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scuderiahoney · 2 months

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Oscar Piastri x reader // in motion pt 2

hockey au part 2: a lil backstory, Max Verstappen’s Pizza Theory, breakfast for dinner, and the beginnings of a physics study club. 5.7k words

warnings: mentions of sports related injuries, alcohol, and a creepy guy at a party.

You met Lando your freshman year, in an intro level writing class. Lando Norris may be great at hockey, but he was and still is absolutely atrocious at writing, which you discovered quickly when you’d been paired up with him for a partner project. He was the most talkative person in the whole class, and also the most likely to fall asleep. You couldn't blame him. It was an 8 am class, and from what you could tell, he had early morning hockey practices nearly every day.

He’d noticed the Timberwolves Soccer sticker on your laptop case, the one you’d been picking at the edges of at any available moment, trying to peel it off. It wouldn’t budge. He’d tried to use that as a common interest, a way to make a connection. He hadn’t known how much of a touchy subject it was. How could he have? The two of you barely knew each other's names.

You’d been angry at the world, at the time. Fresh off a life changing injury, still dealing with the physical therapy afterwards and stuck feeling like it was all so painfully obvious due to the knee brace on your leg. You’d only come to the stupid school to play on the soccer team, anyways. A month into your freshman year, injured and off the roster, with your chances of ever playing again looking bleak, you’d had a hard time trying to find a new reason to be there.

Before you met Lando, the soccer team had been your main source of friends. When you got injured, it all went to shit. At first, you hadn’t blamed them for the distance. You were dealing with something none of them even wanted to think about. But when you had to have surgery and none of them even bothered to text and check in, you’d begun to feel bitter. It had felt so lonely, in a town where you knew nobody, and the few people you’d connected with had slipped away. Lando had helped change that. His team had helped change that.

By the time you had to have a second surgery during winter semester, you’d been fully adopted by the entire Timberwolves Hockey team. They’d sent cards and flowers that filled up the room. Lando had visited every day, at least one of his teammates in tow. Max hadn’t been team captain at the time, but he’d taken the lead on getting a schedule set up to have people help carry your things to class for you while you were on crutches. You’d found a family, a reason to stay at the school, even without your beloved sport. You’d never be able to thank them enough for it.

Now you’re in your junior year of college and sitting in the stands at a hockey game instead of on the field at a soccer game, but the people on the ice are all your best friends. They’re losing, quite terribly, if you’re being honest. The stands are half empty. They’re just… off, today, in the second game of the week. Not quite in sync. You can see the frustration on all of them even from all the way up in the stands. Charles and Carlos are bickering on the bench. Max is skating messily. Lando looks lost on the ice, like his skates have a mind of their own. Even Oscar is struggling.

When the buzzer sounds for the end of the game, you stand up from your seat and head outside. Lily’s not here tonight- she has to work- so you’re on your own as you head toward the house. You text Max and ask if you should order pizza. He replies with an enthusiastic yes, a list of requests, and $100 on Venmo.

You have the pizza waiting, along with paper plates and Gatorade, by the time the first one of them walks into the house. It’s Oscar. He shuffles into the kitchen and looks at the pizza boxes with a wrinkled nose.

“Are you guys having a party?” He asks.

You sort of hate the way he says it. You guys. Like it’s not his house. Like it’s not his team. You know the feeling, really, of sort of just drifting along with nothing to cling onto. You tilt your head at him and slide a bottle of Gatorade across the counter towards him.

“No,” you say, and his shoulders relax slightly. “Usually after a tough game, Max likes to do some sort of team bonding. So. Pizza. He didn’t tell you?”

Oscar shrugs. “He probably did. Dunno. I was kind of out of it, and I snuck out as soon as the coaches were done yelling.”

You wince and nod in understanding. “I used to be the same way after bad games.”

You don’t even realize what you’ve hinted at until his head jerks up from where he’s been staring at the bottle in front of him. “You play sports?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. You suppose he’ll hear the story eventually, but maybe now isn’t the best time. Maybe he doesn’t need your pity party while he’s trying to have his own. Maybe it’s nice that he doesn’t feel bad for you, just confused by you and your constant presence around the hockey team.

“Used to,” you say. When his face flickers with confusion, you hand him a paper plate. “Have some pizza. Captain’s orders.”

He stands there, staring, looking so unsure.

“You can take it up to your room if you really want, I won’t tattle” you say, and he twists his mouth. “Honestly, though? I hate to watch you guys lose, but sometimes these nights are some of the best. You should stick around.”

He pulls a piece of pepperoni pizza from the box and sets it on the plate. Then he takes a seat at one of the kitchen island barstools. You hope he doesn’t hear your sigh of relief.

An hour later, the kitchen, dining room, and back deck are full of people, and they’re all complaining about the game. Charles and Carlos are at the table, no longer angry with each other, instead complaining about a defenseman on the other team. Lando’s draped over Alex’s shoulder, loudly fake crying over god knows what. Oscar’s on Alex’s other side, laughing loudly at Lando’s dramatics.

You’re pouring drinks for the three of them- you’d offered when you noticed the empty cups. It’s not a party, but the alcohol helps numb the bitter feeling of a bad game. Max is standing nearby, looking proud. He elbows you.

