
your eyes narrowed as you tried to make out a face from the dim street light. you certainly were not anyone's baby. and you were fairly certain the only people who could have been wondering where you were would be the friends you came with, who had much more feminine voices.
before you could tell this guy he had the wrong idea, though, he slung a heavy arm around your shoulders, used it to pull you close to him before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, gentle, doting, fleeting.
you were about to shove this guy off of you, as he had obviously mistaken you for someone else.
"thanks for holding my drink for me," he said, then, taking your cup from your hand and downing it in one go.
you swallowed, your mind buzzing, not just with confusion but with the weight of his body against yours, the ghost of heat from his lips on your temple, the slightly muddled sandalwood scent of him so close. was he covering for you, this stranger? this stranger, who definitely could see your face, now, so there was no one he could be mistaking you for.
was he just being nice?
"'course, baby," you mustered, letting yourself lean into his embrace, hooking an arm around his waist. if he was going to get this officer off of your back, you'd let him.
your savior turned to face the shorter man in front of you both, as if noticing him for the first time. "oh, good evening, officer," he said, ever the gentleman. "can i help you?"
as the officer explained his presence with a gruff tone, you turned your neck to look at the face of the man who currently had his arm around you, whose lips on your forehead you could still feel like a purpling bruise.
you looked up at him, and your stomach flipped, because he was just so pretty. so much so that it flooded your gaze, made him hard to take in all at once. that fairytale profile, cut jaw, sharp cheekbones, soft slope of a nose. long, dark lashes that framed light blue eyes. grown out hair that curled around the brim of his backwards baseball cap, which read the letters tke in bold font. full, pink lips you had the sudden urge to tug on with your teeth.
uh oh, the gossip in your head whispered to her friends. we've seen this before. we know how this ends.
you could have shushed her.
"as you can see, officer, there's no liquid here, at least not anymore," the tke boy above you said with the voice of an experienced sweet-talker, smooth and sugary. "we wish we could be of more help, don't we, baby?"
he turned his gaze down to you, meeting your eyes directly for the first time. oceanic amusement met your careful skepticism, so electric and charged you swore the streetlight above you began to flicker.
"sure do," you said, reluctantly fixing your gaze on the officer and away from the mesmerizing face next to you.
the short man looked unconvinced, but switched his flashlight off anyways.
"have a good night, sir," you added, to which he muttered something and walked in the other direction.
you waited until he was out of earshot before lifting that warm arm from around your shoulders, crossing your own arms over your chest. "right," you began, "so, do i know you, or something?"
he tilted his head, let a bemused smile slant across his face, completely lopsided, completely endearing. "or something," he said, his eyes glinting, brimming over with mirth.
you furrowed your brow, shifted on your feet. "why did you come out here, then?" you asked. "and what was that whole act for?"
he sucked on his teeth for a moment, during which you took in his whole frame, his wide shoulders, tall build, strong stance.
uh oh is right, you thought to yourself, clasping your hands behind your back.
he shrugged, the movement making the muscles in his shoulders tense. you looked at your feet. "saw you come out here by yourself," he said, simply. "just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."
you narrowed your eyes, which made his gaze shimmer again.
"then i saw you with the security guy, and he's been camping out recently for their open container policy, so i figured i'd-"
"you figured you'd pretend that we're together?" you raised a brow. "awful dramatic, don't you think? could have just smacked the cup from my hand." you cringed internally as soon as you said this. you'd felt his hand on your side, and there was no chance that soft touch was capable of anything so harsh.
he just took a step closer to you, though, and part of you wanted to back away, but you didn't. you couldn't. "maybe i had selfish motives," he added, "maybe i wanted him to think i could pull a pretty girl like you, hm?"
you gave a slight scoff, the smallest shake of your head, before looking up at him again, finding him closer, looking at you like you were something special. something he wouldn't find again.
"okay, you can turn off the charm, now," you warned, more for your own sake than his. "what's your name?"
he stuck out his hand to shake yours, which felt wholly odd, given you could still feel his lips on your skin, like a brand, a scar. "i'm jack," he said, and you took his hand, gave it a shake as you offered him your own name in return.
"and you're in tke?" you asked, half-hoping he would laugh, nod you off, say that fraternities were stupid. hoping he wouldn't be a frat brother, so that he might still be on the table. so that you wouldn't have to walk away from him knowing exactly how he would hurt you if you gave him too much of a chance, too much of yourself.
he nodded though, and you could have sighed in disappointment. he was so, so pretty, but pretty wasn't good enough for your no frat boys rule. not after last time. "are you in a sorority?"
"no," you said immediately, shaking your head. this was a lie, you were in alpha phi, but you were hoping he'd lose interest as soon as you denied it, as so many greek-life boys did.
the light didn't blink out from jack's eyes though. "you must have a walk ahead of you then, if you're not on the row," he said. "i'll walk with you, it's dark."
you peered up at him, dubious. what was his angle, here? what would he have over you if you said yes?
luckily, you didn't have to answer, because you heard your roommate's voice from the door, now walking towards you. "'m so sorry, didn't see your text," she said, walking right past jack and pulling you in for a hug. "of course we can go. let's go back to the house, yeah?"
you nodded, returned her hug.
"the house?" jack's voice asked, to which your roommate pulled away from you, looked at him.
"yeah, a-phi," she said, skeptical. "um, who is this?" she elbowed you.
"this is jack," you explained, "he saved me from a safety citation. jack, this is my roommate, sam."
he nodded to her, which she returned. if jack had put together that you had just lied to his face about being in greek life, he didn't call you out on it, only smiling that goofy grin at you again, the one that awoke butterflies in your stomach, the one that had the street light rolling its eyes at you.
"well, jack, we're off," sam said, linking her arm in yours.
"goodnight, ladies," he said as the two of you set off down the sidewalk. "until you next need saving, baby."
you shook in a disbelieving laugh.
"baby?" sam whisper-screamed at you.
"i'll explain later," you told her.
you did explain later, that night, when the two of you were taking off your makeup in your mirroring vanities.
"i'm sorry, what?" sam said when you had finished recalling the night. "he quite literally kissed you?"
you flushed, waved her off. "barely," you said, "on the head."
"okay, sure," she mused, patting toner into her face. "sure, as if this isn't the longest you've talked about a guy since last year!"
you sighed. "it doesn't matter," you said, trying to make yourself believe it. "he's in tke. and i've sworn off frat guys, you know this."
"oh, i know this," she replied, "but rules are made to be broken."
"that's not right," you sing-songed.
"don't talk back to your president," she sung right back at you, using her position in the sorority as a trump-card, as she was so prone to doing.
"he's probably just like the rest of them," you reminded her, and yourself, "he's charming and sweet and lovely until he gets what he wants, and then he's gone."
the words hurt as you spoke them, jagged and sharp in your throat, like shards of glass. it hurt to think about your history with frat guys, the ones you'd let get close to you.
the guy from pike whom you had been seeing, sort of, for half a year, who had relished in the chase of it all, been so caring until you finally slept with him. and then he acted like you were nothing, not even worth a text. he had acted like you were crazy, delusional, for thinking your relationship went any deeper than sex.
he had all but laughed at you when you had suggested anything different. "i don't, like, do labels," he had told you. "you know that, right?"
you shuddered, now, thinking about how stupid, how utterly childish he had made you feel. thinking about how you had given the next guy, the one from lambda, a chance, about how he had done the same thing, with slightly different words, on a slightly different timeline.
you refused to feel that way again.
sam just shrugged. "i don't know, love," she said, "the way he was looking at you, back there, i swear, it was special."
you scrunched up your nose. "i'm not changing my mind. it's not worth it. he's not worth it."
something in the back of your mind twisted, though, because there was a trace of disbelief in your tone.
"whatever you say," sam said.
"now, tell me about your progress on project peace treaty," you said, hoping to change the subject, referring to sam's crush on the tke president.
one of your other friends had come up with the moniker after sam had been voted president herself, like a relationship between the two leaders would be some kind of deal between nations.
sam pretended to faint in her chair. "i don't know how much more obvious i can be," she whined. "i swear, i can't tell if he's just quiet or if he wants me to get the fuck away from him."
you rolled your eyes. "there's no way he's not into you," you said, and you meant it - sam was your best friend, and the best person you knew. if there was a way not to like her, you were unfamiliar with it.
she just shook her head. "you haven't talked to alex," she said, solemn. "he's, like, impossible to read." she shot you a look. "not all of us can have a tke brother wrapped around our finger after meeting once."
you threw a pillow at her, laughed her off, tried not to dream that night about starry blue eyes and soft lips on your temple.
the week passed, slowly, defined by welcome back mixers and new classes, new faces.
before you knew it, it was friday. you were exhausted, but you only had two classes today, the first of which passed quickly, the second of which was ballroom dance 101.
you had already had your first ballroom class on wednesday, so you knew it was fairly laid back, a good way to get some unit credits, a place to move around a bit before the weekend. you were, however, taking it alone. sam had been planning on taking it with you, but then an opening for a class she really needed had come up, and you had insisted you'd be fine on your own, that obviously her major credits were more important than this random elective dance class.
and it was fine, truly, if not a little less fun without her there. you waited patiently for the instructor to arrive, watching the little circles of friends stretch and chat. you leaned your back against the wall, crossed your arms over your chest, let your mind slow until you felt a presence next to you.
you glanced to your left, felt your heart stutter as you did a double take. "jack?" you asked, almost incredulous. if he looked pretty in the night, he looked downright distracting in the daylight, today in khakis and a polo shirt.
"hey, baby," he said, maybe a trace of smugness in his voice as he mirrored your lean, your posture. "how're you?"
this felt like a trap. he felt like a trap. your eyes narrowed. "you're in ballroom? since when?"
"since i switched into it, yesterday," he answered, simply and plainly, before his mouth quirked up. "is that what the experts are callin' it? just 'ballroom?'" he gave a facetious nod. "i like it. drop the 'dance,' 's too bulky."
you rolled your eyes, but laughed nonetheless. "we went over this kind of expert vocabulary on day one," you said with a shrug, "sorry you missed it."
the instructor clapped her hands, signaling her arrival, before beginning a stretching sequence on the floor.
"you're gonna dance in khakis?" you whispered to jack, who had taken the spot next to you as you both leaned forward to touch your toes.
"was i supposed to bring my tux?" he asked, which made you choke down a laugh. "or are we doing some kind of breakdancing i'm unaware of?"
"what, you don't have your handstand mastered?" you teased, "if you insist, but that's the foundation we're building from, just warning you."
"students, focus!" the instructor demanded, shooting you a glare, which you acknowledged with a nod before sharing a guilty smile with jack, like kids caught laughing too hard on the field trip bus.
after class, the both of you were planning on walking back to the row, so you just walked together, chatted pleasantly. the street was pretty in the daylight in a way it wasn't at night. there was something to be said, you thought, about being able to see everything clearly, about knowing exactly what you were looking at. and sure, there was beauty in mystery, and there was beauty in danger, but there was beauty in comfort, too.
"so, do you think i could get your number?" jack said, as you both turned the corner, the tke house now in clear view. his smile was easy. "for all the questions 'm gonna have about the tango?"
you let out a little laugh, thought for a moment. it was just your number, after all, and he said it was for class. it probably didn't mean anything. it was probably safe. "okay," you said, taking out your phone, handing it to him, "sure." your mouth quirked up as he put in his information, sent himself a text. "don't know how much help 'm gonna be, though."
he handed your phone back to you, that halfway grin on his pretty face. "you're right," he said, making his way towards his front door. "if anything, you'll just distract me from the steps, lookin' like that and all."
you looked down, shook your head, felt the gentle heat of a blush on your face. "focus up, then," you chided, gripping the straps of your backpack.
"oh, i'm focused, baby," he called out, "just not on dance."
you rolled your eyes at him as he smiled at your reaction, both of you saying your goodbyes. you heard his front door shut only when you had completely turned away, began to walk the few houses down the street.
when you got back to your room, you flopped down on your bed, breathing into your soft comforter, until you heard the door swing open again. you looked up.
"all good?" sam asked, raising a brow. she threw her bag and keys on the floor by her desk, slipped off her shoes, hopped up onto her bed, opposite yours.
"yeah," you said, sighed, then laughed, short and breathy. "remember that guy from last weekend?"
her eyes went wide, now alert. her posture straightened. "uh, your valiant hero in the face of danger? of course."
you laughed, then, more naturally this time, hugged a pillow to your chest. "he's in my dance class." you looked down at your hand, examined your fingernails. "and i gave him my number."
sam squinted at you. "okay," she said, slowly. "i know what i think about this, i think you know what i think about this." she tugged her hair elastic down, freeing her hair from the ponytail it had been in. "what do you think about this?"
you sucked on your teeth, thought for a moment. "i don't know," you said. "i guess i'm just confused. and worried. and i don't think i want him to text me first, but i also kind of want-"
a buzz from your phone interrupted you, and sam tilted her head back and groaned. "that's him, isn't it?" she asked. "that's definitely him."
and it shouldn't have been, you thought, there was no way it was him, because it had been what, ten minutes? you knew frat guys, and you knew it couldn't be him.
it was.
forgot to ask if you were coming tonight, he had texted, followed by told you you're distracting lol.
"i knew it," sam said, shaking her head, "i'm like an oracle. it's a gift, i know, but it's also a burden." she gestured for you to speak. "what's he say?"
"asked if i'm coming tonight," you said, looking up at her, "in all lowercase. and he said lol."
she waved you off. "non-issue," she declared.
"but, like," you pushed, giving her a look, "who taught him to use all lowercase?"
"doesn't matter," sam continued, "he called you baby and kissed you on the forehead. he gets a lowercase pass."
"so you're the oracle and the lawmaker?" you asked, teasing.
sam nodded seriously. "and the president," she finished.
you laughed, then sighed, began typing.
"what're you saying?" sam asked, leaning forward on her bed, as if she would be able to read your screen.
"just that 'm not going," you said. not tonight sry, you sent, followed by you might want to get that distraction thing checked out.
sam nodded. "what was their theme tonight? something bad, right?"
"country bros and rodeo hoes," you answered with a grimace.
"who the hell is in their little think tank?" sam asked, shaking her head, "'m gonna tell alex if they do the bros/hoes thing again a phi isn't coming."
you were nodding in agreement when your phone buzzed again. then you'll be up at a reasonable time tomorrow? he had asked, followed by any chance you wanna come watch my friends' baseball fall game?, followed by maybe more exposure will help w my distraction problem :).
you bit your lip, looked up at sam. "what?" she asked.
"have plans tomorrow morning?" you said as you typed. thanks for the invite, you sent, followed by can i bring sam? and can you bring alex?
"of course not," sam said, "it's saturday morning."
as long as you'll be there, you can bring anyone you want, he texted back, followed by alex is in!
see you there :) you said in a final response.
the field @ 9, he sent, followed by thank you!
your brow furrowed at this, because what was he thanking you for? what had you promised him, in this interaction, besides just seeing him? surely that wasn't enough to warrant a thank you?
you cleared your throat, tossed your phone aside. "well, you do now," you said to sam. "we're going to baseball tomorrow morning."
sam groaned. "those guys suck."
"alex is coming," you tried.
"i love baseball!" sam said, straightening again. "and soph is covering it for the paper, so we can support her, too."
you laughed. "so easily convinced, eh?"
"you don't wanna talk to me about being easily persuaded," she sing-songed. visions of easy grins and high cheekbones flashed across your mind, and you knew she was right, so you let it rest.
the next morning, as the two of you walked to the baseball field, sam was reminding you about the plight of being the president.
"we've warned her a million times about what she's posting," she told you, out of breath, referring to one of the freshman who didn't seem to understand your house's social media rules. "i don't know how many times i can remind her politely before i just start smacking cans out of her hand when someone takes their phone out."
you laughed as you rounded the corner by the field entrance. "i say resort to violence," you said, "i hear it's always the answer."
sam groaned while you smiled. "look, there they are," you whispered, spotting him and jack over by the stands. suddenly all evidence of sam's unhappiness was mysteriously gone. her face was the image of alert interest. you imagined you probably looked a little more nervous as you approached where they were standing.
"gentlemen," sam greeted the pair of them as you approached. "good to see you." she shot a wink alex's way. he appeared completely unaffected. "'specially you, handsome."
you and jack shared a gentle smile at sam's boldness, and it felt like a secret language, the kind you make up with your friend during a playdate, the kind everyone understands but that feels extra special, anyways.
"hi, sam," alex said, plainly, but you caught the faintest of a pleased look in his eyes before he nodded to you in greeting.
"thanks for coming," jack said, although when he said it he was speaking directly to you. there was a fluttery feeling in your stomach that you scolded into submission. then he offered you his arm, and you decided that the butterflies were probably here to stay, at least for now. "shall we?"
you exhaled, had the feeling that touching his extended arm would be like touching a loaded gun, dangerous and daunting, but you took it anyways, found him warm and comfortable against your side as you fell into step together. "i'm, uh," you started, testing your limits, "i'm happy you texted."
jack shook his hair from his face. his returning smile was nothing short of stunning. "yeah?" he asked, which had your mouth feeling a bit dry. "made you happy?" this fact seemed to make him especially pleased, proud.
"what, no arm for me, al?" came sam's abrupt voice from behind you. alex appeared horrified by this nickname. "that's fine, i have enough arms, anyways. three would be overdoing it, i think."
you coughed, turned your gaze back to jack. you felt the force of his attention like a suckerpunch to the stomach. "yeah, i, um," you tried, "thanks, i guess. for inviting us."
his soft features lit up with amusement at your uncertainty, obvious discomfort. he appeared just on the verge of laughter, but it didn't really feel like he was laughing at you, somehow. you knew what being on the bad end of joke was like, and this didn't feel like that. maybe you were just distracted by how his mouth curved around his almost-laugh, slow and delighted. "of course, baby," he said, and you sort of wished he would stop calling you that. for your mental well-being, he really needed to stop calling you that. he tugged you slightly closer to him as you made your way towards some empty seats in the stands. "can i have the seat next to you?"
and you let out a little laugh, then, as you sat down, made a motion as if to wipe off the seat to your left. "all yours," you said.
he hummed, something sparking in his eyes as he sat down, which had you rethinking your words, the gravity of them. you couldn't bring yourself to regret them, though, if you were honest. how could you regret them, when they made him look at you like this? like there was some worldly truth in the blush on your cheeks?
the cracking sound of a bat pulled you from your daze. "so, who do you know on the team?" you asked, eager to push the conversation towards something safer, something that didn't have your neck feeling hot, didn't make the arm rest between the two of you feel like something cruel.
he turned his head towards the field slowly, reluctantly. "11, 22," he said, pointing to where they stood, one tall, the other shorter, broader. "trevor and cole." he smiled. "they aren't very good."
you huffed a laugh. "they're on a d1 team," you chided, "so they must not be terrible."
"we still have no idea how they made the team," jack replied, shaking his head. "you'll see, swear trev can't catch a ball."
"and they only took on cole 'cause he's good with media," alex added from the seat on the other side of jack. "he's their backup backup catcher."
sam snapped her fingers. "cole, like cole caufield?" she asked, her eyes widening when alex nodded. sam looked at you. "he's the one soph's been talkin' about. the one she interviews all the time for the paper."
you laughed in recognition. your friend sophie covered almost every baseball game, and apparently a certain backup backup catcher had been giving her a lot of grief whenever she tried to get a useable quote.
"oh, and 43," jack said, pointing to the lanky kid on the pitcher's mound. his smile turned bashful. "'s luke, my younger brother."
your stomach flipped at how his gaze had softened. "didn't know you had siblings," you said, although you didn't know much about him, so you guessed that made sense.
he just nodded. "older brother, too, you might know him, actually."
"'s in tke with you?" you asked, to which jack made some affirmative sound.
"yeah," he said, "quinn, 's close with nico."
you hummed in recognition, picturing their faces, noticing the similarities. "right," you said, "you guys do look similar."
his smile turned indulgent as he tilted his head. "'m better looking though, right, baby?" he asked, and his voice dripped with confidence, but you felt a strange compulsion to reassure him, anyways, could somehow sense that this was important.
so you just ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, gauging what to say, here, how much you could reveal. "i think you're pretty, jack," you said, and it was soft, low, for him. your eyes caught on his for a blazing second. "you know i do." and it was true, you knew he was aware of the way he affected you.
his gaze grew hooded for a moment, which terrified you, a horror-movie jump scare, a reminder of the reason you made your no-frat-boy rule in the first place.
luckily, as always, sam had something to say. she scoffed. "don't know about that," she said, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs over the seat in front of her. "quinn's a straight ten." she gave a satisfied smile, looked to her right. "say, al, d'you think you could set me up with him? you guys are close, right?"
alex didn't answer right away. he shifted slightly in his seat.