“Pizza theory,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

You laugh. “Yeah, Max. Another one for the pizza theory.”

He’s had this running… experiment, of sorts, for a couple years now. It started after a string of bad games your freshman year, his sophomore year. He’d pointed out that when the team had pizza together after a loss, the next game was always a win. So he’d begun trying things out and writing down the results- you’ve seen the Google document, now co-organized by Charles. Pizza leads to wins almost 95% of the time. Chinese sits at a healthy 70%. They tried Subway one time and all got so sick off of it they nearly had to cancel the next game, so they never tried again.

You’ve told him before that you don’t think it’s really about the pizza- it’s about the time spent together, and the space to be just teammates again. It’s not like they’re apologizing or talking strategy, but put a bunch of greasy food in front of them and they’ll start to unwind. Mend bridges. Build new ones, even, you think, as you watch Oscar and Alex chat, heads leaned close together.

They win the next game by one point. It’s an away game, but you watch it from your apartment with Lily and a couple other friends, grinning the whole way through. You have pizza in honor of Max’s theory. Charles nearly tackles Oscar onto the ice when he scores. When the camera zooms in on the smiles on both of their faces, your heart melts. Lando howls like a wolf at the end of the game, which is simultaneously endearing and cringe inducing. When they get back to the hotel, he FaceTimes you from the elevator. It’s full of hockey boys with big grins on their faces. Max, hair still dripping wet from the shower, his arm slung around Lando, is smiling brightest of them all.

“Pizza theory!” he yells, and you can’t fight a grin in return.

“Pizza theory indeed,” you reply.

Oscar’s head pops up on the screen. You can only see his eyes and forehead, and he seems to know, because he wiggles his brows. It makes you laugh.

“What’s pizza theory?” He asks.

“You have much to learn, young grasshopper,” Lando quips.

“We’ll show you the Google doc later,” Charles promises. “Right now, we are going to the pool.”

…..

Oscar doesn’t join in the game afterparties for weeks. You don’t take it personally, but you do wonder why he doesn’t want to celebrate with his team. You even ask Lando to make sure he knows he’s invited. Your friend just looks at you like you’re crazy, which you suppose you are.

In the end, the party he does show up at isn’t even one after a game. It’s a bye week, and Seb gives them Saturday night off of practice, so they throw what starts out as a hangout and quickly morphs into a full on party. There are people spilling out into the lawn. Lando’s in charge of the music and taking it very seriously. And Oscar is in the kitchen, chatting with Alex over their red plastic cups. It’s an odd sight, but a welcome one. You’re trying not to stare.

Instead, you’re standing nearby, listening to Charles and Carlos argue. It’s over something stupid, you’re pretty sure- it almost always is. Max is standing next to you, hiding his amusement behind his own plastic cup. The three of them have a weird dynamic. Charles and Carlos have known each other for a while- they played together on a team before they started college. Max and Charles go farther back, though. They’re childhood rivals turned captain and alternate captain. They’re all oddly competitive over who likes who more or less. It’s entertaining, to say the least.

You’re really only half listening, using them to take appropriate breaks from watching Oscar. You’d tried to convince yourself you were just keeping an eye on him at first, that you were making sure he was okay and having fun. Now, two drinks deep, you’ve stopped making excuses in your own head. You just like the way he looks in the glow of Lando’s cheesy LED light strips. They’re purple tonight. Oscar’s cheekbones are painted purple because of it. You know there are freckles there, dotting his skin. You wish you were close enough to see them.

Eventually, you leave the guys to their arguing, tear your eyes from Oscar, and start to wander the party. There’s a lot going on, and there are a lot of people in the house that you’ve never met before. That happens, at these sort of events, you’ve found. The unplanned ones end up being an odd mix of people. So when you find yourself leaning against a wall and a guy you don’t recognize comes up to talk to you, you’re not exactly surprised. When he plants his hand next to your head on the wall, though, that does surprise you.

“I hear they call you Bunny,” he says, leering over you.

You hate the way he uses the nickname, the way it sounds on his lips. He leans close, caging you in. You swallow tightly, trying to peer over his shoulder and spot any one of your friends. It’s no use. He’s tall and broad and blocking your view. You say a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that one of your friends notices your absence.

“My friends do, yeah,” you say, hoping he takes the hint. “Actually, I have to go find-“

He cuts you off when he leans closer. You press yourself back against the wall. You can smell the cheap beer on his breath. Your heart pounds in your chest. Fight or flight or freeze, time to choose.

“Come on, sweetie,” the guy says. “Be a good bunny and-“

Someone’s hand clamps down on his shoulder. That’s all you see before he’s ripped away from you. It’s like you can breathe again, suddenly, relief flashing through your brain like the purple lights in the kitchen. It’s followed quickly by concern, though, when you catch sight of what’s going on.

Oscar has him pinned against the wall, one hand on his shoulder, his other fist cocked back, elbow bent, ready to throw a punch. There’s fury on his face. You’ve never seen him like this. Oscar doesn’t really fight. Not now, not at his previous team, not before then, either. You know it because Lando mentioned it when talking about how levelheaded he was. Plus, there are no helmets or pads to protect him here. Just him and his apparent anger.