"c'mon, from one president to another, think you could help me out?" sam gave a dreamy sort of sigh. "he's got a real face on him, and ever since he's grown out his hair-"
"'m not setting you up with him," was alex's short reply, cutting sam off, not quite looking at her.
you knocked jack's knee with your own, mirroring smiles on your faces.
sam just pouted as the game started. "don't have to be such an ass about it," she said, but you could tell by her face that she had accomplished exactly what she had set out to.
you weren't really a baseball fan, but this particular game flew by, probably because of the shaggy-haired, full-lipped person sitting to your left.
the slow pace of the game was cut with conversations about the party tke threw last night (it was lame, jack insisted, and his knowing, shy grin gave you a hint as to the reason why), which led to a conversation about who picks the themes (a board of esteemed individuals, apparently).
"i know it's just nico," sam said, rolling her eyes. "tell him that if he keeps up with the bros and hoes thing a phi isn't coming."
this actually appeared to alarm alex. "you're not serious," he said.
"as death," sam said, nodding.
alex promptly took out his phone and started to text someone. you had the sneaking suspicion it was nico.
jack asked about what you did last night, which led you to talking about your favorite movies.
"you've never seen scream?" you asked, practically confused.
he just shook his head, something glinting in his eyes.
you scoffed. "you have to. it's the best."
"you'll have to show it to me, sometime, then," was his response, which had you blushing, which had you wanting to.
cole never went in, as was expected. he seemed to spend the majority of his time goofing off in the dugout, throwing paper cups at his teammates, then turning away like he had no idea how they'd been hit.
luke threw a great game. he was the kind of player that drew your attention, that you just knew was good, even if you didn't know anything about the sport.
trevor only batted once (he leaned his shoulder into the pitch and took his walk). as an outfielder, he didn't see a ton of action, only getting one real shot at a catch, of course fumbling an easy out, much to the dismay of his teammates.
cole put his head in his hands but welcomed his friend back to the dugout with open arms.
the game ended with a win for the good guys, and you found yourself sticking around, all because jack wanted to wait to congratulate his friends and brother. he extended a hand to you to help you up from your seat, his grip firm and warm against your palm.
your group of four walked down to where the players would exit. you were surprised to find the silence especially comfortable, easy.
at some point, jack slapped his thigh, lightly. "i meant to ask you, baby, what's your coffee order?"
you gave him a confused sort of look. "just hot coffee with oat milk," you answered, almost wary. "why?"
"for next time," he answered, like it was the easiest thing in the world, maybe the most obvious.
you swallowed down how touched you were by this. it felt like ginger, like something you know is good for you but that feels foreign, harsh, anyways. "how do you like your coffee, then?" you asked.
"sweet," he answered, with a smile that made you feel like he knew something you didn't. "really, really sweet."
a chaotic presence shook you both from the haze you'd settled into. "oh, hey, guys." you turned, found your friend sophie there, hands full with a clipboard and her bag and a voice recorder. she pushed her hair from her face. "how's it going?"
"all good, soph," sam answered. "you?"
sophie blew out a breath. "will be good once i get a couple quotes," she said, "just hope they don't give me twenty-two. readers want quotes from impact players, and-"
"sayin' 'm not an impact player, love?" came a goofy approaching voice. you turned again to see cole coming out of the now open exit gate.
sophie groaned. "tell me they're giving me someone else," she pleaded, to which cole grinned wider. "tell me they're giving me someone who played, today."
cole rolled his neck, cracked his knuckles. "might wanna turn on your recorder," he advised, "you're gonna wanna get this."
sophie just rolled her eyes and pulled him to the side, beginning a short interview about the game as you continued to wait.
shortly after, trevor walked out, grinning when he registered the group of you. jack slung an arm around your shoulders as his friend approached, which you noticed. which you would have questioned, maybe, if he didn't pull you into his side in the best of ways, if his touch didn't make you basically delirious. so delirious that you reached a hand up to hold his, dangling from your shoulder.
you could almost hear his satisfied smile as trevor clapped alex on the shoulder in greeting. "packed the stands for us, eh?" he asked, to which alex laughed.
it was the most emotion you'd seen from him. sam appeared very confused, crossed her arms over her chest. "great game," she said.
"yeah," jack continued. "my favorite part was that gorgeous catch in the sixth." he nodded. "seamless."
trevor scoffed, waved jack off. "almost had that one," he insisted. "was this close." he brought two fingers up to show just how close he had been to making that catch.
"you were not," came another voice. you recognized the tall figure as jack's younger brother.
jack clapped his hand in a handshake, congratulated him on the win. you echoed the sentiment, stuck out your hand in greeting, which he shook. "really good game," you said, "i'm-"
"know who you are," luke said, to which you furrowed your brow.
"how?" you asked. luke shared a look with his brother, halfway amused, halfway bored.
jack cleared his throat. "might've mentioned you," he said, but it came out like a mumble, a murmur into your hair.
your heart felt too big for your chest, for a moment. the peanut gallery around you faded away, suddenly it felt like it was just the two of you, standing here. just the two of you, in this universe. "been talkin' about me?" you whispered, and you couldn't help but lean a little more into his side, your grip on his hand growing a little more substantial, a little more confident.
because you'd been someone's secret before, someone's wyd text late at night, someone's nobody, really, someone's a friend. you knew what it felt like to be traded up for, like an old phone, to be the just old enough model that someone looked for someone else, someone newer.
it felt a little spectacular to be someone to write home about, someone to be seen with in broad daylight, someone to be gushed about to a brother. maybe it just felt spectacular to be that kind of someone for jack, in particular.
"a bit," jack breathed into your ear, the softest, probably most uncertain you'd heard him. like he didn't want to scare you away.
you bumped your hip against his. "real chatterbox, hm?" you whispered, adoring the ghost of a flush up his neck, the shy smile he couldn't seem to hide.
"only about stuff that matters," he said, and whatever joke you were going to say died in your mouth, tasted bitter.
luckily, cole and sophie approached, drawing your attention away.
"good to go?" alex asked, to which cole nodded, a smug smile on his face.
sophie huffed. "i don't know why they give me you every damn game," she exclaimed, shoving her recorder and clipboard into her bag. "as if you could give me a useable quote if your life depended on it."
cole scoffed. "i can't help it if your questions are boring as hell," he said. "why don't you ask me something interesting?"
"like what?" sophie asked. "what do you propose i ask you?"
"to dinner next week," cole answered immediately, his smile more of a toothy smirk, and sophie groaned, shook her head.
"i'm out," she said, taking a quick right. she made eye contact with you and sam. "i'll see you back at the house, tonight, girls?"
you both nodded, called out your agreement and goodbye.
when sophie was out of earshot, trevor clapped cole on the shoulder. "don't you get tired of striking out, coley?" he asked.
"you don't seem to, trev," luke observed, to which jack let out a laugh.
"hey, i got a single out of today," trevor argued. no one seemed to view that as the victory that he did.
cole and trevor eventually peeled off to the athlete's dining hall to get lunch, while luke walked back to the row with the group of you, saying something about grabbing a shirt from quinn's room.
when you all made it back, standing in front of the tke house, jack reluctantly retracted his arm from your shoulders. you felt cold without it.
luke headed up to the door.
"luke, tell quinn i say hi, would you?" sam asked, to which he gave some confused confirmation, before disappearing into the house. sam then turned to alex. "a pleasure, as always, al," she said, barely sparing him a second glance.
"yeah, bye?" alex said, almost a question, obviously wary of sam's change in pace.
jack touched your hand, pulled your gaze to his like two magnets, eliciting some kind of shield between you and the rest of the world. "thanks again for coming," he said, so soft, you could feel in your bones that he meant it.
"'course," you said, found it strange that it was entirely true. of course you would come when he called you. of course you'd indulge his every whim, when he asked so politely. "see you on friday? for dance?"
and he gave the slightest of pouts, but it drew your attention to his mouth nonetheless. made your cheeks feel hot, your heart beat fast, nonetheless. "too long, baby," he said, and you could have rolled your eyes at his boyish whine, but you never would. not when he was whining for you.
you just stayed quiet, let yourself smile, slightly. "maybe before friday, then?"
he grinned as if some plan he'd formed had turned out exactly as he'd hoped. "i'll text you," he said, giving you that fairytale smile, and you'd been told that before.
you'd been told that before, during nighttime hours that passed like slug across rain-drenched walkways. you'd been told that while in boxer shorts that weren't your own, standing in a doorframe that was practically laughing at you.
i'll text you, you'd been told, from some guy on his bed, on his phone, not quite looking at you.
and the doorframe might have cackled at how desperate you seemed, then, desperate for something you'd never get from this guy in the room you were leaving.
kick rocks, girl, the doorframe might have said, you know how many i've seen come in and out, even just this week? and you really think you're special?
but, right now, jack told you that he'd text you, and you couldn't find a doubt in your mind. you knew he would.
you proved to be right. the weekend flew by, because you were busy, yes, but also because of the near-ongoing text conversation you had fallen into with jack.
he might ask you something about the classes you were taking (besides ballroom), to which you would shyly tell him about some finance discussion you found genuinely interesting.
you might ask if he played sports at all, like his brother (he played hockey growing up, but wasn't good enough to play in college, like luke was with baseball), to which you would tell him you found it hard to believe that he could ever be not good enough at something.
and you'd believe it, too, wholeheartedly. sure, he had this ease to him, this softness, but he also seemed to possess a specific kind of eagerness, a delicious sort of hunger you felt must lead him to the things he wanted without exception.
you wouldn't admit it to anyone who asked, but he had you smiling at your phone on more than one occasion, had your heart beating a little faster with every notification. he had you dreamy. it was a good look on you.
that's how he had you, just over the phone, so the feeling was amplified by a million the next monday afternoon, after class, on your walk back from the business building, as you passed the tke house. a walk you'd taken a hundred-something times over the years, but this time was different, because your name was being called out of an upstairs window.
your heart stuttered, because you recognized that voice, in its confidence, in its goofy gentleness. you stopped walking, looked up, searching for an open window.
"that you, jack?" you called back, when you found it, found him leaning out of the pane with a smile you could see from where you stood. even though you knew. even though you'd never mistake his tone for anyone else.
he gave a pout. "who else?" he asked, and it was careful, calculated, even though it was playful. like he really wanted to know who else you thought would call your name from a window. like he really wanted to be the only one.
"oh, no one," you assured him, beginning to walk down the sidewalk again, towards your house, "you're my only romeo." you'd meant it in a joking way, but you could tell the first three words were the ones that mattered to him. the ones that would echo in his head. you're my only.
this made him light up, made him glow like a disco ball in a middle school gymnasium. "look so pretty today, baby!" he said, in response, before the distance between you grew so stark.
you flushed, wanted to feel the word pretty from his mouth against your neck, wanted to swallow it down. but you just smiled. "only today?" you asked, wondered where this confidence had come from, tried to imagine you saying that to anyone else. you couldn't.
"come back tomorrow, just to check!" he called out after you, making you shake your head, look down at your feet.
you weren't even back to your front door yet before your phone buzzed. not just today, he'd texted you.
i knew what you meant :), you sent back.
just didn't want you to think differently, he replied, followed by spend a scary amount of time thinking about how pretty you are.
the following day, you'd be lying if you said a smile didn't bloom across your face as you walked back after class, as you approached the tke house. maybe it was some pavlov response, but it was probably because you recognized the figure sitting on the window pane on the top floor, swinging his legs, just looking out, like he was on the top of a pirate ship.
you smiled, but your pulse stuttered, a bit. "jack?" you asked, although of course you knew it was him, that perfect facial structure, shag of soft hair. "is it safe up there?"
his gaze fixed on you, alight with flame and amusement. "worried 'bout me, baby?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes, but something in you twitched, because you were, actually. when did that happen?
"why're you hanging outta your window?" you asked, because you didn't need to tell him that you cared that much about him, not yet. you barely wanted to admit it to yourself, even.
he seemed to take your deflection as confirmation, anyways, to see right through you, as he typically did. his grin ticked up, a beautiful combination of a bashful blush and confident smile. he pushed his hair from his face. "knew you'd be walkin' by," he said, swung his feet up and back gently. "had to catch you."
you swallowed, ran your palms along the straps of your backpack in delighted disbelief. "you were waiting for me to walk by?" you asked, still not quite understanding.
he only nodded, tilted his head, gave the softest of smirks. it was almost too much. "don't you know you've got me waitin' by the phone, baby?" he asked, melodic. it was almost like he was making fun of you, with that teasing tone, but you knew in your heart that he wasn't. that he would never.
cherry-blossom pink bloomed across the bridge of your nose as his confession registered in your mind. the thought of him throughout his day, acutely aware of his phone in his pocket, his heart racing at every buzz, like yours did. "bein' so patient, are you?" you asked, the words smooth and drowsy in your throat, like cough syrup.
he hummed, swung a leg back over the pane, starting to shift his body back inside. "'m here when you need me, baby," he said, matter-of-fact, absolute. his gaze sharpened, the temperature of it rising to a scorch you felt like a slap. "or when you want me."
it was something sort of breathtaking, how honest he was with you, from the beginning. how he seemed perfectly content just waiting for you to come to terms with the attraction you felt so deeply. the attraction he could see in your eyes, in your breath, in your words.
you were scared, though, because this was the before part. and the guys you'd had before had appeared genuinely interested during the before part, too. it was the after part you were concerned about.
because what if he lost interest as soon as he had you, like the other guys did? he seemed so different, and so genuine, and sure, you'd never thought anyone to be as beautiful as him, but what if he wasn't different? what if he left you, too, standing alone, dumb, a desperate fool?
how many times had a beautiful trick forced your hand? you shivered at the thought, but the romantic in you wanted to believe. in yourself, in him. she wanted to believe in the love story between the beautiful trick and the desperate fool. she needed to.
the following day, perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, as you approached tke house on your walk back, to recognize jack's familiar figure in his front yard. he appeared to be making progress closer to you, day by day, from inside his room, to outside his window, to now, just next to the sidewalk.
the scene you approached wasn't necessarily a rare one, not on the row, but it might appear odd to an outsider. a few of the brothers, some that you recognized, were sitting on a couch that they had obviously moved from inside, while a couple others, jack included, were lounging on adirondack chairs. most of them had computers out, doing work, or something like it. and, of course, because it was a sunny afternoon, all of them, save for one, were bare-chested.
you weren't especially sensitive or judgmental when it came to that sort of thing, but, as you got closer, you found your cheeks growing hot, anyways. you were embarrassed like a kid, like you'd been caught with something forbidden, and you might've walked right by the house, avoiding eye contact, if jack hadn't made that impossible.
"tryna sneak by, baby?" he called out from his chair, teasing, his posture so distractingly relaxed, knees spread wide. he waved you over with a knowing smile. "c'mere," he said, but not like a demand. like a request, sweet-sounding from his full mouth.
and you'd do just about anything he asked, so of course you exhaled, turned on your foot, walked nervously from the sidewalk onto the lawn, over to his chair. you nodded your hello to nico, on the couch, on your way, finally stilled in front of jack's chair.
your heart was pounding, your palms felt damp. he'd called you baby, in front of all of his friends, like you weren't something to hide. the opposite, actually, like you were something to show off, someone to be proud of. he looked at you like you were worth something, and he looked so beautiful, drenched in sunlight, so stunning that your throat felt tight.
"hi," you said, internally smacked yourself at how lame you sounded, how dumb.
"hi," jack parroted, his smile growing as he shut his computer, set it down on the ground next to him. you suspected he could probably feel your nerves, your distraction. you suspected he was delighted in it. and that made you feel a bit better, at least. to be his delight, for the moment being. "you know quinn, right?"
you turned your eyes to the chair next to jack, to a face you recognized, the only one in the yard wearing a shirt. "yeah," you answered, giving quinn a small nod, which he returned. "hey, quinn."
the older brother gave you a small smile. "hey," he replied, "heard your sam's been askin' about me."
you laughed, twisted the sole of your sneaker into the grass slowly. "she has," you confirmed, although you highly doubted her interest was genuine. "very recently, at least."
quinn just laughed, gave a slight shake of his head before turning back to his computer. he knew something you didn't, you could tell, but you couldn't focus on that, right now, not when jack's voice called you back from your curious state.
"wanna sit?" he asked, spreading his legs wider as if to make room for you. you scrunched up your nose, slightly, in thought.
"you're not busy?" you asked, sort of shaky, shifting on your feet.
he shook his head, gave his thigh a soft pat in invitation. "wanna hear about your day," he said, and you could have swooned.
you set down your backpack next to his laptop, on the grass, let him pull you onto his lap. you settled into his chest, crossed your feet over the far armrest, rested your hands in your own lap as he draped a heavy arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.
you tried not to ruminate too hard on how warm he was, how his bare skin seemed to spark against you like an electric shock. jesus, had you ever been so awkward?
"nervous, eh?"
you looked up at him, found his smile lazy but his eyes attentive, almost concerned. you nodded, because who could lie to those eyes? "you make me nervous," you said, plainly, because it was true.
he fixed you with that starry gaze, his mouth dipping slightly into something like relief. you were confused, your brow furrowing as he took your hand in his free one, brought your fingers up to his neck, just below his ear. he pressed your index and middle finger into his soft skin until you could feel his pulse, until it vibrated through you.
until you could feel just how fast his heart was beating. you felt molten, all over, like day-old valentine's day chocolate over a flame.
you rubbed careful circles into his neck, as if to soothe the underlying pace. "like you just ran up the stairs," you said, and it came out like a whisper. jack just huffed a laugh, let his hand fall to the top of your legs. there was something mesmerizing in his eyes when he looked at you, then. "thank you," you added, a breath.
"make me nervous, too, baby," he said, so soft only you could hear. his mouth twisted into a teasing grin. "'m just better at hidin' it."
you rolled your eyes, but relaxed deeper into him, all the same, leaning your head back on his extended arm, shifting across his lap. "guess 'll have to get better at it, then," you said, a small smile on your face.
he just shook his head. "hope you don't," he told you. "hope you never hide from me."
your tongue felt too big for your mouth, then, so you just asked about his day, told him about yours, felt yourself grow more and more comfortable with each passing second, as the sun peeled across the sky like a sweet orange. you had homework to do, but you lost track of time, talking with him about everything and nothing, about nonsense and significance. you found yourself hanging off of his words like they were his lips, found yourself laughing so genuinely and sharing more with him than you had with a new person in a long, long time.
his laugh rang in your head like church bells. everything he said to you felt like a secret, like something just between the two of you. people moved to and from the lawn as you spoke, as you listened, but neither of you seemed to notice. the hours melted away in moments.
"jesus, there you are," came a loud voice from the sidewalk, pulling you from your bubble. you turned, found sam, a hand on her hip, looking right at you. "would it kill you to answer your phone?"
guilt bloomed in your chest. you hadn't thought to check your phone in what must have been an eternity. you quickly picked yourself up from jack's lap to grab it from your bag, caught a glimpse of his pout, which made your stomach flip. you scrolled through your notifications, winced at the texts you'd missed, mostly sam asking where you were. "i'm sorry," you said, looking up at her, and you meant it.
sam didn't hold grudges, though, had better things to do. it was one of the things you loved about her. so she just waved you off, approached you where you knelt next to your phone. she tilted her chin up at jack in greeting before noticing his brother. "'sup, quinn," she said, pushing her glasses to the top of her head. "didn't get the tarps-off memo, did you?"
quinn looked up, smiled right back at her. his gaze darted to the front door of the house and back in a second, almost undetectable, but you noticed it, noticed quinn's grin grow almost devious. "sorry to disappoint, sammy," he said, emphasis heavy on the nickname, his eyes settling on the door again. he coughed, nodded his head. "hey, uh, alex."
you bit your lip to stifle a laugh, shared a look with jack, who touched your shoulder lightly. just to say are you getting this? just to say i'm right here with you. as if you'd forget.
sam spun around to face alex, who stood on the front steps, hands in the pockets of his shorts. he wasn't looking at sam, though. he was glaring daggers at quinn, who was acting oblivious, practically humming contently in his seat.
"excuse me?" sam's voice was pitched. "what the hell are you wearing?"
your eyes widened as you registered the front of alex's t-shirt. it was a pretty pale yellow, with some bid day slogan on it, over three identical triangles. alex was wearing something tri delt.
you felt jack lean forward, his mouth right by your ear. "that from this year's bid day?" he asked. you nodded slowly, so as to let the scene unfold in front of you without disruption.
alex just looked down at his shirt, shrugged, appeared to be the picture of confidence, even arrogance. "what's the big deal?"
sam rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest. "tri delt, al, really?" sam sighed, then began to pull at the sleeves of her own sweatshirt, tug it over her head. of course, she was wearing only a bra underneath. of course, she didn't care.
quinn laughed, let out a whistle.
jack's laugh shook through you as he leaned forward, rested his forehead on your shoulder blade. you grinned at the intimacy of it, of letting him hide his laugh in you.
sam exhaled again, her sweatshirt now in her hand, which she extended to alex as she fixed her glasses. "here," she said, impatient.
alex narrowed his eyes, took the blue mass of fabric, pulled it over his head.
sam didn't wait to see him put it on, like she didn't need to check, instead turning on her heel, in pajama pants and pretty much nothing else, and began to walk back towards the a phi house. she gestured your way, "let's go, you," she ordered.
you scurried to grab your bag, pushed up on your feet, touched your fingers to jack's chin, lightly, before making to follow her. "movie tomorrow?" you asked, emboldened by hours of comfort, of being made to feel comfortable.
"yes, please," jack said, and the way he smiled up at you was something of dreams. "i'll text you, yeah?" you nodded, turned to run after your roommate.
"pleasure as always, madam president," nico called out from the couch, to which sam scoffed.
you caught up with her, hugged her into your side. "feeling feisty, eh?" you asked.
"tri delt," she said, biting, "what a moron, honestly. who does he think he is?"
you laughed. "i don't think he's thinking about anyone in tri delt, right now," you tried.
"and don't think we're not talking about you," she said, wagging a warning finger at you, "disappearing for hours, just for me to find you in the lap of a," she gasped dramatically, for emphasis, "frat boy!"
and you did talk about it, later, in the comfort of your room. you talked about jack, and how special he made you feel, and how patient he was with you, and how different he seemed.
and you talked about how scared you were, how you were so worried that as soon as you gave him any more of you, he'd take it all and run like blue and red flashed in the rearview. how you were more scared now, probably than ever before, because of how ready you were to give him whatever he wanted, and after such a short time of knowing him, too. to give him all of you, if he asked.
or, at least, to give him enough of you that, if he did run, he would leave nothing left.
sam listened, and asked questions, and talked for a long while, but the gist of it was that sometimes good things are scary. sometimes to be scared is to care, and sometimes to care is to be human.
"jesus, just look at me," she said, "make a fool out of myself on the daily for that scumbag, and look where it gets me." she sighed. "minus one sweatshirt and plus one poor boy calling me sammy."
you laughed. "you're a lot of things," you mused, "but you're no fool."
unlike you, foolish one, some voice in your head taunted, low and mean. your nose twitched.
sam hummed. "so, i should be out of the room tomorrow night?"
you groaned, hung your head in your hands. "it's a terrible idea, right?" you asked. "of course he's going to think something specific when i asked him to watch a movie at my place, hm?"
she just laughed at your anguish, put her hands up in surrender. "hey, you asked him," she pointed out. "not like he snapped you u up? at three a.m."
you scrunched up your nose. "i guess," you said.
"you make the rules," sam reminded you, "you set the pace." she fixed you with a look. "but you seem to like the fast track, love." she gestured to her cheeks. "you're glowing with it."
and maybe she was right. but you didn't feel like you were glowing, the following night, the night jack was supposed to come over.
you'd fussed over your hair and your clothes and your general being, made and remade your bed, folded all the clothes in your closet, as if he would be doing a thorough inspection.
you felt scattered, scared, so devastatingly nervous. you caught a glimpse of yourself in your mirror, almost flinched at the lack of confidence you found, the physical embodiment of anxiety. it seemed to web under your eyes like spiders, seemed to coat your skin like dull plaster.
it was sort of odd you felt so anxious, you thought, because you trusted jack. you trusted him so much, so truly. brutal memories had your sense of security all twisted around, though. at the moment, you couldn't quite grasp his lips against your temple, you couldn't tangibly touch his kind smile, didn't have the echo of his reassuring words in your ear.
you just felt crazy. crazy for wanting to trust him, somehow even more crazy for not being able to just let go. how badly you wanted to let go of the past, of your insecurities, of your fears.
it was almost like you were being pulled between two realties. you felt the stretch in the lines on your palms, in the seam of your mouth, in your breastbone. it was a pull between the kind of fear you found some deranged sort of certainty in and the future, what could be, what you could almost taste, if you'd just let yourself relax. if you'd only let yourself enjoy it.
why do you have to remember every embarrassment and failure? some voice in your head screamed, why can't you just be normal? you swallowed around your sadness, because he'd probably want someone normal, right? he probably wouldn't want you.
as if summoned by your despair, your attention was pulled upwards by a knock on your window, a few quick raps. you squinted, were shocked to find jack's pretty face on the other side of the glass.
you lived on the first floor, so it wasn't necessarily unsafe, or anything, but the front door was right there, and he was early. he was early, and you looked like a mess, felt like an even bigger one.
still, you walked over to the window, pulled it open. "what're you doing?" you asked, cleared your throat to hide the shake in your voice.
his blue eyes flashed with something like recognition, gone again in a moment. "am i too early?" he asked, like some impatient kid on christmas morning. "i can wait by the front door for another hour, if you want." you could have sighed in his voice, this specific tone that calmed you like lavender, the one that was almost making fun of you, but not quite.
even in your chaotically disorganized state, you just left the window open, stepped back. "'course you can come in now," you said, welcoming him in. you gave him a bit of a laugh, but it sounded kind of sad as it came out. "'m sorry about all this," you said, giving a rough gesture to your room, yourself, as you sat at the foot of your bed. "i'd probably have fixed it by the time you were supposed to get here."
he climbed into your room, and the sight was so intimate it made your chest contract. when he looked up at you, confusion dripped down his gaze like candle wax. "what do you mean?" he asked, coming to sit next to you, warm and easy. "fix what?"
you gave him a half-smile, genuinely believed he was just being polite. "i know i look crazy," you said, running your fingertips under your eyes. "i feel crazy."
his eyes filled with kind concern, not pity, but just care. he tentatively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you into his chest in an embrace that felt like a midday nap, exactly what you needed. "then i'm happy i couldn't stay away, crazy girl," he said, and it was so soft it hurt. "tell me." a request, only because he wanted to know. he wanted to know you.
and, after a sigh, you did tell him, just as you'd told sam. you told him about how scared you were, about how you could feel how he was different, how you knew it like some philosophical principle, but how you were terrified, anyways.
you told him about how dumb, how juvenile and stupid you'd felt, over and over again, just for wanting to be taken seriously, just for wanting someone to deem you worthy of something longer than a night. just for wanting someone to stay. you told him about how you'd had people be so sweet and kind and caring, but they'd still left after they'd gotten what they'd wanted.
and you sort of felt pathetic as you spoke, and you half expected him to laugh, to tell you that you were like every other girl, expecting un-promised things from some poor guy. but, of course, he didn't. of course, he just held you to his chest, listened to you the entire time, his thumb rubbing circles into your upper arm.
"i don't want you to think that i think you're a bad guy," you made sure to say, looking up at him, "and i don't want you to think that i don't care about your life, and your anxieties, and stuff, just because i'm rambling about mine." you let your eyes flood with everything you were feeling. "but i also don't want you to think i'm disinterested, or bored, or something."
he hummed, and it was quiet, for a moment, as your words rolled around his head. "what do you want me to think, then?" he asked, finally, gently.
you leaned your head on his shoulder, thought for a second. "i want you to know that i'm into you," you landed on, and the truth tasted sweet on your tongue. "and i want to ask you to keep being patient with me, please." your mouth quirked up. "like you already are, i guess."
his smile was something dreamy before he pressed his lips to your hair. "how about this?" he said, a murmur, "how about you let me try to convince you i'm staying, hm? trust me to?"
you found yourself nodding.
"and if you want something, you just ask me, okay, baby?" he amended. "ask me, and i'll be here. promise."
you looked up at him through your lashes. "thank you," you breathed, after a pause, because a promise was something special. him being so soft with you was something special, too.
he gave a slight shrug, his smile almost a smirk. "you told me you're into me, baby," he said, like that explained everything.
you just laughed into his shoulder, felt fear melt away, dissolve into the air. "what did you come over for, again?" you joked, because you were supposed to be watching a movie, and instead you'd unloaded all this information on him. instead, you'd told him how you felt.
but he didn't seem to hear the joke in your tone. "to see you," he said, simply, making you flush.
eventually, you watched the second scream movie, which was your favorite, and you asked about his day, and you continued to add to the filing cabinet of information about jack that existed in your mind. eventually, the dim light and night air made your words slow and your eyes droopy. eventually, the two of you fell asleep.
when your eyes fluttered awake, sunlight poured in through your curtains like flour through a sieve. your limbs felt stiff, your neck tight, having fallen asleep in an awkward position, but your head was clear, not foggy at all. you'd slept scarily well.
a slight shift on your mattress drew your attention, and your eyes widened when you registered jack, still asleep, still in the clothes he'd come in last night. you looked around to find your laptop on the floor, jack's sweatshirt halfway off the side of the bed.
checking your phone for the time, you mouthed a curse, because you were already late for your eight a.m. you must have forgotten to set your alarm for this morning. admittedly, you had been awfully busy last night, in a comfortable sort of way. you'd had much more important things on your mind than today's lecture, namely the way jack's voice grew rougher as the hours passed. namely, how he shared things with you like he trusted you with everything, like he knew you'd take care of him.
you silently rose, crept to the bathroom to brush your teeth and quickly get ready. when you emerged again, you were relieved to find his eyes still closed.
he looked so peaceful, like this, so blissful, almost angelic. the morning sun settled on his face, the crown of his head like a halo, his chest rising and falling with even breaths.
as you pulled on a different shirt and shorts, you couldn't help the small smile that stretched across your face. because, you remembered, you'd told him everything, and he had stayed. when you looked over at him, he didn't disappear. he was really, genuinely there, and had felt comfortable enough in your bed, in your space, to fall asleep with his arm under your neck, with his knee grazing your hip.
only when you picked up your backpack did he stir, reaching a hand to rub over his face, stretching with a groan that made you blush. when he retracted his hand, resting it up against your headboard, his sleepy gaze found yours. he smiled, an instinct, a compulsion. you smiled back. "tryna sneak out on me?" he said, yawning halfway through.
you approached the side of the bed he was laying on, by your nightstand, bent down and sat back on your heels so you were close to eye level with him. "no," you told him, honestly. you pushed his hair back from his face, and he hummed at your touch, eyes drowsy, getting used to the light from the window. perhaps still getting used to the light of you. "just didn't want to wake you."
he exhaled, and you felt the heat of it on your arm. "going to class?" he asked.
you nodded, smiled. "but i'll see you later, maybe?" you asked, hopeful. "i'll text you?"
"please," was his reply.
before you pushed up from your knees, though, you bit your lip with indecision. "jack," you began.
"yeah, baby?" he asked, almost confused, certainly intrigued.
"remember when you said to tell you when i want something?" you tone had grown cautious.
"'course," he said, reaching a hand forward, under your chin, to keep your eyes trained on his.
you swallowed, shifted. "i want something."
he smiled, shy, in a flash of teeth, just so, so pleased. "anything," he answered, sleep now gone from his gaze, replaced with something sharper, something beautiful. "anything." he said it like a plea.
you breathed out, searched his eyes, then leaned forward slowly, pressed your lips gently to his. only for a second, soft as anything, barely there, before making to pull away again.
then his broad hand was on the side of your face, though, guiding you back to his mouth, this time harder in commitment but not in force. the positioning was kind of awkward, with him propped up on his elbow, and he tasted a little bitter from the morning, and your heart felt like it was buzzing, but it was perfect. it was perfect, all of it, because it was with him.
no running away, his kiss seemed to scream at you, not from me.
you hoped he could sense your promise by the way you reached an arm around his neck, by the way you relaxed into his mouth, practically a sigh of relief.
he felt like lazy laundry days and laughing in the kitchen and pinkie promises. he smelled like worn-out cologne from the night before. he felt like trust, and belief, and something meaningful. he felt like something, someone, you could get used to. someone you wanted to, at least.
you both pulled away, at some point, only just barely, enough to catch your breath. you ran your nails along the nape of his neck, watched his glossy gaze settle on you.
"'m really gonna be late, now," you said, dumb, but you didn't really care. you had greater things to care about, it seemed.
he laughed, and you felt it in your fingers. "they're lucky they're getting you at all," he said, and it was a rasp. his smile grew lopsided. "or maybe 'm the lucky one."
you gave a slight shake of your head. he just said these kinds of things, and he didn't think about how they'd make your vision spin. how terribly inconsiderate. "i'll see you later?" you clarified, giving his shoulder a squeeze before getting up, lugging your backpack on.
he nodded, still a bit dazed, it seemed.
the thought made you smile. "bye, jack," you said, on your way out.
"bye, baby," he called out after you, a sing-song. you could hear the happiness leaking from his voice, could almost taste it.
time passed quickly and blissfully, from there. the semester began to rush forward in a flurry of classes and chapter meetings and philanthropy obligations, all which were cut with movie nights with jack in your room, nights on which he slept over more often than not (you swore every time he came over he stole a different sweatshirt of yours. your closet was starting to look scarce, but whenever you saw him push the too-tight sleeves up on his forearms, you couldn't find it in yourself to mind), dance class on friday afternoons (you didn't know how someone could be so tragically terrible at ballroom as you seemed to be, but you looked forward to it, all the same), parties at tke on the weekends (you grew to know his friends and brothers and their girlfriends, grew to be a part of their little world).
tonight was one of those parties, and you were in your room, trying to figure out what you were going to wear, before sam burst in the door.
"we're not going," she said, plain and simple, sitting on her bed.
you looked at her with a raised brow. "why not?" your eyes widened. "what did alex do?"
she rolled her eyes. "it's not alex," she explained. "i told nico no more bros and hoes bullshit a long time ago, and he didn't listen." she shook her head, as if disappointed. "what is the theme, if not golf bros and tennis club hoes?"
you gave a light laugh. "so we're actually not going?"
"nope," sam declared, "already put it in the chat. a phi is boycotting."
as if on cue, you received a text from jack that read coming tonight?
haven't you heard, you sent back, a phi is on strike :)
you accepted his almost instantaneous face-time request, grinning as his pretty features filled your screen. "what do you mean you're on strike?" was his immediate question.
"hi to you, too, jack," you teased, your stomach flipping when his eyes filled with something soft.
"hi, baby, 'm sorry," he amended, and his voice was genuine.
you waved his apology off lightheartedly. "i'm under strict presidential orders," you told him, "apparently nico didn't heed the warning about the bros and hoes thing."
jack groaned, then looked away from the screen for a second. "they're not coming," he called out to someone, "like, actually, all of a phi is not coming."
"and we're not budging!" sam called out from her bed.
"is that sam?" came another voice from jack's end. "put her on."
and so the phones were passed to alex and sam, respectively.
"c'mon, sam," alex said, the most emotion you'd heard from him in a while. "you guys need to come out. we need you there."
it was true, sort of. they needed girls there, and a phi was plentiful with pretty smiles and kind laughs.
"no can do, al," sam said, smug. "tke needs to learn their lesson."
alex blinked.
"will you put nico on, please?" sam asked, syrupy sweet. "i have some choice words for him."
"no, you can't talk to nico," alex responded, short.
"what's the deal, madam?" came a very nico-sounding voice, off screen. "it's a good theme, eh? think you'd look great in a tennis skirt."
you rolled your eyes.
"what, won't let him talk without his lawyer present?" sam pressed.
jack's laugh was bright. you felt it through the screen.
"he can talk to you when he puts a shirt on," was the curt response.
you smirked. alex was not doing a very good job of shielding his emotions, not anymore.
"you know me better than that, don't you?" sam asked, almost offended. "not one to get distracted easily by a bare chest."
alex sighed, rubbed a hand over his face.
"are you saying you get distracted by nico's abs, al?" sam continued. "i mean, i get it, even if i can't relate personally."
"you're not talking to him, sam," alex said. "our theme for tonight is not up for debate. it's too late."
sam gave a dramatic sigh, appeared deep in thought.
"well, can i talk to quinn, then?" sam said. "not for any reason, really, just want to see his face."
you bit your lip out of frame, smiled, because you had a feeling jack was doing something similar. you had a feeling that if you were in the same room, right now, you'd be sharing a knowing glance, a hidden laugh. you felt warm with that knowledge.
"quinn's busy," alex bit out. you could almost hear his grinding teeth.
sam just gave a theatrical pout that had you giggling.
"shame," sam said, a winning smile on her face.
you heard alex's deep exhale. "you're killing me, here, beautiful," he said, a sigh. your eyes widened. was alex finally breaking?
sam just hummed. "'s that my sweatshirt you're wearing, al?" she asked. "color looks nice on you."
then she handed the phone back to you, walked from the room, and when you looked down at the screen, alex was gone, too, leaving only the soft slope of jack's nose, messy hair in his face. "hi," you said, a smile bubbling free.
"hi," he parroted. "if you're not coming, then, what're you doing tonight?"
you shrugged. "probably just watching a movie here," you said. "nothing crazy."
his nose twitched, his eyes shone with an unasked question.
"wanna join?" you asked, loving the way his face lit up at your invitation.
he sucked on his teeth, and your stomach coiled with heat at the sight. "think 'm technically supposed to be here," he said, to which you pouted. "but i might be able to sneak out."
"sneak outta your own party?" you asked, a light laugh on your mouth like a sparkly gloss.
"for you," he added, which made your laugh settle into something dangerous.
you scrunched up your face in delight. "'ll leave my window open, then," you said.
"thank you, baby," he said, waited for you to hang up first.
you did leave your window open, let the cool nighttime breeze ease in, blowing your curtains slightly, the edges of your sheets by your feet. you were comfortably on your side, your mind quiet as your eyes lazily took in your computer screen.
the tassels on your drapes seemed to sing at jack's knock on the window pane. the fixtures in your room seemed to relax, the wood of your desk turning malleable, the light on the ceiling to burn hotter, dimmer.
play it cool, you wanted to shush them, the way you whisper to your friends in middle school when your crush walks past your locker, just act normal.
your smile crept up on you, slow and genuine, as he swung his other leg over, shut the window again, immediately kicking off his sneakers and collapsing on top of you, the weight of him almost oppressive against your chest, your face.
you laughed nonetheless, wrapped your arms around his middle to hug him closer, to breathe him in. you felt his neck relax, his heavy head hang just above your shoulder. he let out a breath, like he was exhaling everything heavy. like he was making space for you in his lungs, in his chest, in his being.
you rubbed gentle circles into his back over his sweatshirt. "successful jailbreak?" you murmured, your voice muffled into his chest.
he pressed his lips to your shoulder, gently, before rolling off of you, soft as anything but sparking heat between the two of you nonetheless. "you've made a fugitive out of me," he joked, laying an arm over your torso and pulling you into his side.
"sure they won't be missing you?" you asked, brushing his hair from his face. his eyes simmered with something lovely.
he gave a shrug you felt through your whole body. "if i was there, i'd be missin' you," he clarified in explanation. of course, your heart stuttered like a shy kid giving a speech at an all-school assembly.
"i'm glad you're here," you said, soft, the words not feeling like nearly enough. you hooked one leg around his, tangling the two of you further, then rethought your action.
because you'd known guys who'd groan at this kind of thing from you, who would warn you not to start something you couldn't finish, who would call you a tease or something much meaner.
but, of course, jack did no such thing. he just relaxed deeper into the position, nodded towards your abandoned computer. "what're we watching?" he asked.
you swallowed. it struck you as weird, that his endless patience and kindness sparked something hot in your stomach, that you wanted to give him anything and everything, all because he would never demand it of you.
his hand on your back suddenly felt heavy, his leg under yours too warm. you hummed, tilted your head up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
you could feel him smile against your lips. "what's that for, baby?" he asked, rough.
"for you," you answered, simply.
you felt his pleased exhale in your bones as he took your chin in his hand, led your mouth to his in a deeper kiss, this time, one that felt like coffee mugs with lipstick on the rim, like good morning texts before you wake up, like burning fireplaces in the winter, fragrant and lively. "so sweet for me, baby," he mumbled against your mouth.
you sighed, ran your fingertips along his jaw, found courage in the blue of his eyes that willed your nerves away. "can i have something, please?"