“Mate,” Max says, carefully, appearing almost out of thin air. “Cool down, yeah?”

Oscar grits his teeth and clenches his jaw. You blink widely at the sight in front of you. Max’s eyes flicker to you, to the way you’re huddled against the wall, and understanding washes over his face.

“Piastri,” Max says, which seems to clear a bit of the fog from Oscar's head. The younger teammate turns to look at his captain and falters slightly. “I think you’ve proved your point.”

Oscar takes it for what it is- a thinly veiled command. Fighting on the rink is one thing. Fighting at a party they’re definitely not supposed to be having is another. Once they’re in motion, fights are difficult to stop, even harder to control, really. It'll get out of hand, so, so quickly. Seb would have their heads on a silver platter, and Max is always responsible for the actions of the team- it comes with being captain. He drops his fist and backs away slightly. Max nods.

The guy sneers at you, then Oscar, and then he spits on the floor near your feet. “Dumb bitch-“

In the blink of an eye, he’s pinned back to the wall, this time by Max, both hands on each of his shoulders. He tosses a look over his shoulder at Oscar.

“Get her out of here?” He says, and Oscar nods frantically.

He takes your hand, gentle as ever. You follow along nearly blindly as tears begin to well up in your eyes. Oscar weaves through the crowd, a man on a mission, and heads for the stairs. You dodge a couple who are making out on the top step, and he makes his way to his bedroom. They keep the rooms locked during parties- he punches his code in and ushers you inside. You nearly laugh through your tears when you see number 44, Lewis Hamilton, staring down from the poster on the wall. You wonder if Oscar knows he and Lando have matching ones.

He sits you down on the bed, reaching to turn on the lamp. He moves around the room quickly, and he tosses you a hoodie from his drawer, which you pull over your head gratefully. You hadn’t noticed until then how you had your own arms wrapped around your body, like you were hiding. You shake your hands out, flexing your fingers, trying to get the feeling back in them.

He sighs and reaches for the door. “Okay. You’re okay. Just- I’ll close the door behind me and-“

“Where are you going?” You ask, suddenly feeling panicky. You think it’s clear just from the sound of your voice, too.

“To get Lando,” he says, freezing in place, hand on the doorknob as he looks at you.

You sniffle. “Max will find him. Could you- can you- I don’t want to be alone, really, so-“

“Fuck. Shit. Sorry,” Oscar says.

Then he does the last thing you’d have expected. He sits down on the bed next to you, close enough to touch, and then wraps an arm around your shoulders. You gasp at the feeling, but lean into it, feeling a bit of relief running down your spine. His hand covers your whole shoulder.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, and you nod. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t really think about it.”

“It’s okay,” you answer, unsure what he’s even apologizing for- almost leaving or touching you. Either way, it’s fine.

The two of you sit there in the relative quiet for a minute or two. Downstairs, the music is loud as ever. Oscar’s hand is heavy on your shoulder, and you’re still a bit stuck in fight or flight mode. Maybe you’re just frozen, really. You can still smell the beer on the other guy’s breath, can still see the anger on Oscar’s face, can still feel the panic when he was about to leave you. Your chest is tight, fingertips still buzzing.

“Were you actually going to punch him?” You ask, breaking the silence in the room, trying to find something to distract yourself.

Oscar huffs. “The first time, probably not. But when he called you a…” he shrugs. “If Max hadn’t been there…”

You turn to look at him. “Why?”

He blinks, almost taken aback that you’d even ask. “You know. Take care of the team and all.”

You sniffle. “But I’m not on the team.”

“Might as well be, all the time you spend here.”

“Yeah, but…” you trail off. “You don’t… you don’t care about me. You- why would you get into a fight for me?”

He’s quiet for a moment. You’re waiting for the canned answer. Because nobody else was around. Because I knew it’d earn me brownie points with the rest of the team. Because-

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “For making you feel like I didn’t care.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. His hand squeezes your shoulder. Your heart squeezes in your chest. You hadn’t meant for this to go this direction, and now your face is hot and your throat hurts and there are tears welling up behind your closed eyelids.

“I just… I showed up here, and everyone already has their friend groups and buddies and-“ he huffs again, and realization starts to dawn on you. “And they all love you, and they’re super protective of you. And I’ve been so busy trying to find my place here and not step on any toes, I guess I forgot to try and make friends, too, you know?”

You sigh. “I don’t bite, you know. I’m very easy to be friends with. I can be low maintenance if that’s what you need. Or- what’s Lando call it? Low frequency?”

Oscar laughs. “I know.”

You turn to look up at him, and your breath hitches when he reaches up and wipes a couple tears from your cheeks. An hour ago, you thought he couldn’t care less about you. Now you’re sitting in his room, and he’s wiping away tears with a tender touch that makes your stomach ache. His eyes trace your face, like he’s looking for injury, for a source of the pain. It’s overwhelming.

“Okay. So stop ignoring me in class? And in general?” You say, trying to redirect things.

He groans, dropping his chin to his chest. “That was- it wasn’t even on purpose, I just didn’t notice and then when I did it felt too late to say anything, so-“

You break off into a fit of giggles. He drops his arm from around your shoulder, and you miss the warmth immediately. You try not to let it show as he drags his hands over his face and echoes your laughter with his own. When you lean against his shoulder, your side pressed to his, he stays steady and lets you do it.