"anything," he answered, softly, immediately, as he always had.
you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, wondering what you were actually asking for. "i just want," you started, uncertain, then started again. "just-"
you cut yourself off with a shaky exhale, reaching an arm around his neck, shifted your body until you were on top of him, kissed him with something feverish in your veins. he let out some kind of whimper-ish sound, so strained, so desperate, as his hand found your hips, held you to him with intention.
you kissed him like you were burning, like you needed him to taste the flame of your want, like your desire was some burden you couldn't possibly shoulder alone.
he didn't seem to mind, anyways, quite the opposite - he kissed you back like he'd take anything you'd give him, like the fire you were exuding was water in a drought, like you were some fabled savior. like you were saving him.
you pulled gently at the hem of his pink sweatshirt, or yours, rather, withdrew slightly to help him tug it off. he was so beautiful, always, but especially now, glowing in the light of your bedroom, flushed entirely because of you, eyelids heavy with attraction.
you stilled, straddling his hips, his back against your headboard as you traced the veins in his arms with your fingertips.
his thumbs slipped under your sleep shorts, rubbed feather-light circles into the flesh of your hips. "tell me what you need, baby," he said. "whatever you want, swear it."
you bit your lip to dull your smile, because you realized, in that moment, that there was no semblance of fear in your mind. not even a drop of doubt. you knew, that no matter what you gave to him, no matter how much of yourself you offered up, he wouldn't leave you, dumb and ashamed, standing alone in some taunting doorway. he'd stay.
the fact made unfiltered want flow through you, powerful as a river after heavy rain.
you met his gaze with a confidence that hadn't been there in a long time, that he seemed to pull from you with ease. you rocked your hips against his lap, relished in the strain you saw in his eyes. "wanna feel you inside me," you rasped, continuing to shift back and forth. "wanna make you feel good, hm?"
you felt his groan in your teeth as he flipped you on your back in a single, swift motion, left messy, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck. he didn't saw anything about how long he'd been waiting, about how long you'd made him wait, and you had a feeling it was because he genuinely didn't care.
you had a feeling the only thing he cared about, in this current moment, was the feeling of your collarbone under his teeth, the way your hands rooted in the curls of his hair, the not-nearly-enough friction of his grinding hips against yours.
you both twisted and tugged clothes aside, hurried, almost crazed, until you could take him in your palm, hard and hot, run your grip up and down his length, urging a groan from his throat that you wanted to taste. his exhales were so, so labored as his hips jerked towards you involuntarily.
your eyes widened, because you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be with someone like this, to be with someone whom you trusted entirely, someone whose pleasure you could feel as deeply as if it was your own. it made your blood feel volcanic as it beat from your heart.
"please, jack," you begged, and his overwhelmed gaze found yours, again.
"i know, baby," he cooed, running his fingers through your folds, cursing under his breath at how wet he found you, from barely being touched. all from him. your grip around him faltered as he pushed two fingers inside of you, the stretch immediate. "i know." you cursed, shut your eyes as he thumbed your clit, making your breath feel heavy in your mouth. he retreated further. "just wanna taste you first, baby, please?"
you just nodded, perfectly happy to give him any he wanted. then his mouth was on you, his tongue slow, methodical, as you tugged at his hair, your face pinched in pleasure.
pressure coiled inside of you as he pressed his tongue flat against your clit, making your back arch up of your bed, the friction dreamy.
the weight of him pressed your hips down, heightening the sensation, making each motion of his fingers feel like an eruption of flame, each swipe of his tongue feel monumental.
you choked out a whine of his name, pulled on his curls just a little harder, lewd, slick noises echoing in your ears. "more," you breathed, to which he groaned, rocked his hips against the bed, desperate for some kind of friction, some kind of relief. the sight had you clenching around his fingers.
"not enough?" he asked, his voice gentle, the fervor of his motions anything but. "need more, do you, pretty thing?" you nodded, whimpered a please, which had him pulling his deft fingers from you, shifting closer to you. he angled his cock to your core, held your hips down with his other hand. he hummed. "you can have it, baby."
your eyes fluttered shut as he began to push inside of you with a moan that you swore made your lampshade blush, made the conservative hangers in your closet shake their heads, disappointed. you grasped at his forearm with a reaching hand, fisted the other in your cotton sheets, the texture heightened in your palm.
you felt the stretch everywhere, half expected your bedroom to crack in half, to feel the pressure just as acutely as you did. "almost there, baby, 'atta girl," he bit out, "fuck, feel so good for me."
you whined at his words, at the feeling of him all the way inside of you, that perfect stretch that gave way to something deliriously good as he began to move and in out, slow, deep.
you felt your eyes roll back, as if in slow motion, as you dug your nails into his arm, shuddered at the sensation as he pressed your hips harder into your mattress. "'s so deep, jack, fuck," you breathed, careful as a wince.
he held the top of your headboard with a steady grip, increased his pace. when he spoke, his voice was gritty. "that okay, baby?" he asked, shifting your hips to make you more comfortable, to make the angle feel better. "how's that?"
"so good," you moaned, raw, "feel you everywhere."
and it was true. he thrust in and out of you at a mind-numbing pace, with an intensity that burned through your body. time seemed to freeze, or maybe to liquify, to flow like molten rock. to scatter into oblivion, marked in breathy pants and strained moans, desperate kisses and tired muscles instead of minutes and seconds.
at some point, he took his hand off of your headboard, brought it to his mouth, bit down, as if to stifle a groan, as if to distract himself, last longer for you.
the thought shot right to your core, made your head spin faster, that his pleasure might run so deep, because of you, that he needed a distraction from it.
you moved your hand to your clit, rubbing carefully, moaning at the stimulation, which made you clench down, grip him in a maddening kind of way.
he gave a choked moan. "fuck," he grunted. "can't, jesus, can't do it, baby, so wet for me." his voice was a tortured sort of overwhelmed as his hips sputtered, as his pace continued, harder, faster.
he made to look away from you, maybe to sink his teeth into the flesh of his hand, again, but you wouldn't let him, instead reaching up to pull his fingers to your own mouth, press them against your tongue, soothe the angry red mark that had begun to show.
you swore your mind was somewhere else, somewhere shiny, somewhere sleepy, as you felt his stomach and thighs contract, firm and wiry.
"won't last like this, pretty thing," he breathed, a slight sheen on his collarbones, his forehead, shimmery under the overhead light. "so close, baby, feel too good for me." his exhale was unsteady. "so perfect like this."
"want it," you whined, so impossibly close, yourself. "need it so bad, baby, please. want all of it." your eyes met his. "need you."
he seemed to shatter at your words, at your request, his high, warm and hazy, triggering your own, a blur of whines and pleases and his hot breath at your temple, an all-consuming wave that had your vision blurring, had you clenching down on him so tightly.
he collapsed on top of you for the second time that night, this time his skin glowy and damp, the air sticky and humid as you both let your breathing normalize again, as you let your eyes flutter open.
he rolled to your side, refusing to unclasp his arms around your back, consequently pulling you to his chest, your nose against his breastbone. you traced a hand along the top of his spine, so perfectly content, so wonderfully blissful.
with anyone else, now would be the time when the anxiety really set in. now would be the time that the furniture started to hiss at you to get out.
such anxiety was nowhere to be found, though, not now. not with him. his rough hands felt soft on your back as he shifted deeper into your bed, making himself comfortable, making you comfortable, too, in succession.
and even though you knew it, he knew you, just so, so well. "'m staying," he whispered into your hair, "long as you'll let me."
your heart was pink jello in your chest. you pressed your swollen lips to his shoulder. "i'll let you," you promised.
and so your self-proclaimed frat-boy-ban was broken, completely done away with, replaced instead by the most delicious stability.
the already fast-paced semester was made a fairytale blur by your beautiful exception, in all of his endless kindness, his unrelenting loveliness.
how many afternoons did you spend in his lap, out on his front lawn? how many nights did you fall asleep together, tangled up in each other? how many parties started with his hat backwards on his head, but ended with it on yours, instead? when did you start to leave your window open, every night? how many mornings did he surprise you with coffee, remembering your order like it mattered, simply because it was something you'd told him? how many times did his beauty and thoughtfulness surprise you, again and again?
like the time you went with him to a baseball game, an away one, this time, to support his friends and brother, when you insisted that you'd drive. you'd had to stop for gas, halfway through, gotten out of your truck, had only just stuck the nozzle in before he'd come around the side to lean against the door.
you had felt yourself raise a brow, almost confused. "sort of a one person job," you'd joked, to which he'd smiled, leaned back further against the side, just waiting with you.
like he couldn't bear to sit in the passenger seat, alone, not when you were out here, hands idle.
or like the night of your ballroom dance midterm performance, in front of an audience (an audience that included a lot of your friends). you'd stumbled halfway through the steps, nothing crazy, but certainly enough to notice. your face had grown hot, an embarrassed strawberry-milk flush.
but then, across the stage, jack had tripped over his own feet, in a way that looked pretty intentional, if you thought so yourself, as if he wanted to draw everyone's attention for a moment. as if he wanted to keep any potentially judgmental eyes off of you. he caught your knowing gaze as he pushed himself off of the floor, shot you a cheeky wink.
or, like tonight, a phi's blind date formal. this event was always a highlight of the year, at the very least always entertaining, always a good source of drama, of gossip, for a few weeks following.
planning it was a nightmare, from what sam had told you, a disorienting flurry of spreadsheets and communications with different frats and teams. typically, each house was matched with a frat and an athletic roster, and the dates were assigned from there, based on survey results and different requests.
you were excited for tonight, not nervous at all, because you'd requested jack as your date, and sam practically ran the whole thing, so you knew there would be no surprises.
for you, tonight was just a fun opportunity to dress up, to hang out with your best friends and your favorite boy.
the reveal of the dates was one of the best parts of the night. you'd be called upon to come out the door, and your date was supposed to be standing on the front step to walk you to the venue of the formal, just a few blocks away.
you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror, turned to sam as you slung your clutch over your shoulder. "ready?" you asked, to which sam gave herself a spritz of perfume, nodded. you held the door for her. "did you tell me already if you requested somebody?"
she gave you a grin. "quinn," she said, simply.
you laughed. "you're gonna drive poor alex crazy," you chided.
she just shrugged. "he's driving me crazy, more like," she corrected. "all he does is bitch and moan when i mention other guys, then he wears my sweatshirt like it's all he owns, calls me beautiful, all that nonsense." she gave you a look. "i'm losing hope, love. if he doesn't make a legitimate move soon, i might go for quinn for real, just for all his trouble."
when it was your turn to open the front door, you took a breath, turned the handle, weren't surprised to find that familiar figure on the other side, pink flowers in his hand, his suit fitting him so wonderfully, his eyes softening when they caught on you.
your smile came easily, so naturally, as you approached him. he reached an arm around your middle, pulled you into his embrace by the small of your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you pressed your lips to his jaw in greeting before he pulled back.
"let me get a look at you," he said, soft, holding your hand at a distance, giving you a twirl that made you feel like a princess. he whistled. "i'm the one on your arm, tonight, pretty thing?" he asked, his smile toothy. "must be my lucky night."
you flushed with contentment, ducked into his side. "i'm the lucky one," you insisted, before the door opened again, making the two of you move to the sidewalk as he handed you your flowers, which you accepted with bashful thanks.
sam now stood in the open doorframe, but her wandering eyes narrowed when they landed on the curly-haired boy that stood on the front step. "what the hell is this about, alex?" she hissed.
"you look lovely, sam," alex said, undeterred.
"yeah, okay, thanks," sam said, "you know i requested-"
"i know," alex interrupted. "i vetoed your reuqest." he offered her his arm, which she took, lightly, reluctantly.
"that's not how this works," she reminded him, "you don't get a veto."
"i'm the president," he deadpanned, "of course i get a veto."
"i'm the president," sam retorted, "and i requested-"
alex sighed, turned to face sam, placed his palm over her mouth. "stop," he said, short, "talking."
her eyes narrowed, and jack pinched your side as you took in the sight in front of you. you shared an excited look.
"please be my date, tonight," alex asked, removing his hand from sam's face only after her mouth stopped moving. "for real."
after a brief pause, sam's mouth broke into a wide grin as she looped her arm through alex's, fell into step behind you and jack. "get up off your hands and knees, al," she teased, "'course i'll be your date. waited long enough, haven't i?"
it was a storybook sort of night from there, one defined by shared laughter and good music and gushing with your friends about their dresses.
time passed too fast in a blur of dance-floor spins that made the hem of your dress bloom, gentle touches and laughs into shoulders.
at some point, you and sam took a break by the edge of the venue, next to the refreshment table, having promised to bring jack back a drink. sophie approached you. you smiled, having not really seen her since the last chapter meeting.
"hey, sophie," you said, "this dress is stunning on you."
"thank you," sophie said, genuinely, before her eyes flashed. "if you see cole come up behind me, warn me, okay?"
"isn't cole your date, though?" sam asked.
sophie sighed. "technically, yes," she admitted, "but he thinks i requested him, which i didn't, so now he's being especially persistent."
you tilted your head. "so you got paired together because your survey results matched up? completely organically?"
"i guess," she answered, exasperated. "which i don't get, because we have, like, nothing in common."
"you have a little in common," sam said, "you both love baseball. it's, like, all you talk about."
"okay, so we have one thing in common," sophie conceded. "it's a conflict of interest! i'm supposed to be an impartial reporter!"
you shrugged. "impartiality is overrated," you said, and you meant it. now that you'd settled into being completely honest about how you felt, you couldn't imagine it any other way, couldn't fathom hiding that kind of thing from people that mattered.
"code cole, code cole," sam whispered.
"soph, you gotta stop running away from me," cole said, coming up behind her, shooting her that confident smirk. "tirin' me out, love."
sophie sighed, turned to face him, crossed her arms over her chest.
"care for a dance?" cole asked, extending his hand to her.
her gaze dipped to his fingers, then rose again. "i'll dance with you," she said, which made cole light up with excitement, "if you agree to give me at least one objectively useable quote after ever single game for the rest of the year."
cole blew out a breath like it was the easiest decision of his life. "done," he declared. he gave an enthusiastic fist pump when sophie took his hand and led him to the floor.
leaning back against the table, you and sam scanned the room, laughing at trevor's ridiculously bold suit, scoffing at nico, who was dancing with two girls at the same time, sharing a knowing glance when you registered quinn and luke, sitting at a table on the outskirts, luke's tie completely untied, quinn's tied around his head. the two loners appeared to be engaged in a game of cards with their respective dates.
eventually, you made good on your promise to jack, grabbing two drinks. when you turned your back on the table, he was walking up to you, his face pleasantly flushed, eyes so doting. your smile grew as he got closer. your eyes shut, delighted, when he threw an arm around your shoulders.
"there you are, baby," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. you were hit with a dizzying sense of deja vu, knowing you'd been here before, knowing so much had changed since the last time you'd been in this position. "thanks for holding my drink for me."
you smiled up at him, leaning into his side, warm and firm against you. it was something magnificent, to have it not be an act, this time. to have it be completely genuine. to have it be real.
"of course, baby," you said, the slight tease in your tone made shimmery by the glint in his gaze.
he hummed, moved his arm down to wrap around your waist, pull you against him as he swayed back and forth to the music. you exhaled, so utterly at peace, relaxed into his chest, tilted your head back to look up at him. he met your gaze eagerly, that smile you so adored overtaking his face like a mural on the side of a building. "what?" he asked.
you shook your head, laughed lightly. because what, really? how could you sum it up? "you," you answered, honestly. "just you."
how could you sum him up? he was one million things. your pretend boyfriend in the face of campus security. your ballroom dance partner. your movie-night, good-morning text, sweatshirt stealer. your window-climber, baseball-watcher, owner of your favorite smile. your tke boy. your exception.
he was one million things, but, when he leaned down to press his lips to your hair, he was only one.
yours.
fin.
865 notes · View notes
hockeyshmockey · 1 month
Text
Desi Girl
Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr x indian!reader
Context: Attending a desi wedding with bae
ps: No specific faceclaim, i got every image from pinterest. Desi girls need some love too and i love carlos so i thought he would be the perfect fit for this.
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yourusername
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yourusername shaadi (wedding) time!!
ps; not my shaadi, my sister's
tagged: carlossainz55
landonorris where's my invite
yourusername remember the time we invited you for diwali and you almost burned yourself bc YOU INSISTED TO LIGHT FIRECRACKERS WITH MY BROTHER landonorris no regrets yourusername you almost died dummy landonorris like i said no regrets carlossainz55 .... ynloversz i love how carlos is so used to their banter that he stays out of it lest he too face the wrath of y/n yncarlos tired older sister and annoying younger brother dynamic ynmylove the fact that she already has a younger brother who annoys tf outta her and now she gotta deal with lando and her lil bro mywifeyn my girl cant catch a break😭
charlesleclerc i wanted to come too...
yourusername you can come when we get married carlossainz55 what she said^^^
yummyyn they’re so in love😩😩😩
carlitoyn mother is mothering; daddy is daddying
ynwifey shes so so mommy😩
randohater yeah must be fun mooching off your millionaire bf
ynloversz oh someone hold me back im boutta get violent
mywifeyn its always these ignorant americans smh 🤦
ynmyqueen her family is hella rich and practically run almost everything in India so before hating on someone who is way richer and prettier than you, do your research cuz this is embarrassing for you.
f1wags
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f1wags Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend Y/n Y/l/n in Jaipur, Rajasthan at her cousin sister's wedding. Both looking quite good in traditional indian outfit.
carlito55 OMG CARLOS IN A KURTA. THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT CARLOS IN A KURTA
carlyn MY JAW DROPPED. THEY LOOK SO GORGGGGG
Ynfanacc mother slaying as usual
yourusername
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youusername with meri jaan (my life)🫶
tagged: carlossainz55
ynloversz “meri jaan”🥹
carlitoyn tell me why I’m crying
carlyn they love each other so much I’m crying
carlossainz55 tum meri jaan ho ❤️ (you are my life)
ynwifey Carlos replied in Hindi Oml I’m boutta cry
landonorris did yn help you type this or did you use google translate??😑
yourusername I may have helped a bit
carlossainz55 tu gadha hai (you’re an idiot) landonorris
yourusername now that’s all him, I’m so proud that he’s learning hindi 🥹 (btw my brother taught him that)
yourbrother roasteddd
Ynnnn55 they visited a temple together omlll
ynpyaar (pyaar means love) I literally met them today and they are even cuter and down to earth in real life.
yncarlos I love that even though both of them are really rich they’re still so down to earth which honestly makes them even more attractive
carlitoyn it’s not even just yn, but her entire family is also like that, honestly love her family, they’re such kind souls, it’s no surprise yn is too
carlossainz55
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carlossainz55 with mi amor ❤️(my love)
yourusername I love you ❤️
carlossainz55 I love you more baby landonorris i see you have no shame yourusername what is our crime?? landonorris having fun without me yourusername 😐 carlossainz55 😐
yncarlos THE IT COUPLE!!!!
carlitoyn MISS MAAM YOUR OUTFIT!!!! THE HENNA ON YOUR FEET!!! THE FIRST PIC SO CUTE IM GONNA PASS OUT
liked by yourusername and carlossainz55
ynwifey THEM DANCING IS SO ADORABLE
carlossainz55 posted a story
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caption: everyone is tired 🫨
yourusername
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caption: 🥳🥳
yourusername
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caption: Congratulations didi (older sister) and jiju (brother in law)
carlossainz55
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carlossainz55 fun couple of days with mi amor
tagged: yourusername
yourusername carlos drank so much chai, he has become a certified indian now🫡
carlossainz55 mazaa aaya (had fun) yourusername Im glad 😘
landonorris better get an invite to y'all's wedding
yourusername of course lando carlossainz55 could be any day now so you better check your mail ynloversz WHAT
carlitoyn always eating with the looks queen 😍
f1wags you guys are a beautiful couple truly ❤️
comments have been limited on this post...
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author's note: Y'all would not believe how much i enjoyed this. Ive been super inactive because ive been super busy with stuff plus with not wanting to write but hopefully im back and will be writing more stuff, a lot F1 related bc im into F1 rn.
264 notes · View notes
hockeyshmockey · 1 month
Text
Living for over protective big brother Quimby
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OFF LIMITS
nico hischier x hughes sister!reader
It’s not the first time they’ve run into you on a night out, and Nico’s pretty sure it won’t be the last. You live in New York, close enough that your paths overlap quite often. It is, however, the first time he’s seen you this drunk. On top of that, it’s the first time Nico’s run into you without your brothers with him.
Jack may be younger than you, but what he lacks in age he makes up for in overprotectiveness. When they run into you at a bar, Nico rarely gets a chance to even say a word to you before Jack is questioning how much you’ve had to drink or why you’re even out in the first place.
But Jack is in Toronto, for the All Stars game, and Luke’s still too young to be out at a bar and is also out of town, and you’re there, standing under a neon sign, leaning up against the wall. You look hazy. Out of it. There’s a guy standing nearly over you, arm next to your head on the wall. Nico’s stomach twists.
“Isn’t that Hughes’ sister?” Someone asks.
Nico nods, juts his chin at the scene unfolding. “Does she look uncomfortable to you?”
His teammate lets out a snort. “Was wondering the same thing.”
Nico keeps a watchful eye on the situation for just a moment. He doesn’t want to overstep, but something feels off. When you put your hand on the guy’s shoulder and try to push him away, and he stays put, caging you in farther, the switch flips. He’s gone from concerned friend to overprotective captain within a second. He passes his beer off to someone and makes his way across the bar in a few short steps.
“Hey man. Back off.” He snaps.
The guy turns with a glare. Nico stands his ground. Your eyes meet his, and he watches relief wash over your face. He knows then that he’s made the right choice.
“I saw her first,” the guy sneers.
Nico really didn’t want to get in a fight tonight. He was supposed to have a chill night out with the guys, maybe talk to a couple girls, get his mind off of… things. But now he’s here.
“Nico,” you say, softly, and he watches the guy’s face drop as he realizes you know Nico.
“Hi,” he says, kindly and quietly to you. He juts his chin at the guy and shoves his shoulder firmly. “Get lost.”
The man melts away into the crowd. Nico watches him go. Then he turns back to you, to where you’re leaning against the wall, doe eyed and drunk as hell as you stare up at him. His breath gets caught in his throat for just a moment- if your brothers knew the things he thought about when you looked at him like that, they’d have his head. Jack and Luke are a bit oblivious, he thinks. He’s lucky he’s not around you and Quinn at the same time very often. There was that game last year, in Vancouver- you in your Devils jersey, elbowing him lightly, and Quinn’s glare trained on him, one raised brow, like he was just waiting for Nico to take a wrong step.
“My hero,” you say, reaching out to tug on his wrist.
Your words are extremely slurred, and when he gets a closer look he realizes you’re probably close to blacking out. The light is gone from your eyes. He winces.
“Okay, schatz,” he says. He ruffles your hair just to get you to stop staring up at him through your eyelashes, afraid of the way it makes his heart jump. “Can I call someone to come get you?”
You shrug. “Where’s Jacky? Or Lukey?”
Nico groans. “Toronto, and who knows. Not here, though.”
You purse your lips. “Right.” You dig in your pocket for your phone, find it, and Nico watches you try and turn the screen on with no luck- it’s dead. “Huh. That’s not good.”
And… Nico could call one of your brothers. Could ask for some sort of phone number- a roommate or a friend or anyone. But as you stare up at him, you lean away from the wall and fall into his chest, and he knows he needs to act quickly. Preferably before you pass out at the bar.
…..
You don’t remember the walk out of the bar, or the car ride, or the elevator up to the apartment that you’re sure you must’ve taken. Your world zaps back into focus on the entryway of Nico’s apartment. You’ve been here twice- both for parties. It’s different when it’s not full of people. Feels more like Nico.
You toe your shoes off in the doorway. Nico swipes them to the side with his foot and then reaches out to catch you when you stumble. You lean into his shoulder and laugh- he smells good, like honey and whiskey. You want to breathe him in. He laughs, too- you can tell by the way his broad shoulders shake.
He leads you out of the entryway and into the kitchen. He grabs you by your hips to maneuver you, and you nearly squeal at the feeling of his fingers splayed against your body. Instead, when he moves you to lean against the counter, you sigh. You brace yourself, elbows on the granite, and stare up at him as he moves through the room.
“Stop staring at me like that,” he says in a warning tone.
“Like what?” You ask, innocently.
If he’d look at you, you’d bat your eyelashes at him. But he’s not looking, and you’re not going to waste your energy. He has his head in the fridge, an empty glass in his hand. He returns with a pitcher of water and pours it into the glass before sliding it over to you.
He never clarifies what he means by staring like that. You want to circle back to it, but you’re getting really tired, and the water is cool and refreshing. You laugh when you spill a little bit, the water running down your chin and neck. Nico just groans and rolls his eyes.
“You’re drunk,” he states, like you both didn’t already know it.
You nod. “I had a lotta tequila.”
He gives you a look of exasperation mixed with affection. “Trying to forget?”
You shrug. “Something like that.”
Once you’ve finished the glass, he starts maneuvering you again, hands on your shoulders this time as he walks you down the hallway. You wonder what it would be like to have him do this all the time- maybe when you’re not drunk. Does he manhandle his girlfriends, his dates, like this? Maybe manhandle isn’t the right word. You don’t feel handled, you feel… taken care of. Like he’s making sure you’re exactly where you should be. It’s sweet. It makes you shiver just a little bit.
He mistakes the movement for a chill, and he rubs his hands up and down your shoulders. You sigh. The two of you step into the bathroom, and he digs through the drawer until he finds a new toothbrush and toothpaste, and he hands them both to you.
You stumble your way towards the bedroom five minutes later, his hands on your hips again. He pushes open the door to his bedroom and leads you to the bed, having you sit down on the edge while he heads for the dresser. You look around. You’ve been to his place, but never here. It’s… calm. Quiet. The sheets and duvet beneath you are soft, and the lmao next to the bed casts a warm glow over everything. He has trophies taking up space on his desk. The bed is unmade, blankets rumpled and messy.
“Always wondered what your room looked like,” you say.
His shoulders tense, though he shakes it out a few moments after. “Yeah?”
You nod, forgetting he isn’t looking at you, and then supplement with words. “Can learn a lot about a person from their bedroom.”
He laughs and looks over his shoulder at you. “What have you learned, then?”
You shrug and cast your eyes to the ceiling. He goes back to rifling through the drawers. You flop backwards onto the end, laughing lightly at the way it bounces beneath you.
Something lands on your stomach- a large t-shirt and a pair of shorts. You pick them up and hold them above your head.
“Get changed,” he says. When you lean up to look at him, the whole room spins. He sighs, like he can tell. “I’ll be back in a second, okay?”
…..
Nico nearly panics five minutes later, because he knocks on the door to ask if you’re decent and you don’t answer. He’s torn between worry about seeing something he shouldn’t, and worry about you dying- one of them trumps the other, so he shoves his way into the room frantically.
You’re laid out on the bed, swallowed up by his t-shirt, the drawstring of the shorts pulled tight around your waist. Your lips are just barely parted, soft sighs escaping with each rise and fall of your chest. You’re asleep. He could leave you, but right now you’re asleep on your back, and very drunk, and he’s worried you’re going to throw up and- they warned him about that, years ago, when he first started going to parties. Friends don’t let friends sleep on their backs.
He crawls up onto the bed and tucks you into the blankets. Then he rolls you onto your side, and sighs when you immediately try to roll back onto your back. He repeats the process, and this time you groan loudly in response. Without really thinking about it, he sits down on the bed behind you and props his leg against your back. That seems to keep you in place- you lean into the warmth but you don’t try to roll over again.
So. That’s great, except, now he’s stuck. Realistically, he was going to stay anyways. If he was the last person to see you and something awful happened, he’d never forgive himself, and neither would your brothers. So it’s fine, really, that you’re leaning against him, but… you’re warm, and breathing softly, and your hair is strewn all over the pillowcase, and god, he hates the way it all makes him blush.
He can’t do anything about it, especially not now, with the state you’re in. So he just sits and watches you sleep, the way he’s sort of always dreamed about.
Hours later, Nico’s woken from a half asleep state by a loud noise- it’s his cell phone, ringing on the nightstand. He scrambles to pick up, blinking blearily at the screen. 4:53 am, and Jack is calling him. He wouldn’t normally answer, but it’s Jack, and by now he’s probably heard about you, so he swipes to take the call.
“It’s not even 5am, Jack,” he says softly.
“Hischier.” A voice returns- it’s not Jack.
“Quinn.” He replies, carefully.
He keeps his voice low. His gaze flickers down to you. You’re asleep -on your side, thank god- one arm wrapped around his leg. He swallows tightly and carefully brushes a stray piece of hair from your face. You don’t stir.
“It’s not even 5am,” he repeats.
Quinn scoffs. “I know. Woke up to go do some early morning training, and imagine my surprise when I see about ten texts from various people telling me you took my baby sister home with you last night.”
Right. Everybody knows everybody in the NHL. Nico rolls his eyes. You’re older than both Jack and Luke- you’re not a baby. He refrains from saying that, though- knowing it’ll only upset Quinn more. He may sound relatively calm now, but Nico can sense the undercurrent of tension.
“It’s not like that,” Nico says.
“Right. And you’re just whispering for the fun of it, then? Not because you’re afraid to wake her?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “She was wasted. I brought her back here to keep an eye on her. Did they tell you about how I nearly punched a guy to get him to leave her alone?”
He hears Quinn falter whatever he was going to say next. Then he speaks up again. “Doesn’t explain why you’re close enough to her right now that you’d need to be whispering.”
“I was worried she was going to choke on her own vomit,” Nico says curtly. “So I stayed up most of the night making sure she stayed on her side.”
“Right, sure, by what- curling up with her?” Quinn sneers.
Nico slumps down against the headboard. “Jesus, Hughes. You trusted me to take care of your brothers. You said that yourself. You can’t trust me with this?”
“It’s a bit different and we both know it,” Quinn says.
Nico figures that’s fair. If it was his sister… he understands. He just wishes Quinn would give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Look, man. Nothing happened. I swear to you, I wouldn’t ever do anything to harm her, alright? We ran into her at a bar, she was wasted and by herself and trying to push some guy away and he wasn’t letting up. So I put a stop to it, and we couldn’t call any of her friends because her phone was dead. And not sure if you’ve noticed, but your brothers are out of town. I didn’t want to leave her alone.”
He hears Quinn sigh. “You just happened to be there to save the day?”
Nico groans, this time a bit too loudly. You shift next to him, and suddenly you’re awake, blinking up at him with soft eyes. His heart catches in his chest. You wrinkle your nose, likely in confusion at the sight of him on the phone at 5am. He mouths your brother’s name, and your confusion only grows. You gesture for the phone.
“Quinn,” you say, sleepily. “It’s 5am. Why the fuck are you calling?”
Nico can’t hear what your brother is saying anymore- a welcome reprieve, really. You roll your eyes and he holds back a laugh. When he meets your gaze, you’re fighting a laugh, too, he thinks.
“So you called because you were checking on me, right?” You ask, blinking up at Nico. “Not to harass my friend, right? Because that would be a rude thing to do at 5am, you know.”
You’re quiet for a few more moments. Then you yawn and roll your eyes again. “Okay. Well. I’m fine. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”
You hang up on him. Nico’s torn between laughter and panic, wondering if Quinn’s going to call again. The phone stays silent in your hand, though. He takes it from you, sets it down on the nightstand carefully. Your arm wraps back around his leg, and he tries not to let it make him sigh in relief.
“Sorry about him,” you say, quietly. “He’s like a guard dog. But one of those little yappy ones.”
Nico laughs. “Ankle biter.”
You nod and laugh, too. “Why’d you even answer?”
Nico drags a hand down his face. “He called from Jack’s phone.”
“Sneaky little bitch,” you scoff.
He shrugs. “To be fair, I probably should’ve at least let someone know where you were. If I’d woken up to a message about my sister like the one Quinn probably got…” he scrubs at the hair on his jaw. “Not sure I’d have reacted differently.”
You huff- your warm breath washes over his leg. “You hockey players are a bunch of gossips, you know that?”
He grumbles at that, not even giving it a real response. He slumps down further against the headboard, eyes feeling heavy, head feeling even heavier. You pat your hand against his knee and sigh.
“You should lay down,” you mumble.
He sighs. “Yeah. If you’re feeling okay I can go to the couch. Didn’t want to leave you alone, I was scared you’d throw up.”
You stare up at him. He stares right back. Pretty eyes. God, your brothers would kill him.
“No, like, just- lay down,” you tell him, patting the bed next to you. “It’s your bed.”
His heart does a somersault. His stomach follows suit. He shouldn’t. Jack will punch him, Luke will deliver the final blow, and then Quinn will fly down from Canada to stomp on his grave. But he’s exhausted, and the bed is comfy, and you… you’re there, like he’s always dreamed. He won’t touch you. He’ll just lay down right next to you, barely under the blankets, plenty of space between the two of you in his big bed. It’ll be fine.
…..
You wake up hours later with a raging headache and your head against Nico’s chest. You nearly panic until you remember who he is. Then you worry he’ll think it’s weird, having you pressed against him like this, but you realize his arm is wrapped tightly around your waist. He’s strong. You know that, but it’s different to feel it for yourself, the way the thick muscle presses against your back. His cheeks is resting on top of your head, too, and he’s just barely snoring, soft sounds through his lips.
You’d stay right there forever if your head didn’t hurt so bad.
When you try to wiggle free, he holds on tighter, groaning softly. You try to pry his arm off your waist and he grunts this time. When he finally wakes up enough to be somewhat coherent, he doesn’t let go.
“Whatimesit?” He asks groggily, lips brushing against your forehead.
“Dunno,” you admit. “Head hurts. S’there ibuprofen in your cupboard?”
He groans softly and then peels his arm away. Before you can make a move, he rolls out of bed and stumbles towards the bathroom. You watch him go and try to pretend you don’t shiver at the roll of his back muscles beneath his t-shirt. He comes back with a glass of water and pills in his hands.
You fight a laugh at the sight of him, sleep rumpled and groggy, brows furrowed tightly. You push yourself up to sit up, leaning on your left hand and rubbing your eyes sleepily with your right. He hands over the water and the pills. You take them eagerly.
You blink up at him after you down the whole glass and cock your head. “Did I dream that Quinn called?”
Nico snorts and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Nope. That was real life.”
You roll your eyes. “Overprotective asshole.”
Nico laughs at that, eyes slipping closed. “Like I said. If I were him, I’d have had the same reaction.”
You let yourself fall back down to the bed. “Right, like you’d ever…” you cut yourself off with a laugh. “I mean, he and Jack and Luke are always so worried about teammates being into me or something. It’s ridiculous.”
Nico laughs, but it sounds hollow. You lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling. You’re already planning how you’re going to chew Quinn out for this one.
“I don’t blame him,” Nico says, quieter this time. “Just wish he wouldn’t have called so early.”
You close your eyes. “He’s annoying. Why’s he worried? Like… none of you guys have ever shown any interest in me, so. ”
Your lack of dating hockey players is not for lack of trying. There’d been Quinn’s teammates in college, and Jack’s from the other teams, too. You’ve had crushes that you’ve eventually let fizzle out after getting nothing in return. Nico’s the only crush that’s stuck around this long. Because despite the fact that you can barely even call him your friend, sometimes he pulls shit like this- taking you back to his place and staying up late to take care of you, fielding phone calls from your protective older brother. Nico’s a giant human teddy bear. You think at this point it’s gone beyond a crush.
“Why d’you think that is?” Nico asks, breaking you from your train of thought.
“Why do I think what is?” You reply.
You swear you feel his hand brush against your wrist.
“That none of us ever show any interest?” He says.
He’s quiet. Quieter, at least. More tentative. Softer. You pry one eye open and look up at him, and you swear he’s blushing. Hm.
“Because…you’re not- nobody’s interested?” You say, softer than even him.
He tilts his head. Your mouth feels dry.
“You remember the first Devils game you came to?” He asks. You nod, and he continues. “Before the game, in the locker room, Jack mentioned his sister was going to be there, and, well, you know how hockey players are. Couple people made comments about wanting to meet you, asked if you’d be at the afterparty. Jack made it pretty clear you were off limits. And, you know. Guys do that shit all the time, get overprotective over their sisters, and it’s never been, you know, an issue. Half the time I don’t even meet the guys’ family, you know?”
He trails off and scrubs his hand through his hair. You watch him closely.
“But that night, after the game, I was leaving and I saw… this girl. This beautiful girl. And she was wearing a Hughes jersey, and I was…” he laughs and closes his eyes. “I was coming up with all these stupid pick up lines, about how I was better than him, and I was walking towards her, and I swear I looked away for a second and then Jack was there. Hugging you, and glaring at me over your shoulder. I got the message.”
You reach up and pinch the bridge of your nose. “I hate my brothers.”
Nico laughs. “In Luke’s defense…”
“Don’t defend any of them, Luke’s the worst of them, he’s just quiet about it,” you scoff. “He chased my college boyfriend out of my dorm with a hockey stick.”
Nico laughs. You laugh, too, but you shake your head. He nudges his knee against yours. When his thumb brushes against your wrist this time, you open your eyes. That blush is there, soft and rosy on his cheeks.
“So you get it, then,” he says, head tilted as he blinks down at you. His hair is falling over his forehead messily. “Why I’ve never made a move.”
You’re so busy trying to process all the information of the day that you almost miss it. Why I’ve never made a move. It could’ve been a fleeting moment, just a quick crush when he saw you the first time, but something about this tells you it’s not. He presses his thumb to your pulse point on your wrist, and the warmth of his hand on your skin makes you shiver slightly. You stare up at him and chew on your lower lip.
“I think you should ask me about my limits,” you say, quietly. “They’re a lot different than my brothers’, you know.”
The grin on Nico’s face grows wider. “S’that so?”
You nod eagerly. He lets out a low, slow breath, like he’s bracing for impact. Something in your chest aches. He plants a hand next to your head and leans towards you, and your heart leaps in your throat.
“What’re your limits on kissing hockey players?” He asks. His other hand comes up and cups the side of your face. He brushes his thumb against your Cupid’s bow. “Y’know. If the opportunity were to come up.”
You shrug. “Would depend on the player, I suppose.”
He nods in understanding, pursing his lips. “How about… hm. 6’1”, brown hair, brown eyes. Team captain. Nice guy, I guess. Would definitely make sure you got home safe from the bar.”
You reach up and draw a hesitant line on his jaw with your fingertip. “Team captain, huh? I do like a man in charge.”
He nods. You nod back. For a moment, the two of you sit in limbo.
In the end, you’re the one to wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself up to kiss him. When you do, though, he responds eagerly. He cages you in with both arms, and as you melt for him, he does the same for you. It’s a sweet kiss, one full of hope and excitement. You’re surrounded by him, by his arms and his touch and the smell of him on the sheets. You’ve never been more happy you ran into him at a bar than in that very moment.
…..
You’re back in that same bar from weeks ago, standing under the very same neon light. Except this time, there’s no guy hovering over you, and this time, you and Nico both know the other is going to be there. He’s at the bar, pretending he’s just noticed you, smiling and waving as he orders. You shake your empty cup at him, and he nods.
He wanders over a few minutes later, drinks in hand. He leans against the wall next to you and hands you the cup. The neon light glows bright on his dark hair. You sip your drink and smile up at him. Politely. Friendly. Nothing more. He’s a polite, friendly distance away. There’s space between the two of you.
“If we’re gonna make this believable, you’re going to have to come say hello to the rest of the team,” he says.
You nod. “In a minute.”
Across the bar, one of his teammates is yelling about a game on the screen. For now, you want just a minute with Nico. A moment for just the two of you. One where he’s not your brothers’ team captain, but your boyfriend instead.
The word feels new in your brain, would feel even newer on your lips if you said it. So far, you’ve only tried it out a couple times- when he asked the question, and then after that in the bathroom mirror, a wide grin on your face. You haven’t told anyone else. Nico’s worried about Jack and Luke’s reactions, and the season’s almost done- he wants to wait to tell them afterwards, when the results of a game won’t rest so heavily on how they take the news. It’s been a lot of staying in dates, movie nights at home on his couch, which both of you are partial to anyways. And lots of this, too- seemingly chance meetings at local bars, quick texts from him telling you where he’s headed with his friends and you showing up, purely coincidental to anyone other than him.
Eventually, you follow him through the crowd of people to a secluded corner full of hockey players. You spot your brothers, blissfully unaware, nursing matching beers. Just before everyone catches sight of the two of you, Nico sneaks a hand back and squeezes yours. You smile brightly.
“Look who I found!” Nico calls out.
He moves his grip on your hand to your wrist, raises your arm like you’ve won a fight. You laugh and shake your arm free of his hold. You’re met with cheers from the team, loudest of all from your brothers. You can wait to tell them. For now, the way he smiles at you is more than enough.
…..
“Should we just tell them we know they’re… a thing?” Luke asks.
Jack shakes his head, watching you and Nico. “Nah. Let ‘em sweat. She’ll slip up eventually, or he’ll start to freak out.” He sees Nico reach to grab your hip, then pull back at the last second like he’s been burned. A mix of disgust and amusement passes through him- you’re his sister, after all. “Jesus, dunno why they think they’re fooling anyone.”
Jack’s known since the day he got back and saw you at lunch. You’d been overly happy but basically refused to talk about your impromptu stay at Nico’s. Then, he’d seen Nico at practice, and he’d been much the same. By the time the team had gone out to a bar and you mysteriously happened to show up, he’d had his suspicions and had relayed them to Luke. They’d watched you and Nico leave the bar together one night when you thought nobody was looking.
Luke laughs. “Okay, but, when do we tell Quinn?”