“It’s okay,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. “Fresh start, yeah?”

He nods. You stick your hand out to him. He laughs and wraps his own around yours, shaking firmly.

“Awesome. Because I have a feeling you’re smart,” you say. “And I’m seriously going to fail our physics class unless you help me.”

Oscar laughs, and the way it takes over his whole body makes you smile. His head bumps against yours, but you can’t even find it in you to mind. It’s enough that he’s laughing around you.

“Okay, but you have to help me, too,” he says, hand still wrapped with yours, and he squeezes it. “I wanna fit in here. I mean, I’m not even from this continent, you know. So trying to find my place has been…”

Your heart aches for him. Suddenly it all makes sense. You know the feeling of being an outsider all too well. So you smile and nod and shake his hand again. “Deal.”

Lando comes and finds the two of you only a few minutes later. He knocks on the door, and Oscar opens it just a crack before he lets his teammate in. He leaves the two of you with a quick nod, seeming to understand that his job here is done. Lando takes you back to his room a few minutes later, his arm around your waist and his head knocking against yours. You pass Max in the hallway, who exchanges a look with Lando and reaches out to squeeze your arm. You’re sure he’ll interrogate you tomorrow to make sure you’re feeling okay.

Lando doesn’t even question the fact that Oscar was the one to take care of you- you suppose to him, it just makes sense. Teammates looking out for teammates, or in this case, their teammate’s friend. He just checks in on you, cleans up the last few tears from your face, and then suggests you stay the night. You don’t exactly want to go back downstairs and through the party, so you agree. You change into a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt, though you keep Oscar’s sweatshirt and put it back on, too. Lando gives you the bed and pulls out the air mattress that he keeps on hand for this, and the two of you fall asleep to the sound of the bass shaking the walls of the house.

…..

The family dinner the next day is loosely breakfast themed. The guys are all dead in the morning, so you take it upon yourself to go do the shopping. And for that, you drag along your trusty assistant, Logan Sargeant. He’s one of few people on the team with his driver’s license, since so many of them are international students and never bothered getting one, and he has a car. Besides that, he’s a rookie, and he’s contractually obligated -meaning Max has politely asked him- to help you whenever you ask. He picks you up in his tiny Toyota, and then you’re off to the grocery store.

He carries the list while you stroll the aisles. “I’ve never heard of literally half the stuff on this list,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “That’s because you’re uncultured.”

You reach up on one of the shelves, snagging a jar with a yellow lid and label. He checks it off the list, brow furrowed.

“I thought this was breakfast for dinner night,” he adds, scrunching his nose up.

You turn to him, giving him an exasperated sigh. “It is. There’s just… a secondary theme. Don’t worry, my American boy, you’ll get your omelette.”

“Omelettes are French!” He cries out, huffing as you start to walk down the aisle, away from him. “The word is literally French!”

“Whatever you say, Miami,” you tease. “What’s next on the list?”

You buy Logan a coffee from a local place on your way back as a thank you for his help. In return, he tells you he forgives you for your comments about him being American. When you pull up to the house, you can see Lando and Charles in the living room. They come outside quickly, ready to help carry the bags in.

You head for the kitchen, one very specific bag in hand. When you walk in, you find Oscar, perched on a barstool, head pressed against his fist as his elbow rests on the counter. Max is on the phone in the dining area, chatting away loudly in another language. You can tell Oscar has a headache, just from the look on his face.

“You’re just the guy I was looking for,” you say, brightly but not too loud.

He blinks a couple times, then points at himself. “I’m an awful cook, if that’s what you’re implying.

You laugh and shake your head. “No, no- not that. But it’s breakfast night, right? So-“ you pull a jar of Vegemite out of the bag and set it down on the counter. “I got this. And then I went a little crazy in the international aisle of the grocery store. Oh, and I got sprinkles? The internet said something about fairy bread and I’m intrigued-“

You pause when he reaches for the jar, and his fingers brush yours. When you look up, there’s a look on his face you don’t quite recognize. It’s almost unbearably soft. You pull your hand out from under his so he can take the jar.

“You got Australian snacks,” he says, so quietly and almost reverently. “You…”

You shrug. “We talked about finding your place. One of the best ways I’ve found to do that is to tell people a little bit about yourself. It doesn’t have to be deep, could just be…”

He leans up and peeks in the bag, and his eyes go wide as he gasps, “TimTams!”

You laugh. “Yeah, could just be TimTams.”

He grins up at you, big and wide and so, so endeared. It’s a whole different side of him. You feel unbelievably proud of yourself for the idea.

Lando comes into the kitchen, hands full of bags. “Yeah, thanks, guys, we don’t need help.”

Charles is right behind him. “It’s fine, actually- hey, you bought Oscar cookies?”

Oscar hugs the package to his chest, suddenly possessive. You laugh and reach into one of the bags Lando is holding. In your hand is another package of TimTams.

“I got two of everything,” you tell Oscar. “To share and to keep.”

He smiles again, and lets the TimTams fall from his chest. “You all have to try one.”