Jack turns to him with wide eyes. “We don’t! D’you want our captain to die?”
Luke directs his gaze back towards you and the aforementioned captain. Jack follows suit and tries not to roll his eyes. The two of you aren’t touching, but the smiles on your faces say it all.
“I mean,” Luke starts quietly. “They’re kind of cute. And we want them to be happy, right?”
“Don’t even start,” Jack says firmly.
He’ll let it go for now, in the interest of finishing out the season on a good note. But after that, all bets are off. Definitely. Probably. Jack’s the one who set the rules, who declared you off limits, and he’ll stick to his word.
No matter how much the two of you together are starting to grow on him.
if you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading! i hope you’ve enjoyed
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hockeyshmockey · 1 month
Text
I’m going to diE
Unwritten | DR3
― Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader (she/her) ― Warnings: mentions of break up and food; typos. ― Summary: Yn and Daniel were together for 4 years, and now they have to learn to be alone after a complicated breakup. The thing is, how does one get over someone they still love? How to forget when your song keeps playing everywhere? Their future? Still unwritten. ― A/n: None of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps, but the work is, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛
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✷ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ✷ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment(don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee
f1gossip
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liked by anon007, dannyricfan, and others
f1gossip Paddock's IT couple apparently broke up. Daniel and Yn deleted their respective pictures from each others profile. With Yn's disappearance from races, this was something that a few fans saw coming. According to sources, it was a mutual, but painful decision.
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anonfan I wonder how's Yn doing 😟
⤷ ynsunshine I'm manifesting so much love and happiness in her life, she deserves it
italianricciardo do we know what happened?
charlesleshow you expect me to still believe in love after this breakup? 🤣😭🤣😭🤣😭🤣
lewcedes bro, daniel must be crushed, he worshipped the ground Yn walked
ricciardoyln you mean to tell me that the couple that sang SOS from mamma mia in a karaoke during their friends wedding simply broke up? 👎👎👎
popyn HOW??? WHY???? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS ❓❓❓❓❓
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────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this piece, I've saved this idea on my drafts a while ago, and only now I had the energy to get it done (and the inspo bc I've been listening to Unwritten non stop - and its been playing everywhere too!).
If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘
▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.
taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @leclercsluv @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts @namgification
©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.
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hockeyshmockey · 1 month
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Giggling kicking my feet she’s so CUTE
hey! i love your pet series, and we've seen a lot so far. from moon to fernando jr there were a lot of absolutely adorable one shots!
and i wanted to request maybe a pet cow (mini or otherwise, i love cows they're just so cute) with danny ric? i mean, we all know that he loves texas, farmlife, etc. so I think that would be really fitting for him!
thank you in advance, even if you decide not to do it:)
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texas_ric
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liked by y/nl/n, and 75 others
texas_ric did you guys know that daniel ricciardo has a cow? that's such a danny ric thing to do
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username1 omg that's so pure of him
username2 obsessed
username3 the cow is so cute holy shit
y/nl/n Danny and i actually have several cows! we went to an auction in Texas and we couldn't stop ourselves
y/nl/n
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liked by danielricciardo, and 201,293 others
y/nl/n the ricciardo gang
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maxverstappen1 petition for you to name the next one after me
charles_leclerc petition for you to get another two and name them max and charles
username4 lestappen omg
danielricciardo our army
y/nl/n i think the most common term for it is family, danny
username5 what are their cows called, does anybody know?
username6 the friesian calf is niki, the brown calf is senna, the big cows are schumacher and prost but i don't know which way round it is
y/nl/n
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liked by landonorris, and 293,012 others
y/nl/n senna is so pretty 🥰🥰
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danielricciardo my favourite son ❤❤
y/nl/n danny! you can't say that!
username7 omg the ricciardo's are so cute
username8 you could rescue instead of being selfish and getting a calf
username9 real fans know that they rescued a pregnant heifer and that's how they got senna
username10 pls bring senna or niki to a grand prix
username11 pls let moon ride senna
landonorris which team does senna support?
y/nl/n definitely not McLaren username12 omg the shade
danielricciardo
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danielricciardo one step closer to becoming a cowboy
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y/nl/n my cowboy
danielricciardo *cow man
username13 what's the next steps for cowboy danny?
y/nl/n need to convince him to get horses
username14 omg baby niki
username15 i hope they get more farm animals
username16 i hope they take at least one of the cows to gps
username17 omg niki in a red bull hat would be so cute
y/nl/n
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liked by danielricciardo, and 249,438
y/nl/n so... we did something
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maxverstappen1 please tell me their names (and that one of them is named after me)
y/nl/n okok we've got charles, yuki, alex, pierre and max
username18 omg they've named them after the rb drivers + charles
danielricciardo what're we getting next?
y/nl/n a baby
username19 SHE DID NOT JUST DROP THAT SHE'S PREGNANT
charles_leclerc charles is the cutest sheep
danielricciardo you don't even know which one charles is
username20 how aren't more people talking about the fact that she's pregnant
username21 congratulations to my grid parents
704 notes · View notes
hockeyshmockey · 1 month
Text
I’m tearing up my god this is so tender
Theories of Relativity
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Summary: you don’t need TikTok theories to prove that your relationship is a dream come to life, but it doesn’t hurt when your boyfriend passes all of them with flying colors
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The Olive Theory
When you love someone, you have to be willing to make sacrifices and compromises for them (even if those sacrifices are something small like pretending to hate olives just so you can give them to your olive-loving partner instead)
You sit across from Charles at the long dinner table, smiling as he animatedly recounts the race from last weekend. His hands wave through the air, punctuating his story as he describes the final lap battle with Max down to the last corner. You’re only half listening though, too distracted by how handsome he looks in his dinner jacket, his tanned skin glowing in the low light of the restaurant.
As Charles pauses to take a sip of wine, you lean in and whisper, “I wasn’t really watching the race, I only had eyes for you.”
Charles chuckles, his nose crinkling adorably. “Oh really? So you missed all the action then?"
You shrug, trailing a finger down his arm. “What can I say, I find you far more interesting than the other cars going around in circles.”
Charles opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a mechanic sitting a little way down from you. “Oi Charles, why do you keep picking all the olives out of your salad?"
You look down, noticing the small pile of olives Charles has stacked onto the edge of his plate.
Charles glances at you, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “Oh, um, I’m not a huge fan of olives.”
The mechanic frowns in confusion. “But I’ve seen you eat olives before. You always get them on your pizza.”
“I, uh ...” Charles stammers, clearly flustered.
Under the table, you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Charles looks at you and you give him a small nod.
“Well, the truth is,” Charles says, turning back to the mechanic. “I actually love olives. But Y/N loves them even more than I do. So I pick them out of my food to give to her.”
You smile softly at Charles, warmed by his thoughtfulness. The mechanic chuckles and shakes his head. “You two are so cute it’s almost gross.”
Charles just grins and pops an olive into your mouth. “Anything for mon amour.”
You crunch the olive happily, then lean in to give Charles a quick kiss on the lips. “People who say chivalry is dead have simply never met you.”
The conversation moves on, flowing from racing to travel and everything in between. Under the table, your fingers stay intertwined with Charles’ the whole time.
After dinner, you all head outside into the cool night air. Charles’ team members head off towards their own cars, calling out goodbyes.
You snuggle into Charles’ side as you walk towards where his Ferrari is parked. “Thank you for the olives,” you say. “But you really don’t have to deprive yourself on my account.”
Charles wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “I want to though. I like making you happy.”
You stop next to the car, turning to face him. Running a hand down his chest you say, “You know what would really make me happy right now?"
“Hmm?" Charles murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.
You grin mischievously. “A stop for gelato on the way home.”
Charles laughs and opens the car door for you. “Anything for you, mon cœur.”
The Bird Test
If you say something that could be deemed insignificant and your partner responds with genuine curiosity, that’s a really good sign that your relationship will last a long time
The Brazilian sun beats down as you wander hand-in-hand with Charles along the edges of the Interlagos circuit. It’s the day before qualifying, and Charles brought you out to the track in São Paulo to share the grid walk with you.
You stroll slowly, enjoying a rare private moment together during the hectic race weekend. Charles points out details along the track — the tricky off-camber Turn 3, the sharp left-right complex at Turns 5 and 6, the long full throttle blast down the back straight.
You love seeing him so in his element here, his passion for racing evident in his voice and gestures.
As you round Turn 12, heading down the home straight, a flash of bright blue in the trees catches your eye. Gasping in excitement, you grab Charles’ arm and point.
“Look, a hyacinth macaw!”
Charles follows your gaze to the large, vividly colored parrot perched in the branches. “Wow, that’s amazing! I’ve never seen one outside of a zoo.”
You bounce on your toes, thrilled at the sighting. “Aren’t they gorgeous? That bright blue is unreal. Macaws are pretty rare around here, I can’t believe we spotted one!”
Charles smiles at your obvious delight, then turns back to observe the macaw with curiosity. “What do they eat?" He asks. “Fruit, like other parrots?"
“Yes exactly!” You reply eagerly. “Mostly palm nuts and acai berries. And they need a huge range of territory, something like 80 square kilometers.”
As you chat more facts about the brilliant bird, Charles listens attentively, asking more questions and commenting on its beauty. His genuine interest and engagement makes your heart flutter happily.
Eventually the macaw takes flight, its bright wings flashing blue against the trees as it disappears into the forest.
“Incredible,” Charles murmurs, watching it go. “What an amazing thing to see.”
He turns back to you, eyes shining. “Thank you for pointing it out, I never would have spotted it myself. I love seeing you so excited teaching me about something you’re passionate about.”
You step closer, looping your arms around his neck. “And I love that you always listen and want to know more, even if it’s not about racing.”
Charles wraps his arms around your waist, smiling tenderly. “Of course, your passions are my passions now too. I want to know everything that sparks that beautiful light in your eyes.”
The Orange Peel Theory
A partner’s willingness to perform small acts of service is indicative of a healthy relationship
Early morning sun filters into the kitchen as you sip your coffee, still wearing the oversized Ferrari shirt you slept in. Charles stands at the counter across from you, freshly showered and humming to himself as he browses his phone.
Setting your mug down, you grab an orange from the fruit bowl and start to peel it. Or at least you try. The tough rind puts up a stubborn fight, your nails scraping uselessly against it.
“Ugh, I hate peeling oranges,” you grumble after a minute. “Whose idea was it to make the peel so impossible?"
Charles glances up with a sympathetic smile. “Here, let me.”
He takes the orange from your hands and deftly digs his thumb into the top, effortlessly tearing the peel away in one long curl.
You watch in admiration as he strips the rest of the orange until it’s completely naked and ready to eat.
“Voila,” Charles presents it with a flourish. “One perfectly peeled orange for mon ange.”
“My hero,” you grin. You go to take it from him but Charles playfully keeps it out of reach.
“Ah ah, allow me,” he says. Holding your gaze, he gently pulls apart one glistening segment and brings it to your lips.
Happiness bubbles up in you at this sweet, unexpected gesture. You let Charles pop the orange slice into your mouth, savoring the bright citrus burst.
“Delicious,” you murmur. Charles smiles and leans in to kiss you softly, his thumb brushing a drop of juice from your lower lip.
One by one he continues to peel the segments and feed them to you, interspersing each with tender kisses that taste of orange and love.
You close your eyes blissfully, letting the sensual ritual relax you. Charles takes his time, not rushing. He knows this is your favorite part of the morning, stealing these private moments together before the busy day sweeps you both up.
When the last segment is gone, Charles kisses you again, deeper this time. You loop your arms around his neck, melting against him.
“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” you whisper when you finally separate.
Charles nuzzles your nose with his. “You may have said it once or twice. But I never get tired of hearing it.”
You lean into him contentedly. As always, his thoughtfulness and care warms you from the inside out.
Peeling an orange is such a small act but the meaning behind it speaks volumes. Charles knows your quirks and preferences, and cherishes these little opportunities to make your day brighter.
The little things that mean everything.
You’re still musing dreamily about this when Charles tips your chin up. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks with a curious smile.
You shake your head, focusing back on him. “Just thinking about us. And how perfectly you peel my oranges.”
Charles laughs. “Well I’m glad to be of service. I know how you hate getting orange string stuck under your nails.”
He kisses your fingertips one by one. “Can’t have anything marring these beautiful hands.”
You scrunch your nose at him. “Oh yes, I need to keep my hands soft and dainty in case a prince comes along to propose.”
Charles squawks in protest and tackles you against the counter, fingers digging into your sides to tickle you mercilessly. You dissolve into helpless giggles, swatting him away.
“No no, stop! I take it back!” You gasp.
Charles relents, holding you close and nuzzling into your hair. “Too late, you’re stuck with me now,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.
You snuggle into him contentedly. No fantasy prince could ever compete with the reality of Charles.
The Invisible String Theory
An invisible string connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance (the string may stretch or tangle but it will never break)
The living room is filled with laughter and happy chatter as you and Charles sit surrounded by both your families. Your wedding is only two days away, and his mother suggested gathering everyone together one night for reminiscing and quality time.
Looking through old photo albums is proving to be hilarious and heartwarming. Baby pictures, school plays, family vacations — memories preserved to embroider the story of your lives before fate brought you together.
Charles smiles wistfully as Lorenzo shows an album from their childhood. “I wish my godfather and father could have met you,” he says softly. “They would have loved you so much.”
You take his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder. His lost loved ones are always close to his heart.
Your mother passes an album to you with a smile. “Oh this one is from our trip to France when you were five! So many cute little Y/N photos.”
You roll your eyes but obligingly open the album, Charles peering over your shoulder. You flip through pictures of your younger self building sandcastles on the beach, wearing a hilariously large sun hat, beaming gappily with missing front teeth.
Charles grins down at you. “Adorable. I can’t wait for our kids to-”
He stops abruptly, staring down at the page. You follow his gaze to a photo of your family in Nice, taken in front of the Le Negresco hotel. And there in the background, almost out of frame — four familiar figures walking down the promenade.
A young Charles holds the hand of a teenage boy you immediately recognize as Jules. On Charles’ other side, his father Hervé carries a toddler Arthur.
Your breath catches sharply. The families fall silent around you. Charles’ fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the image.
“Of course we went to Nice often,” he whispers. “I had no idea ...” His voice trails off, thick with emotion.
Arthur cranes his head to see. “Is that us? With Papa and Jules?" He looks between you and Charles with wide eyes.
“Almost twenty years ago,” Lorenzo marvels. “And your paths were already crossing.”
Pascale wipes at her eyes, grasping Charles’ other hand tightly. “It was meant to be. Some invisible string tying you together even then.”
Charles’ fingers tremble as they trace over the image. For one brief, impossible moment, it feels like you’re all together — you, Charles, Jules, Hervé. Preserved in time, intersecting at the crossroads of past and future.
Though you never met in life, somehow you were all bound in that instant, tied by invisible strings of destiny. Strings that would one day guide you and Charles to each other.
It’s only a photo, yet looking at it you feel Jules and Hervé’s presence like a bittersweet embrace. As if across the years, they’re saying we know you. We love you. We’re so happy for you both.
You stare down at it, this captured moment of impossible synchronicity. A glimpse of the thread that wove itself silently through your lives until the day it finally drew you together.
Charles meets your eyes, his own shimmering with tears. Without words, you know he feels it too. The impossible link stretching back through time. Proof you were always meant to find each other.
He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. “I believe that with all my heart, we’ve always been connected somehow.”
“Soulmates,” you whisper.
You cling to him, overwhelmed with certainty. Through accidents of time and geography, missteps and milestones, your story was always guiding you here.
Meant for each other. Destined, even then.
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hockeyshmockey · 1 month
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a/n: andrei got an all star weekend fic last year, so it’s only right that mat gets one this year! i literally have a million favorite pics from this weekend so i had to use them all i don’t care. i tried to hit a bunch of the main weekend highlights! i’m also aware that some of the timing and stuff is weird in the fic, but we’re just rolling with it and enjoying the vibes. 🧡💙
word count: 7k
tw: innuendo, dirty talk, protected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f recieving), thigh riding, extremely minimal editing
summary: all star weekend in toronto with mat is one to remember
“Who do you think will pick you?” You ask, settled comfortably in the middle of the hotel room’s mattress, wrapped warmly in the plush robe. You have the perfect spot to watch Mat at the bathroom sink while he shaves. He’s in his suit pants, but his chest is bare, giving you the opportunity to watch his back and arm muscles move as he works.
“Dunno,” he replies, slightly muffled. You can see his face in the mirror, lips tucked in and half covered in shaving cream. He lets his hand fall to the counter and turns to face you, a crooked smile on his face made even more lopsided by the shaving cream beard. “If it’s not Mo and Auston though, I’m leaving.”
You roll your eyes, knowing that your boyfriend loves Justin Bieber almost more than he loves you. “I want Nate and Cale to pick you. I want to meet Tate McRae.”
“You can meet Tate McRae even if I’m not on her team,” Mat scoffs, returning to his shaving. “When am I ever going to get a chance to be coached by Justin Bieber? Never, Squeaks! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
“You’re such a dork,” you murmur affectionately, grinning at his back and tucking your face into the collar of the robe. You have to get up and start getting ready soon, but you’re too comfortable to move. Mat’ll go over to the arena earlier for media interviews and the red carpet, but you don’t have to be there, technically at all, but you want to see the draft.
Mat finishes shaving his face and wipes his cheeks off with the hand towel. “You’re not being very supportive of my dreams,” he informs you dramatically, tossing the dirty towel onto the counter and planting his hands on his hips.
You kneel up on the bed and gape at him, amping up the dramatics. “I’m spending my vacation in cold ass Toronto instead of Baha Mar because I’m supportive of your dreams,” you laugh, throwing your arms out to your sides. “Sue me if I want you to have a good celebrity captain.”
“The Biebs would be the best captain,” Mat replies, crossing over to the bed in a handful of steps, reaching out to rest his hands on your hips. His fingers play with the tie of the robe. “He played hockey and he’s a huge fan.”
“Are their colors at least the blue jersey?” You ask. “You look so good in blue.”
Mat lifts an eyebrow. “That would make you support my coaching dreams? The color blue?”
You hum, resting your hands on his shoulders, playing with the chain around his neck. “I’m very superficial,” you inform him, deadpan.
“Yeah,” Mat replies, equally deadpan, “me too.” He breaks a second later, grinning and peppering kisses all over your face, making you squeal. His fingers dig into your sides, tickling you under the robe, and you wriggle on your knees, slumping forward over his chest when you can’t take it anymore. Gasping laughter saws from your chest and you try to catch your breath, but Mat’s making it hard with his hands splayed over your back. They’re warm and slightly rough and you’re both really wearing barely any clothes, it would be so easy to drag him down onto the bed.
He seems to be telepathically picking up on your thoughts because Mat presses a kiss to your bare shoulder where the robe has slipped off and says, “I gotta finish getting ready or I’m going to be late. But when we get back after the draft, my body is yours to use.”
You pull back and grin at him. “However I want?”
“Yeah,” he snorts, “I need to conserve energy to reclaim my title tomorrow, so you have to do all the work.”
“Pillow princess,” you accuse, pouting at him.
“Just for you, babe,” Mat shoots back, cupping your chin in his hand and tilting your head back so he can really kiss you, licking into your mouth and leaving you wet and wanting when he pulls back. “Start thinking about what position you want me in.”
He winks, laughing, and heads back to the bathroom to finish getting his hair in place. You slump back down on the bed and call to his back, “I’m making sure I get two orgasms before you even get one.”
“Fine by me,” Mat calls back, hands working through his hair. “I like the way you scream my name when you’re coming on my cock.”
Your entire body flushes with heat and you press your thighs together. “Damnit,” you mutter, knowing you need to start getting ready and you definitely don’t have time for even a halfway satisfying orgasm. “For that,” you call, starting to roll off the bed so you can do your hair and makeup, “I get three orgasms before you get one.”
“You’re being so mean to your All-Star,” Mat teases, shrugging into his button down and starting to do up the buttons. You plug in your curling iron and roll your eyes at him.
“Should’ve known all the attention would go to your head,” you sigh, pretending to be burdened by him. “I’m your All-Star, Mr. Barzal, and don’t you forget it.”
His answering grin crinkles his entire face and you go to him easily when he reaches out to grab your wrist and tug you into his chest. “That’s why I’m letting you have your orgasms before I get mine,” he says cheekily, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and disappearing to the other side of the room for his shoes.
You huff a little, a small smile playing on your lips, and return to fixing your hair. Mat finishes getting ready, lacing up his dress shoes and pulling on his suit jacket before throwing his arms out to his sides and doing a little half-turn, asking, “so, how do I look?”
“Like my All-Star,” you beam at him, tilting your head up for a kiss. He obliges. “I like this suit a lot,” you continue, reaching for your purse and withdrawing a Sharpie. You hold it up in between your bodies and tuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Just in case.”
Mat pats his hand over the pocket and kisses your forehead. “Thanks, Squeaks. Text me when you get to the arena, okay? I’ll see you after the draft.”
You nod and with one final kiss, Mat’s out the door, leaving you with some peace and quiet to get ready. You do wish that Bo or Noah had been voted in too, so you’d at least have Holly or Alexa to hang out with while you’re watching the events. Mat’s parents and Liana are getting into town tomorrow afternoon, with enough time to join you for the Skills Competition, but until then, you’re on your own.
Luckily, you run into Steph Marner outside of the arena, saving you from the awkward first day of a new school feeling where you’ll either have to sit alone or find someone you know in the arena. You know Steph a little bit from different events and you’re friendly enough, it’s not the same as having one of your girls with you, but she’s a familiar face.
“Hey, girl!” Steph greets you with a hug that you return. “Welcome to the six!”
“I really wish you were welcoming me to the Bahamas,” you laugh, falling into step next to her. The crowds are wild and you look around as you walk in, having never been to an All-Star game before this is so much fun.
She lets loose a laugh, “you and me both! It would’ve been nice to get out of the city for a bit, but what can you do?” She shrugs and you fall into small talk for a little bit, catching up on what’s been happening since you last saw each other.
By the time the draft starts, you’re pleasantly tipsy and getting into the fun. The guys are all sitting on little benches on the ice and it’s adorable watching them swing their legs like toddlers. You snap a few photos of Mat from your spot in the stands, knowing the professional photos you’ll get from the team’s social media team later will be better. The draft starts and you wait impatiently for Mat to be picked.
By the time the fourth round ends and he hasn’t been picked, you’re starting to get cranky on his behalf. And slightly anxious that he’ll be picked last, even though you know logically that won’t happen. On the ice, he keeps swinging his legs, fidgeting in place until finally Mo and Auston pick him to join Team Bieber, along with half the Maple Leafs - Mitch Marner and William Nylander included.
Steph slaps your hand in a high-five, “woohoo! Teammates!”
You laugh and cheer along with her, snapping a picture of Mat getting a hug from Justin Bieber. You immediately send it off to your group chat, adding the message: pretty sure he’s going to leave me for the biebs 😭
The girls flood the chat, but you’re too busy laughing with Steph about Mat and Mitch’s chatter on the Team Bieber bench.
“Oh my god,” you laugh. “Mat’s such a yapper. He must be talking Mitch’s ear off.”
“Please,” Steph waves her hand in the air. “Mitch can’t shut up either. They probably aren’t even listening to each other.”
As the draft continues, you tune out a little since Mat’s been picked. Eventually, you tune back in and your gaze lands on your boyfriend manspreading to an extreme degree. Muffling a laugh with your hand, you shoot him a text, knowing he won’t see it until later: spread your legs a little wider, babe, i want to feel the stretch when i straddle you 👀
The draft comes to an end and it’s a little bit of a whirlwind after that, chatting with people you haven’t seen in a bit and wandering the arena until you find Mat. Or he finds you, actually.
“Team Bieber!” He crows, barely hiding his excitement now that it’s just you in front of him.
You grin at him, squeaked laughter pushed from your lungs when he crushes you to his chest in a hug. “Happy for you, Mat!”
“Babe,” he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear, “this is gonna be so fucking fun. He hugged me!”
“You are the biggest fangirl I’ve ever seen,” you tease, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. “It’s adorable.”
“I know you’re making fun of me right now,” he says, “but I don’t even care. We’ve got a Bieber concert to get to.”
You shake your head and let yourself be dragged along to the concert, knowing that Mat’s going to have the time of his life listening to one of his favorite artists perform live and that you’re going to get so many videos of him singing along that will immediately be sent to Beau for blackmail material.
The concert is actually beyond fun, and by the time you get back to the hotel, Mat’s completely forgotten about his earlier determination to be a pillow princess and has you out of your sweater and jeans before you really process what’s happening. His mouth and fingers work you up to two hard and fast orgasms, leaving you sweaty and breathless in the middle of the bed.
“Fuck,” you mutter, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing them, bending your knees to draw his cock closer to your cunt. You clit throbs and the condom-wrapped head of Mat’s cock bumps against it, making you see stars.
“One more each, okay?” Mat mutters, pushing into you slowly. You whine and clench around him, scraping your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting, but doesn’t stop until he’s seated fully inside your pussy, breathing hard. Sweat rolls down his temples, dampening his hair.
You barely last a few minutes, overly sensitive from the last two orgasms, and you come before Mat, stroking your hands over every inch of him you can reach while he pumps his hips into yours. He grunts into your neck when he comes, filling the condom and nearly crushing you with the heavy weight of his body on top of yours. The air is pushed from your lungs, Mat’s sweaty chest pressed against yours.
“Fuck,” he mumbles into your hair, “that felt good. You feel good. Could stay here forever.”
You kiss his shoulder. “I’d make some kind of innuendo about being an all star, but I think my brain is melted,” you say honestly, still wrapped around Mat like an octopus and making no effort to move.
——-
Mat’s Friday is quiet, other than an early afternoon practice for the Saturday game and the Skills Competition at night, so you have a lazy morning with him in bed. Neither of you bothered with clothes the night before, so it’s easy to get your hands on him and harder to get his hands off of you. You slip under the covers and wake him up with your mouth on his cock, sucking him off until he comes in your mouth. After he returns the favror with a slow, lingering orgasm, you shower and decide to head off to explore downtown Toronto for a bit before Mat goes to practice and you head off to the airport in the rental car to pick up Mat’s parents and sister.
“Thank god you’re here,” you give Liana a huge hug after helping everyone load their bags into the trunk. “It’s so hard being the only one around to chirp Mat to his face.”
“Please tell me you have video of the Bieber of it all,” she grins at you, a little evilly. You nod and she she pumps her fist. Nadia shakes her head.
“Don’t be mean to your brother this weekend,” she turns around in the passenger seat to face you both. Michael had insisted on driving back into the city and you weren’t about to argue - Toronto traffic rivaled New York traffic.
Liana rolls her eyes. “Mom, he needs some humbling,” she replies. “It’s good for his character
growth.”
You hide a giggle behind your hand. The Barzal sibling dynamic is one of your favorite things to witness. “I promise, Nadia,” you say, leaning forward a bit, “Mat gets so much praise. He does need a little humbling every once in a while.”
Once you’re back in the city, you drop the car and everyone’s bags off at the hotel and head over to meet Mat at the arena. He’s waiting for you all in the main lobby, looking fresh and clean and beyond adorable in his new All-Stars beanie. His smile is huge and only grows when he gives his parents hugs hello. He rubs the top of Liana’s head in a noogie that has her punching his arm, while they both laugh.
“Hi,” you smile up at him. You missed him even though it’s been less than two hours since you saw him.
“Hi,” Mat kisses you quickly before tugging the beanie off his head and unceremoniously dropping it on yours, tugging the cuff of it low over your forehead and smushing your hair. You wrinkle your nose at him and he raises an eyebrow. “It’s cold and you look cute in it.”
You lift your phone, the screen lighting up to display a handful of social media notifications and texts, “not as cute as you, according to the Twitter girlies. Apparently, you’re giving babygirl.” Your grin is shit-eating and Liana openly cracks up next to you, even as Michael and Nadia frown at each other, completely confused by the social media phrases.
Mat’s ears go pink and he nudges his hip against yours. “Shut up, let’s just go for lunch and not talk about that,” he rests his hand against your lower back and slings the other arm over Liana’s shoulder, guiding the both of you out of the arena.
“Oh no,” his sister says in a sugary-sweet tone, “we’re definitely talking about it. I have a few of my favorites bookmarked to mention…” She trails off, starting to scroll through her phone.
“Mom!” Mat whips his head around to look at Nadia. She plucks the phone from Liana’s hands and stashes it in her purse.
Michael, in order to cut off Liana’s complaint, jumps in, “Mat, tell us about Patrick Roy. How’s the change going?”
Luckily, the new coach is a topic Mat could happily chatter on about for hours, so he takes the bait and you end up having a fairly peaceful lunch before heading back to the hotel for a little relaxation before the Skills Competition. Liana comes to hang out with you and Mat, while Michael and Nadia get in a quick nap after their long flight. You put a movie on, but really the three of you end up gossiping and catching up, before Mat finally kicks you both out so he can get in a short nap too.
“Love you,” he kisses you before essentially pushing you out the door.
“Yeah, I really feel the love,” you roll your eyes, quickly pulling your coat back before Mat can close the door on it.
Liana smiles at you wryly. “I don’t know how you put up with him, but thank god for you. Let’s go get a coffee,” she says, linking arms with you as you stroll down to the elevators. You have the toque back on your head, adjusted so it’s not smashing your hair flat, and you can’t help but smile when you think about Mat putting it on your head in the first place.
“He’s surprisingly easy to love,” you laugh. “When he’s not being a drama queen.”
“Ugh,” Liana rolls her eyes affectionately, “you guys are disgusting.”
“Be nice or I’m going to decide to renovate the guest room during the week in April you’re coming to visit,” you joke.
——-
The arena is even louder and more chaotic during the Skills Competition and you’re having fun with Liana, taking pictures and getting snacks while you wait for everything to start.
“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, scrolling through Instagram before the events start. The reel the team’s socials have posted of Mat picking out his skate blades has your panties immediately damp and you’re ready to demand it get taken down for your own sanity. You shift in your seat, damp fabric scraping against your wet cunt.
Liana looks over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at. “Oh gross,” she fakes a gagging noise. “He needs to put those away.”
“Or save them just for me,” you mumble, for her ears only. As much as you love Nadia and Michael, they don’t need to hear how horny you are for their son. Liana bumps your shoulder and your fingers slip over the screen.
“I’m gonna go blind, put that thirst trap away,” she frowns. “They’re going to start now.”
She’s right and Mat is the first one introduced on the ice. The four of you jump to your feet and scream for him, your heart pounding with excitement. Mat looks so stupidly happy to be on the ice, you can’t help but let out an extra loud wolf-whistle for him.
The Fastest Skater competition is up first and you won’t admit it, but you’re a little nervous for Mat to hold onto his title. You clench your hands together while William Nylander, Quinn Hughes, and Cale Makar go, crossing your fingers when their times are all over 14 seconds.
Mat’s fourth and you scream when he’s under 14 seconds, holding first until, of course, Connor McDavid unseats him. It’s annoying and a little frustrating, but you’re still beyond proud of Mat for being so close.
“Fuck that!” Liana grumbles, echoing your thoughts.
“He’s fastest skater in my heart,” you whisper back, purposely not telling her your plan to giving him a blow job at the end of the night.
One Timers is next. Honestly, you have no idea what the rules on this one are, but you just enjoy the show. Especially since Mat’s not that great in this competition in the end. You can see the scowl on his face and even Nadia laughs a little.
“He’s so hard on himself, even for fun events,” she shakes her head.
You can see him shake his head after his turn at the Passing Challenge, but honestly you’re really just focused on down damn good he looks with the backwards cap on his head. Watching Mat show off his skills is always your favorite thing. Mat takes third in this challenge and then talks to Kevin Weekes on ice and you record him while he talks, loving that crooked smile of his.
“I can’t believe he’s tied for first,” Liana shakes her head, filling in Michael and Nadia as they come back to the seats with drinks. “Think he’ll drop a couple thousand my way?”
“I’ll make sure of it,” you nudge her side. “Right after he funds my tropical vacation.”
During the musical break, you both get up to use the bathroom and stretch your legs. Your phone is vibrating with texts from the team and the girls, chirping Mat and making sure you know to pass on the messages.
Mat’s final event is Stick Handling and you keep your fingers crossed throughout the break - he’s in third overall and honestly you think he could pull off a win. Either way, you know you’re going to celebrate with him later.
“That’s my man!” You shout when Mat’s announced for second place. “Silkiest mits in the league!”
Liana and Nadia jump up to celebrate with you - Mat’s tied for first over all with one competition left.
He makes it to the next round and the three of you cheer, laughing and more than a little tipsy off of arena beers and cocktails. It’s so much more fun to cheer him on and celebrate Mat with his family.
“I always forget how good he is,” Nadia comments. “I know he’s good, but he’s having fun out there too.”
“No, he was literally off the wall excited to come back,” you tell her. “Being selected and then getting to replace Jack Hughes in the skills comp, on top of the new coach, Mat’s been in such a good mood lately.”
“He’s also whipped,” Liana teases you. You stick your tongue out at her.
“He just knows when he has to listen and turn off his hockey brain,” you shrug, talking over the music.
“Oh, Mat sucks at the shootout,” you groan, seeing what the One on One competition entails. “I just need him to not be last on this one.”
Mat picks Igor Shesterkin as his goalie and you watch him collect six points and sit in a tie for third. The New York rivalry runs strong and you can’t wait for the Stadium Series game in two weeks. You’re kind of treating the cold in Toronto as a preview of sitting out in the cold in New Jersey.
And with that, Mat’s onto the final round.
“One step closer to that cool million,” Liana grins. “You know how big of an engagement ring you could get with that…”
You choke on your sip of water and Michael claps you on the back while Nadia frowns at Liana. “No way I need or want something that big,” you manage to squeak out. “Not to be, like, basic, but I’d take a page out of Taylor Swift’s book and marry him with a paper ring.”
Your entire face feels like it’s burning red, talking about marrying Mat in front of his parents. You do, obviously, want to marry him, but it feels strange to say so in front of his parents when you’ve only met them a handful of times.
Liana’s shit-eating grin is identical to Mat’s. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says and when you try to say anything, she shushes you and points to the ice, where the obstacle course is starting.
“Oh, he’s locked in,” Liana says and you’re all leaning forward in your seats as Mat goes through the obstacles.
“Oh god,” you groan, covering your eyes with your hands as Mat struggles with the little nets. Liana and Nadia wince at your sides. It’s like a train wreck, you can’t look away from his struggle. When they have to bring out more pucks for him, your heart sinks into your stomach.
Mat’s time in the end is awful, and you can see his disappointment on his face when he looks up at the jumbotron. He would’ve beaten McDavid if the nets hadn’t tripped him up.
“Ah, he did his best,” Michael says and you nod. It sucks that Mat didn’t place higher, but you’re so proud of him. Considering he wasn’t even chosen to be in the Skills Competition in the first place, the fact that he made it to the final round and nearly won is an incredible effort.
Mat texts you all in a group chat that you’d honestly forgotten existed, letting you know that he still has to shower and do some media availability, so he’ll meet you all back at the hotel.
Michael and Nadia decide to head to bed and you promise to let Mat know - you’ll all get together for breakfast before Mat goes to his morning skate before the game at 3. You and Liana hang out in the hotel bar until Mat joins you a little more than an hour later, spotting you immediately and wedging himself in the few inches of space left in the arm chair you’re sitting in. He squishes you to the side with his thighs, spreading them without concern. His arms wrap around your shoulders and he kisses the side of your head. “Hey, Squeaks,” he greets you, adjusting so one of your legs is draped over his and you’re as close as you could possibly be.
“Jesus,” Liana mutters. “Get a room.”
Mat squints at her, “I would love to.”
You nudge his side and murmur, “behave,” at him. All that does is encourage Mat to get in your face and kiss you hungrily. A surprised giggle is swallowed by Mat’s mouth and Liana’s disgusted scoff makes Mat smile against your lips.
“I’m going to bed,” she pushes up from her chair. “See you two in the morning. And wear a condom, I’m not ready to be an aunt.”
You and Mat choke simultaneously, Liana’s laughter echoing as she dances away. You drop your forehead to Mat’s shoulder and he shakes his head, “she really knows how to kill the mood.”
When you shift your leg though, you can feel the bulge of Mat’s cock against your thigh. “I don’t think she killed the mood that much,” you tease, curling closer to him. “Should we go upstairs and I can reward you for being the all-star of my heart?”
“Cheesy,” Mat accuses even as he’s pulling you to your feet and guiding you to the elevator bank. “I’m exhausted though, I didn’t realize how much work the obstacle course would be.”
“I’ll do all the work, don’t you worry,” you grin at him.
Less than ten minutes later you have him on his back, cunt clenching around his cock.
“Fuck, fuck,” Mat groans, fingers digging into your hips. “Baby, god, fuck feels so good.”
You lean forward, bouncing over Mat’s cock, nails digging into his chest. “Wanted to do this all day,” you gasp. “All the posts, your fucking thighs, Mat! Been soaked for you.”
He laughs underneath you, sliding one hand to play with your clit. You whine and feel your arousal leak from your body, smearing all over Mat’s pelvis. “Thought about riding my thighs, baby?” He asks, gripping your hip even tighter and helping you bounce on him.
“Every fucking day,” you admit, choking on air when Mat bucks his hips up into yours, the head of his cock smacking against your g-spot. “All-Star Mat is my favorite Mat.”
His face is red from exertion, beads of sweat rolling down his temples, but even still you can tell that your praise is getting to him, flushing his chest pink and making his rhythm over your clit stutter. You grin wickedly down at him, knowing exactly how you want to play him.
“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur sincerely, grinding down on him. “Came in and killed it, made it look easy,” you hiccup on a particularly aggressive bounce, “so fucking handsome. My all-star. Mine, mine, mine.”
“Fuuuuck” Mat drags out the curse, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress so he can fuck up into you roughly. “Jesus. Wanted to win ‘cause you were there.”
You whimper every time Mat’s cock hits your g-spot, nearly there, and praise him again, “always a winner. Always my winner. Love you so much.”
Mat’s cock thickens inside of you while you clench around him and you plant your hands on his stomach for leverage and to feel his muscles bunch up in the lead up to his orgasm. He groans and squeezes a handful of your ass, bucking up into you harshly. “Gonna - sorry, baby. Need to come,” he groans your name, filling the condom with a deep growl. You keep riding him through it, replacing his hand on your clit with yours so he can grip your hips and bounce you while he finishes.
“C’mon, fill me up,” you whine, chanting his name, rolling your fingers over your clit until you finish a few seconds after him, gushing around the base of his cock and his lower stomach. You slump over his chest and Mat grunts underneath you, smoothing his hands over your ass.
“God, that was fucking amazing,” he mutters into your hair, kissing your cheek. “Gotta be the all-star more often.”
You laugh and wiggle your ass over him, cunt clenching lazily around him. “I dunno, I was supposed to take care of you, but you took over there for a bit,” you mumble against his skin.
“Couldn’t help it,” he shrugs, “looked so fucking good with your tits bouncing, that gorgeous face you make when I hit as deep as possible.” He yawns a little, swallowing the last few words of his sentence.
“Shut up,” you laugh lightly, swatting at his chest while you roll off of him, sticky and sore. Mat moves to get up, but you push him back a little and wrap a hand around his hip. “I’ve got it.” You make quick work of the condom, tying a knot at the top and padding into the bathroom to get rid of it. You rinse off quickly and bring Mat back a damp washcloth to clean off his stomach, but by the time you get back into the bedroom, he’s got one arm tucked behind his head and he’s fast asleep, letting out gentle grumbling snores.
You laugh a little to yourself, shaking your head. Men.
Still, you wipe him off carefully - not that it matters, he doesn’t move at all - and climb into bed with him, after stealing a clean t-shirt from his suitcase.
Mat chokes a little on his snore and rolls over, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you close to his chest. His arm is a strong lock over your stomach and you shift, getting comfortable before falling asleep with the warm weight of Mat’s body at your back.
You wake up a little bit later, with one of Mat’s thighs wedged in between your legs, corded muscle pressed up against your cunt, making it throb. You grind experimentally over his leg and he grunts against your hair, warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and making you shiver.
“Mat?” You whisper his name quietly and his arm tightens around your waist. You trace your fingertips over the veins on his hand.
His thigh flexes against you and you gasp, warmth pooling between your legs.
“Told you to use me,” Mat mumbles sleepily, kissing behind your ear. “Go ‘head.”
His hand is splayed flat over your stomach and he pushes gently, spurring you into movement. Your hips rock lazily over his thigh, the sleepy rhythm making it hard for you to hold onto the coil of pleasure. Mat rocks his half-hard cock into your backside and you sigh softly, heat building in your blood.
“Feels good,” he sighs, helping you move over him, eyes still shut. He hikes his thigh up higher, catching your clit on his leg hair and sensing a wave of pleasure through your body.
You whine his name, burying your fingers between your legs to help coax yourself to an orgasm. “Wanna feel you,” you whisper and Mat’s hand slips between your bodies, leaving your stomach cold, so he can roughly jerk his cock a few times, tugging until he’s harder.