Max gets off the phone and helps unpack things, setting out the stuff he’ll need for dinner tonight. You watch on with a fond smile as Oscar introduces all the snacks to anyone who’s willing to listen. Lando, Logan, and Charles sit with rapt attention as Oscar tells them childhood stories about all the snacks. Meanwhile, Max starts making pancake batter, and you start prepping the other ingredients.

Max elbows you lightly as the other guys laugh together. “You did good.”

You smile at him, shrugging. “We had a nice talk last night.”

Max cocks his head, smiling softly. “Before or after he tried to punch a guy out for you?”

Your face heats up at the comment, and you look away from Max and back to the food in front of you. “Last I remember, you had that guy pinned to the wall.”

Max makes a noncommittal noise. “I should’ve let Oscar punch him.”

You want to argue. To tell him that you’re not worth the trouble of that, and that he was right to tell Oscar to back off and send both of you away. But when you look up at him, the look on his face is a mixture of concern and determination. You blink, and he nudges his shoulder against yours.

“He deserved to be punched,” Max says, and you shrug. “And if you ever see him again, you call one of us. And maybe at the next party, you-“

“I’m fine,” you insist, picking up a plate and heading for the dining table. “Promise.”

More and more teammates file in, and now Lando’s the one forcing them to try TimTams, and encouraging Oscar to tell a story about being 5 and eating them in a pool, or something along those lines. You listen, even with your back turned, and hope that this helps Oscar feel a little bit more at home.

Later, after dinner, while everyone else is cleaning up, Oscar finds you in the living room. He holds out a plate. On top of it, laid out perfectly and carefully, are three TimTams.

“You didn’t try any earlier,” he says. He shifts on his feet when you take the plate. “I wanted to say thank you. Again.”

You smile up at him, laying your book on your chest. “Not a problem, Piastri. It was the least I could do, after you helped me last night.”

He frowns slightly, nose wrinkling up in mild disgust. “You know you don’t owe me for that, right?”

You nod as you pick up a TimTam off the plate. “But I can still say thank you. So. Thank you, again.”

He nods, and his face goes soft when you take a bite of the cookie and look up at him. It’s like he’s waiting with bated breath, desperate to know if you like them or not. You break out into a wide grin at the taste and nod eagerly up at him.

“Yeah, okay,” you say, eyeing the cookies on the plate. “I get the obsession.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement. One of your arms is resting on the back of the couch, and as if on reflex, he brushes his hand against yours. His skin is warm and soft. Your breath catches in your chest.

He backs away to disappear upstairs, then, with a soft “Goodnight,” that you echo, but not before you catch the tinge of red on his cheeks.

…..

In physics class on Monday, you watch Oscar waver in the doorway. He takes a stilted step towards the seat he normally sits in, across the lecture hall, and then he stops. You blink in confusion, taking a sip of coffee from your travel mug. He seems to take a breath, and then he turns- you pretend you’re not watching as he walks towards you instead. You pretend your heart isn’t racing as he walks up next to you. It shouldn’t be racing. Why is your heart racing?

“Is this seat taken?” He asks, politely, quietly, like it’s the first day of class.

You bite back a laugh when you look up at him, because his cheeks are red and he looks so, so proud of himself. “It’s open,” you say, smiling up at him.

He nods, sets his bag down on the desk, and then collapses into the chair next to you. He stares at your travel mug enviously as he slips his laptop from his bag, and you do laugh at that, at the tight furrow in his brow, at the pout on his lips. He glares at you, then, and then it all dissolves into a yawn. Something about it makes your chest ache- maybe it’s the way he pulls his hands into his hoodie sleeves. He looks like he could curl up right there and fall asleep.

“Early practice?” You ask, smiling sympathetically.

“So early,” he says, rubbing his eyes blearily. “I hate Seb.” Then he frowns, and shakes his head. “No, I don’t. But I do love sleep.”

You laugh and elbow him lightly. “I’ll bring you coffee on Wednesday. As long as you make good on your promise to help me study for this exam.”

His eyes light up, and he elbows you back, smiling brightly. “Easy trade. We’re going to get you an A+.”

You roll your eyes. Before you can respond, the professor calls the class to order, and you both open your laptops. But Oscar’s there, and he’s agreed to help you study, and when you lose your place in the notes halfway through the lecture he helps you get back on track with a sweet smile. It definitely doesn’t make butterflies swirl in your stomach.

Two days later, you walk into the kitchen, paper bag in hand, and you’re greeted with bright smiles and eager hands. Lando grabs for the bag, and Alex isn’t far behind him. Even Max, who’s cooking something on the stovetop, seems to perk up.

“Hey, hey,” you scold, snatching the bag out of their reach. “Not for you.”

Lando furrows his brows. “You’re my best friend, you show up at my house, and you have food that’s not for me?”

You shrug. “It’s for my study group,” you explain, holding the bag high above your head as you walk towards the dining room.

Oscar pops his head through the doorway and smiles at you. He takes the bag from your hand. “Hi. Ready?”

Lando blinks at the two of you in bewilderment. “Um?”

“We’re gonna get an A+ in physics,” Oscar says to Lando, drumming his free hand on the doorframe.

You scoff. “I’m unsure if that’s possible, at this point. But I’m hoping to at least pass.”