He pulls you back by the hip, until his cock is nestled between your thighs and you angle back against him, slipping the head of him inside your entrance. A breathy sigh escapes your lungs and Mat rocks his hips so his cock thrusts in and out of your shallowly. Between his cock and your fingers, you’re falling over the cliff of pleasure within seconds, slick covering your thighs.
“Roll over,” you rasp, legs still trembling. You’re not about to go searching in the dark for a condom, so you settle yourself in between Mat’s powerful thighs and take him into your mouth, tasting yourself on him. Both of his hands land on your head, tangling in your hair and holding you in place while you lick at him, kissing the head of his cock and hollowing your cheeks around him until he’s coming in your mouth.
Mat groans, hips bucking up into your mouth, eyes screwed shut. “Babe, christ, love that fucking mouth,” he says hoarsely, hauling you up his body when you’re done so he can kiss you sleepily.
You’re exhausted and close your eyes again, lying over Mat’s chest, his arms wrapped around your back. “You make me so stupid,” you mumble against his collarbone, asleep before you know it.
——-
Saturday is the big game day and after your middle of the night sexcapades, you and Mat oversleep so he just barely has time for breakfast with everyone before he’s off to the arena for a little morning skate and a brief stint on NHL News.
You and the Barzals decide to take in a little bit of the Fan Fest before exploring downtown Toronto before the game starts. It’s fun to spend so much time with Mat’s family and you’re looking forward for them to coming to Long Island for Easter.
The games themselves are beyond fun to watch, since the guys are all taking it seriously while still having a good time.
When Mat and Team Bieber make it to the finals, you and Liana are beside yourselves, screaming with excitement.
“Mat willed them to a win so he can spend more time with Justin,” Liana laughs and you agree.
“Honestly, I’m not convinced he wouldn’t dump me for Justin,” you snort, snapping a picture of Mat on the ice.
Team Bieber/Matthews wins the whole thing and you know it’s just a silly fun weekend, but you can’t help be so incredibly proud of Mat and his performance all weekend. He’s been so light and happy all weekend and you know it was the break he needed to reset for the second half of the season.
After he finishes with post-game media availabilities - where he apparently mentions his future kids, much to Liana and Nadia’s delight and your slight panic, one day but definitely not any time soon - he comes and meets you all for dinner. Mat’s still buzzing from adrenaline and won’t shut up about Justin Bieber as a coach.
“He was just so invested,” he says. “Really wanted to win and knew what he was talking about.”
“Who’s a better coach,” you cut in slyly, “Justin Bieber or Patrick?”
He pins you with a wry look, as his parents laugh. “Squeaks, that’s just not fair.”
“It’s also not even a competition,” Michael points out. “I would think Patrick Roy has nothing on Justin Bieber’s enthusiasm.”
You recognize your boyfriend’s father’s sarcastic joke and giggle. Everyone knows about Patrick’s enthusiastic coaching style.
“I actually can’t wait to get back to it,” Mat says, swiping a bite of your steak off your plate. “I feel really good about the back half.”
Dinner continues comfortably for another few hours, Mat soaking up time with his family while he doesn’t have to worry about practice or a game tomorrow. Eventually, you all head back to your rooms - the Barzals are flying back to Vancouver tomorrow afternoon, while you and Mat get to enjoy the day together before the team flies in before the game.
“Oh, hey, check this out,” Mat’s nearly bouncing when you get back to your hotel room, directing your attention to a huge gift bag sitting on the bed.
You raise an eyebrow, “all star game swag?”
“Even better,” Mat’s eyes are wide. “Justin gave us all some stuff from his line.”
Muffling a giggle with your hand, you poke at the gift bag. “Justin? Your new best friend?” You ask, dryly, spotting a grey hoodie at the top of the pile.
Mat nudges you with his knuckles. “Just for that, I’m not sharing my new gear,” he informs you, pulling each item out of the bag. He’s like a kid on Christmas, giddy with each piece of merch and relaying more stories about Justin behind the bench, like you haven’t heard them all already.
You indulge him, getting ready for bed as he talks, giving him a soft, affectionate smile when he finally pauses his yapping. “You are such a dork,” you murmur, squishing his cheeks between your palms and planting a quick kiss on her pursed lips. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”
——
Sunday is quiet, festivities over. Mat immediately pulls on his new Drew hoodie and you snag the sweats, going for comfort over fashion for your day.
“Steal that sweatshirt and send it to me,” Liana says, hugging you goodbye.
“Over my dead body,” Mat shakes his head at her. “Buy your own.”
You sling an arm around Mat’s waist and lean into him. “Oh, calm down. No one’s stealing the gifts your boyfriend gave you,” you wrinkle your nose at him in a crinkly-eyed smile.
He snaps at the waist band of your pilfered sweats and gives you a stink eye. You laugh, “I live with you! They’re going back to our shared dresser.”
“In my drawer,” Mat says and you nod, indulging him. You both know that you’re keeping the sweats.
Once Mat’s parents and Liana are off to the airport, the rest of the day is chill. You’re soaking up the time with Mat before he goes back into the grind for the back half of the season.
“Hey,” you say at dinner later, nudging his foot with yours under the table.
Mat looks up from the menu, hair a little messy, eyes still bright from the excitement of the weekend.
“I just…I’m really proud of you,” you manage to say around the little ball of emotion in your throat. You reach across the table and lace your fingers with his and Mat squeezes them gently. “This has been the best weekend and I hope you get to bring this excitement to the back half of the season.”
His grins at you, that crooked smile of his that you love so much, and says, “having you here was the second best part of the weekend.”
“Let me guess,” you deadpan, “becoming besties with Justin was the best part?”
He nods, eyes twinkling, “yep.”
“I hate you,” you snort a laugh, smiling despite yourself.
“It’s a really close second though,” Mat assures you.
With a faint sigh, you shake your head, “I see where I stand. Maybe I’ll just have to cheer for the Leafs tomorrow.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Mat rushes to say and you kick his shin lightly.
“Of course not,” you scoff. “What kind of Long Islander would I be, rooting for the enemy?”
Mat pinches your palm, “a terrible one and an awful girlfriend too.”
You hum and say nonchalantly, “you’d think two blowjobs in a weekend, plus riding you, would cement me as best girlfriend ever.”
“Make it three and I’ll marry you right now,” Mat jokes, surprising a laugh out of your chest. Your heart skips a beat in your chest at the mention of marrying Mat, even as a little joke. You want to be his forever.
“You know,” you say, voice shaking just slightly, “marriage is all about give and take.”
Mat bumps his knee against yours, grinning wickedly. “Baby, if you wanted an orgasm, all you had to do was ask,” he says, voice low so he won’t be heard in the restaurant.
Your entire body heats with lust and you brush your fingers over your lips, hiding the involuntary little smile Mat’s words elicit. “Oh,” your voice is breathless, “well, if that’s all it takes.”
“You going to ask for what you want?” Mat asks, running his thumb over the backs of your knuckles.
Leaning forward, you hum, catching the faint hint of Mat’s cologne and the hotel shampoo. You wet your lower lip and watch as Mat’s gaze tracks the tiny movement of your tongue. Quietly, you murmur just for Mat’s ears, “I want some all-star orgasms before I become a hockey widow again.”
Mat chuckles and leans forward too so he can give you a quick kiss. “I think I can make that happen,” he replies easily, leaning back in his seat. You can see from the way his body shifts that he’s spreading his legs again. You shift in your seat, feeling hot. He smirks a little at you, clearly seeing the way your body reacts to him.
Fuck, it may be a three blowjob weekend after all.
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hockeyshmockey · 1 month
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Now THIS is fun
The Masterminds Masterlist (Jeremy Swayman au)
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Series warnings: angst, miscommunication, cheating rumors, mentions alcoholism, mentions toxic households, pregnancy, smut, alcohol consumption,
Check out the lyla x jeremy tag for more!
Series Masterlist:
First Weeks:
The Touch Of A Hand Lit The Fuse
Started With A Spark, Now We’re On Fire
This Feeling Is Deeply Profound
2-5 Months
6-11 Months
1 Year
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hockeyshmockey · 2 months
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Now pls tell me there’s a part two coming??
almost lover
trevor zegras x hughes sister!reader
warnings: angst, heartbreak, reader has a breakdown, flashbacks to high school, crying, more crying and angst, unrequited love (or so they think), shitty best friend
any italicized portions indicates a flashback
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Trevor would have never expected to find himself in this position in life. He’s not even twenty-three years old but he’s sealing envelopes with wedding invitations. They are being sealed with gold stickers, a choice by his bride-to-be, who picked out everything for the event, who begged him to let her have this wedding so fast after getting engaged. The end of the summer in upstate New York would be where Trevor would say his vows and be married. 
“We included (Y/N) on the invites, right?” His fiancé, Annalise, asked. Trevor is snapped out of his daydream when he hears her name. “What?” he asked. “(Y/N)? Like (Y/N) Hughes?” Annalise confirmed. “I think it says the whole Hughes family,” Trevor’s throat suddenly feels dry. “Oh good, I feel bad that we don’t really talk or see her anymore. But she deserves the invite, she’s the reason we’re together.” 
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I never told you? She was in love with you in high school but so was I. She said that she was okay with me asking you to prom.” Trevor Zegras was letting his memory fall back to years ago. It felt like so long ago, senior year of high school, even though it was a couple of years ago. 
Sifting through the mail at your parents house was a weekly task. Every Friday after you left work, you’d stop by your apartment, change and then head to your parents. It was mid-January and it was cold in Michigan. After high school, you started at Michigan for school, you could have been a commuter but you needed a change. Heartbroken and hurt, two of your brothers leaving for the NHL, you moved into the dorms and deleted all traces of yourself on social media. No one knew why except six people. 
You were in the middle of taking off your coat as you dropped the mail on the table by the front door, calling out for your parents who were in the living room. The dark blue envelope caught your eye.
It was addressed to the Hughes Family and sealed with a gold sticker. Not paying attention to the address it came from, you turned the envelope over and opened it. Your feet moved faster than your mind as you stared at the card. Engagement photos, taken on some beach, a date, upstate New York, a vineyard. “Honey what is it?” Ellen Hughes asked seeing her daughter with shaking hands. “A wedding invitation.” 
-
High school was shoved out of your memory for a reason. Despite being a year older than you, Jack and you ended up in the same grade after you got ahead and skipped a year. Sitting in the car as Jack drove you, Luke, and Alex Turcotte to school every morning. It was like clockwork, getting to school early enough to get what you needed from your locker, greet friends, and walk to class. Luke was younger and had to go find his own friends every morning, running off with Dylan Duke as soon as you arrived at campus. 
Your best friend, Annalise, met you at the door of the school every morning. It was March of your senior year. Spring break was in a week, you had already been accepted into the University of Michigan, Jack had declared himself for the draft, as did most of his friends. It was ending quickly and you couldn’t stop it. Signs for Prom hung around the school. 
“Good morning,” Trevor’s voice made you jump. “Dude, don’t scare her,” Jack shoved his best friend. “Just saying good morning to her!” Trevor defended before smiling at you. You were in the middle of taking out your textbook from your locker. Annalise had gone silent when Trevor walked up. She was well aware of the crush you were haboring on Trevor. Ever since you moved there and met Trevor, you had been in love. 
“Morning Trevor,” you said. “Going to prom?” he questioned. “What?” your eyes almost popped out of your head, “Oh.. I think so, my mom is taking Annalise and I dress shopping this weekend.” Trevor seemed satisfied with the answer before you decided it was time to head off to class. Annalise lingered for a second, just long enough to see Jack hit Trevor, “I thought you were going to ask her!” Jack whispered. 
The day dragged on until lunchtime. You could have sat with Jack and his friends but Annalise and you settled on sitting somewhere else. “Can I tell you something and you have to promise not to get mad?” Annalise asked. “What?” you looked at her confused. “I asked Trevor to prom and he said yes.” 
-
You almost screamed at Jack when the call connected. “You didn’t tell me?!” 
He knew immediately what the call was about. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” You scoffed. The last time you saw Trevor was Jack’s draft weekend. Right before you disappeared off the face of the earth. You had dated guys since then, you had convinced yourself you were over him. But why did it hurt so bad? Why did you care so much? “He’s getting married to her.” 
-
“(Y/N) please tell me you’re not mad,” Annalise begged. “I really like him and I know you do too but we were partners on the project together and I think this could be the one for me.” Your eyes were ringing. “I’m excited and happy with him, don’t you care about that?” 
You composed yourself mentally. “You can have him if it makes you happy.” Annalise sighed out of relief. “Oh thank god. I was so nervous you’d be mad. Especially since we are going dress shopping together.” You drowned out her voice for a while as she talked about Trevor. “I have to go do test corrections for math,” you blurted and cut her off. You were leaving the cafeteria seconds later. 
-
You felt sick as you sat between Luke and Quinn on the plane. The moments of your breakdown played over and over in your head. When you were seventeen, high school things mattered a lot more than they did now. So why were you so stuck on this? 
“You okay?” Quinn asked. Jack had left for the wedding early, since he was part of the wedding party as a groomsman. “Yeah,” you bit your tongue and swallowed all the emotions you were feeling at the moment. 
When you got to upstate New York, you felt suffocated. More and more memories dragging their way up into your brain. The moment Alex saw you enter the hotel lobby, where everyone was gathering before leaving for drinks down the street, he saw the same seventeen year old that broke down years ago and all you could see on his face was pity. 
The days seemed to last for eternity. You arrived on Tuesday, the wedding was Friday. It was currently Thursday. Annalise didn’t even come to see you or text you. Granted, you didn’t try to keep contact after high school. Your three brothers were sharing a hotel room and your parents had their own, you had asked if it was okay if you had your own room as well. “Sweetheart,” your mom called, she had the extra key to your room. You had been sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the wall. She sat next to you. “I know that this is hard and I just want you to know how proud I am that you’re keeping your head up.” 
Later that day, Jack left for the dress rehearsal. He arrived back early, hair a mess and cheeks red from yelling. “(Y/N)? You awake?” he pounded on your hotel door. 
-
Jack drove you home at the end of the school day. You were quiet as the car rolled up to the house. Your brothers climbed out and Alex turned to look at you, confused. “Jack can I have the keys? I just want to go for a drive.” Jack tossed you the car keys and everyone else went inside. 
Quinn was home briefly that night, his season at Michigan ended just a couple of days ago and he was working on signing to go to the Canucks. “Where’s your sister?” Jim asked Jack once it was time for dinner. Jack shrugged, “Said she wanted to go on a drive.” As if on cue, the front door opened and slammed shut. Keys were dropped into the bowl by the door. 
“(Y/N)? You good honey?” your dad called out. Ellen leapt out of her chair at the dining table when you entered, tears streaming down your face. “What happened?” she questioned. “I give up everything for everyone. A-and people just take everything I want. When is it my turn?” you stuttered. “What’s going on?” your mom asked. “I’m in love with Trevor. Since I met him and I never said anything because he’s Jack’s friend. And I told Annalise and Annalise asked him to prom and said that if I was a good friend I’d do it for her. Am I a good friend now?!” you almost shouted. The room fell silent. 
Jack looked guilty and looked at Alex, they both knew something you didn’t. “We left all my friends in Toronto to come here. I tried so hard not to like him because Jack. I never said anything. I swallowed all my feelings and I never complained! Because I’m a good daughter and a good sister and a good friend. Right?” 
You rushed off to your room. Your mom following after you. 
-
Jack’s chair scraped the floor of the restaurant as he stood. He was giving a speech at the dress rehearsal, probably better than in front of guests tomorrow. “Trevor, you’re my best friend and I’m happy if you’re happy. If anyone here doesn’t know, Annalise was my sister’s best friend,” Jack had venom laced in his voice. “My sister isn’t here tonight despite being the reason that these two are together, giving up everything for a best friend to be happy.” Alex tried tugging him to sit down. 
“And Trevor, who was too scared to admit he loved my sister…” The room was silent. Jack raised his glass of champagne. “To the happy couple.” 
Jack was practically dragged out of the room by Trevor who was upset. “What are you doing?” Trevor demanded. “What am I doing?! What are you doing? You were in love with (Y/N) and Annalise knew (Y/N) was in love with you! You act like you don’t get disappointed every time you come to visit in the summer and (Y/N) isn’t there. You ask about (Y/N) every time you talk to me. (Y/N) deserves to be loved.” 
“Stop saying her name.” 
“(Y/N) gave up everything for everyone else to be happy!” “Stop it!” Trevor yelled. “I didn’t know she loved me until Annalise told me when we were sending out invitations.” 
Jack scoffed, “You don’t think that is ironic she waited this long to tell you?” 
-
That weekend, you silently went dress shopping with your mom and Annalise. Your mom wanted to yell and protect you from the person you called a friend but you told her no. Your brothers had left you alone since your sobbing breakdown in front of them. You even gave your opinion on dresses for Annalise that you thought would look nice with Trevor’s eyes. 
The morning of prom, you didn’t want to leave bed. This was it. Your first heartbreak. They always say the first one hurts the most. Annalise had texted you multiple times about how she was going to have her hair done, about the corsage Trevor picked out. 
Jack appeared at your bedroom door with a plate of breakfast. “Can I come in?” he asked. Your bed was littered with tissues and Jack was guessing the empty ice cream pints were the ones that suddenly went missing from the freezer last night. He moved off some of the tissues and ice cream pints as he sat on the bed. “What time are you going to get ready?” he asked. “I’m not going.” 
He frowned. “I think you should go.” You sat up and he placed the plate in your lap. Your eyes were puffy and your hair was getting matted. “Last night, Annalise said she deserved him more. Because I couldn’t tell him I loved him and she could.” Jack’s heart broke. “She’s right you know? I couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry if me being friends stopped you from doing so-”
“I couldn’t do it because I was scared. And this is the price I’m paying for being scared.” Jack watched as you slowly ate the breakfast he brought up. “You’re really not going to go to prom?” he asked. “Mom said we can return my dress later, Dad said I can just say I have the stomach bug since Luke just had it.” 
“They probably won’t last anyway,” Jack said. You sniffled and looked at him. “What to you mean by that?” He shrugged, “Just a feeling.”
-
After Jack began pounding on your door, you opened it. You were dressed for bed, eyes puffy and the box of tissues from the bathroom was on the nightstand. “What Jack?” 
He entered the room and paced for a second. “If I tell you something, you have to hear me out before yelling.” 
You looked at him, he wore a guilty expression and you motioned for him to continue. “The summer before senior year, right when Trevor got back for school, he told me that he thought he could be in love with you. He told me because he didn’t want to hide it from me since I’m your brother. And then he begged me not to tell you because he wanted to wait until he was ready to tell you himself. When you came home crying and saying that he was going to prom with Annalise, Alex and I both knew he loved you. That morning when he asked if you were going to prom, I thought he was going to ask you, he was supposed to ask you! She texted him right after that! I said it wasn’t going to last because I knew he loved you. And I’ve been hoping that one day he’d snap out of it and tell you.” 
You stared at Jack. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you then and I should of. If I could go back and tell you, I would. I would tell you. I would take away all your heartache and make it better. It’s killed me for years to see you try and try to move on. He begged me not to tell you then so I didn’t but you are my sister and I should have done what was best for you.” He felt sick after you didn’t say anything. 
Jack sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he confessed the one thing he couldn’t confess for years. Your whole body was in shock but you moved silently to sit next to him. He was waiting for you to hit him, to say you weren’t his sister anymore. He wanted you to be upset and angry, it’s what he deserved. 
“If he loved me, why didn’t he break up with her after prom?” 
Jack managed a laugh, “I don’t know.” He wiped the snot from his nose, “I think I ruined the dress rehearsal. Maybe we don’t have to go to the wedding tomorrow.” 
“We could say we got the stomach bug from Luke and can’t go,” you laughed, wiping away tears that had fallen. Jack laughed hard at that. You hugged him, letting him know you didn’t hate him. He wrapped an arm around you. “I’m sorry (Y/N).” You pulled away from the hug. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
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hockeyshmockey · 2 months
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UGH TENDER SOFT MAX IS MY KRYPTONITE
Little Big Fan Series Masterlist
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A Max Verstappen x SingleMother!Reader Story
Status: ongoing (it’s a half thought out plot bear with me)
Series Summary: Your daughter runs off while you were in the middle of grocery shopping because she spotted Max, her favourite driver. Meeting you, Max wants to know everything about you and your six year old. So of course he finds excuses to keep meeting you, starting with inviting you to the Dutch Grand Prix.
current total wc: 5.7k
Note: feel free to request a drabble or chapter idea for this story.
1. Little Big Fan (1.6k words)
2. Little Big Flight (1.7k words)
3. Little Big Race (2.4k words)
4. Little Big Celebration (coming soon)
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