You head for the dining table and sit down. Oscar already has all his study materials spread out, so you do the same. When you look up, Lando is having some sort of almost silent conversation with Oscar, talking in hushed tones and facial expressions that do very little to tell you what’s going on. You see Oscar shake his head, then nod, then shake his head again. Max is watching them, too, in amusement. You exchange a glance with the team captain, and he shrugs. His food is burning on the stove- you can smell it. Alex’s far too calm announcement of that fact breaks up whatever was happening between Oscar and Lando.

Oscar turns back to you, brows raised. “Ready?”

Behind him, Max opens the kitchen window and waves smoke out of it.

You nod. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You unpack Chinese takeout containers and dish out food on plates. Oscar’s teammates wander through occasionally, sticking their heads into the dining areas to say hi and ask how things are going, but for a while, it’s just the two of you. You find that Oscar’s a great study partner. He’s kind when you ask questions, willing to explain things in a way that you understand. And, when you get bored, you have him to look at. The serious look on his face, the little furrow in his brow, the soft curve of his lips when you answer a question correctly. He’s nice to look at, that’s all.

You walk home later that night feeling better about your odds on the physics exam, and better about the whole situation with Oscar. You think you might finally be winning him over. Halfway to your apartment, you pause on the sidewalk, overlooking the campus park. It would be shorter to just cut through the park. Take the more direct route. You study it for a few moments in the hazy blue post sunset light. Then you turn down the sidewalk and continue on your original route home.

Read Part 3, Losing The Dream!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @arian-directioner @racingheartsposts @sakuramxchii

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @verstoppenheimer @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @coolmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main

crossed out blogs are ones i was unable to tag!!

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hyperfixatedbastard · 3 months

Text

one must grab the titty

Soft!Adam x AFAB!Reader

It's no surprise that Adam's big on physical touch, but you expected it to be - well, sexual. Turns out that this clingy, hypersexual douchebag actually likes innocent, nonsexual intimacy. Like holding your boobs just 'cause they're nice to hold.

Word Count: 926

WARNINGS: SFW (I think?), AFAB!Reader with gender neutral pronouns, mentions of sex, no sexual content, nonsexual intimacy

A/N: I kinda hate this but I'm tired of working on it, so here ya go! Apologies if you have no tits, but let's be honest, that wouldn't stop this bastard.

Dividers

Adam has some… odd habits, at least by Heavenly standards. Sometimes you wonder just how exactly he’s an angel, but you’ve learned to not question it. He may be a douchebag and an asshole, but he has his moments. He’s sweet with you, at least. You never expected him to be a doting, clingy boyfriend, but he certainly proved you wrong.

No matter where you are or what you’re doing, he’ll have an arm around your waist, or one of his wings loosely wrapped around you. Adam is a possessive guy (after hearing about the whole Lucifer debacle, you can’t really blame him), and he makes it clear with the way he interacts with you in public. And in private, he’s arguably worse—you’re lucky to sit down without him draping an arm over your shoulders to pull you in close, or practically pulling you into his lap. He’d never admit it, but you think he needs the reassurance that you’re still there, that you haven’t left him.

You’re not so sure about that theory once the touches go past cuddling.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"Adam," you begin in a suspicious tone. "What are you doing?"

The angel in question blinks back at you owlishly. His mask and robes have been traded out for some sweatpants and a t-shirt that reads ‘I Got ADHD’ with the subtitle ‘A Damn Hard Dick.’ The two of you are cuddling on the couch in your shared apartment, with some shitty action movie playing on the TV as you sit wrapped up in his arms and wings with your back to his chest (you didn’t think that action movies would be allowed in Heaven considering the murder and whatnot, but once again, you don’t question it).

"Hm?" he hums innocently. "I'm watching the fuckin' movie, babe."

You glance down to where his hand is shamelessly groping your boob over your shirt. You debate whether or not to even confront him about it, considering he isn't actually doing anything other than just holding your tit, but you ask anyways.

"Why is your hand on my boob, then?" you prompt, your eyes shifting between his face and where his hand is idly groping your chest.

Adam chuckles and breaks out into a smug grin. "What? Can't a guy hold his partner's tits?" He gently squeezes your boob for emphasis.

Your face heats up at that, and your eyes narrow in confusion. "Why do you want to?"

"Uh, because they're fucking great," he answers incredulously, like you're the weird one here. He then brings his free hand up to hold your other boob. He gives them both a gentle squeeze, but doesn't do anything more than that. The lack of a sexual innuendo, joke, or proposition doesn’t make sense to you—it feels out of character for Adam, even after learning about his love of cuddling.

You just look at him, confused. Sure, you've always known that he's a boob guy, but this doesn't strike you as Adam's usual horny antics. But if it’s not sexual (which you still find hard to believe), what the fuck is it?

He seems to realize that his original explanation isn’t good enough. "Look, hot stuff, boobs are just nice to fuckin' hold, y'know? All soft n' squishy n' shit."

You raise a brow at that. It’s a fair point, you suppose. "So, what, my tits are like stress balls for you?"

Adam laughs—not that loud, boisterous laugh he does when pranking some poor soul, but that more genuine, softer one few people ever got to hear. "Yeah, pretty fuckin' much, babe. They're comforting!"

You roll your eyes at him, albeit fondly, as a smile pulled at your lips. "Whatever works for you, I guess."

His smirk grows, and he squeezes your boobs a little firmer this time. "Oh, these beauties are fucking workin' for me, sweet cheeks."

You scoff, albeit lightheartedly, and swat at his shoulder. "Shut up and watch your damn movie."

Adam doesn’t respond, but he pulls you a little closer and gives your tits one last good squeeze before returning his attention to the TV—for the most part, at least. His hands don’t leave your chest, but they don’t really do much either. They’re just resting there, occasionally groping or giving a light squeeze. Damn, this really isn’t a sex thing for him, is it?

You’d already been shocked when you’d first realized how clingy Adam is. You were even more surprised to discover that he’s a fan of nonsexual intimacy in general, like cuddling and hugging without it leading to something more. And here he is, surprising you once again by doing something that should surely be sexual in his mind, yet treating it casually and barely even making sex jokes about it.

A few more minutes into the movie, you can’t hide your curiosity anymore. “This really isn’t a sexual thing for you?”

Adam’s eyebrows raise, and he looks puzzled at your question before breaking out into a smirk. “Why, do you want it to be?”

You scoff and shake your head. “No, I’m just… surprised, is all.”

“Hey! I can appreciate some nice boobs without it being sexual,” he protests, and he sounds at least partially serious.

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” you assure him with a soft laugh. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“Good, ‘cause I fuckin' like this,” Adam remarks, once again squeezing your boobs for emphasis. You just fondly roll your eyes at him and go back to watching the movie.

Having a clingy boyfriend is pretty nice, actually.

Taglist: @3sire-777

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x you #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel oneshots

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bloodreddemons · 4 months

Text

Hazbin Hotel Episode 5-6 Hot Takes! ~

Lucifer doesn't really seem like a necessarily "good" dad or "bad" dad. He's definitely not the greatest at all but it really does suck that Charlie was pretty much isolated from him. Not completely his fault I'm sure.

I know it's obvious at this point that Lucifer & Alastor don't like each other...but you can definitely tell Alastor HATES him. His face was just stuck on stink the entire time.

To follow that up, I wonder why Alastor doesn't like Lucifer so much. Maybe it has to do with Lilith or Eve?

I like Lucifer's personality despite being the literal Devil he's actually very goofy. I don't think this was even a hot take. Lol.

Alastor saying fuck is the funniest thing in this show so far. It was actually gold. Bless him.

I hate that there was actual discourse surrounding episode 5 regarding Charlastor, and that people who hate the ship took the opportunity to either be pissed about their interactions, or celebrate that the ship is dead.

Hell's Greatest Dad was a nice song I really enjoyed it. Alastor and Lucifer sounded great.

A lot of people have already said this, but I think it's pretty obvious that Alastor was only trying to piss Lucifer off with the daughter comments. I don't think he actually sees him & Charlie as family.

Saying that Charlie can almost call Alastor Daddy was jaw dropping lol. I don't get how the ship is dead. It's definitely revived.

I fucking hate Mimzy. She's just an awful friend. She's literally that fake friend that only hits you up when you need something. I don't get how Alastor has been (hazbin) friends with her for so long. Christ.

I would've just thrown Mimzy to the Lone Sharks.

I wonder who "owns" Alastor? Most likely Lilith, that's what everybody has said. It could also possibly be Eve tho. He's definitely been working with someone.

Alastor's monster eldritch form kinda looks how a lot of us expected.

I don't get how Charlie is going to tell Lucifer, the first fallen angel EVER, and God's actual former favorite, what Heaven would say or think. He's already been there before. He knows how they work.

"More than Anything" was actually a pretty sweet song. It kinda hit close to home. Lucifer really sounded like the Angel he is.

Cherri & Sir Pentious are actually really cute. I kinda saw that one coming. Idk how they'd fuck tho. Ewwww.

Something is weird about Charlie not being on that list when they got to Heaven. Some people have speculated that she's in the wrong place. Hmmmm.

I don't really care for Sera or Emily. Idk I just don't. Sorry y'all.

"Welcome To Heaven" was such a weird gay ass song. 🤣 Why was that white ass twink priest practically moaning lmao...but the song was giving some type of backstreet boys or NSYNC.

I didn't think Lute or any of the exterminators actually had faces. That was a shock.

Even though it was already obvious to so many I was still gagged when the Vaggie Angel theory was finally confirmed. I love the way she met Charlie.

Not a hot take but I fucking hate Lute & Adam for doing Vaggie like that. She definitely didn't deserve it. All she did was spare one fucking child. They're evil.

The blackmailing Vaggie thing was very anticlimactic and dumb as fuck especially since they made Vaggie avoid being questioned. It would've been more interesting if Vaggie did what Adam said and spoke against Charlie at the meeting.

I've come to realize that Heaven is just shit and nobody knows what they're doing. The fact that they have a piece of shit like Adam up there and he himself doesn't know why he's there in the first place is very telling.

I don't think Cherri is a bad friend at all, but it was very off putting for her to constantly peer pressure Angel Dust when he's been trying to have a good streak. I get that she's a party animal and don't give a fuck but she could at least be mindful of her friend that's trying to stop their bad habits.

Angel being protective of Nifty when she was drunk was so cute. I'm happy he saved her from Val even if she didn't need it.

"You didn't know" was meh. It had some good parts I liked the overlapping of "Hell Is Forever" but thats really it.

I feel like Charlie is going to forgive Vaggie pretty quickly. I don't think this dramatic revelation of her past is going to cause that big of a rift in their relationship at all, especially with how quick they made up in episode 3.

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shadowdaddies · 6 months

Note

no man has ever made me come, not even close to that

so, could you write reader experiencing that frustration, telling hunt how boring sex while out drinking, and him proving how wrong she is?

have a nice day!! 💕

I feel you. This might just be my beef with the patriarchy talking but I swear men act like it's harder than it is because they're lazy. But Hunt knows what's up. Have a nice day, honey!💜

Electric Feel

Hunt Athalar x f!Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, overstimulation, p in v sex, minors dni, not proofread

Slumped down in the cushions of the sofa, you sipped your wine, half-watching ‘Fangs and Bangs’ while talking with your friend, Hunt. The angel groaned dramatically from where he lounged on his chair, twisting his sunball cap to cover his eyes. “Please change the channel! I can’t take this shit anymore,” he pleaded, his voice muffled by the fabric of his cap.

Scoffing at his ridiculous attitude, you reached for the remote. “Gods, okay, I’m changing it. I’m tired of this show anyway. They play up the sex like it’s so great when it’s so overhyped,” you grumbled, more to yourself than to Hunt. His attention was caught, however - Hunt practically leaping from where he sat, sunball cap forgotten to the floor as he leaned towards you in interest.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s so overhyped’?” he pressed, brown eyes boring into you. Setting down the remote, you turned to face him, blinking as you realized how close he was to you. You swallowed, forcing in a deep breath as you met Hunt’s intense gaze.

“I mean, it’s not as great as people make it seem. Half the time, it’s not even enjoyable. Not to mention a guy has never even been able to make me cum.” Hunt jumped back as if you were the one throwing around lightning bolts.

“You’ve never had an orgasm?!” Hunt practically shouted, mouth hanging open as he gaped at you.

Reaching forward, you swatted his massive bicep. “Say it louder - someone at the bottom of the Istros might not have heard you!” With a huff, you plopped back down against the sofa. “And I haven’t never had an orgasm. I know how to get myself off. It’s just males who don’t know what they’re doing in bed.”

Hunt had the audacity to laugh, leaning back in his seat as he laced his hands together behind his head. “That’s not an issue I’ve ever had.” You whipped your head to see a cocky grin on his face that you were determined to wipe off.

With a sickeningly sweet smile, you retorted, “you do know that females fake it, right? I wonder how many have faked it with you.” You found yourself successful in removing his smile, immediately regretting it as Hunt’s eyes darkened, his arms slowly dropping to his sides.

Wings slightly flaring out behind him, Hunt answered you, his voice lethally quiet. “If you would like to test that theory, I would be more than willing to show you how real I can make your orgasm.”

You refused to give Hunt the upper hand in this conversation. Sure that he would back down, you decided to challenge him. “Okay,” you said in the most nonchalant tone that you could manage. His brown eyes widened, a distinct change in his scent as Hunt blinked at you. You weren’t expecting this reaction - fully thinking that Hunt would blow the conversation off as a joke. But as his wings twitched behind him, you realized Hunt wanted this, and you startled at the realization that you did too.

Hunt noticed your change in scent, arousal now hanging thick in the air as you and your best friend eyed each other hungrily. “If we do this, promise me that things won’t get weird between us. This is just for you to enjoy yourself - I don’t want to lose my best friend because sex made it awkward.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the cocky angel. “I think I can refrain from falling in love with you. Sex has proven to be the quickest way for me to get over a guy.” Turning beet red when you heard how that sounded, you were quick to amend, “not that there’s anything about you to get over! Like, I’m not under you, you know.” Oh gods, this was embarrassing.

Hunt just laughed, pulling your hands away from your face to gently hold one, rubbing soothing circles across the back of it. “Well, let’s get you under me, then,” he said with a wink, yanking you up by your hand before he threw you over his shoulder with ease. You squealed, shouting in protest as he carried you to your bedroom.

Hunt just smacked your ass in response, earning a gasp before he threw you on the bed. He ripped off his shirt, baring his toned chest as he crawled over your body. The butterflies that erupted in your stomach were making it difficult to breathe, looking up at your friend as you prepared to cross the point of no return.

“Are you still alright with this?” Hunt whispered, his features softening as he brought a hand to hold your cheek. You nodded, taking a deep breath as you removed your top, now left only in your bra and leggings beneath him. “Beautiful,” he whispered, one hand immediately finding your breast as his lips gravitated towards your neck.

As Hunt kissed and licked his way down your neck, his hand pushed the cup of your bra down, palming your breast before tugging the nipple, earning a gasp from you that made him chuckle against your skin. He continued kissing his way down, yanking your bra down to completely expose your chest, flicking his tongue against your tweaked nipple. You mewled at the sensation, writhing under Hunt’s firm hold as he repeated his actions to your other breast. This sex was already better than most you had before, but you wouldn’t give Hunt the satisfaction of telling him that. “Gods, Hunt. Do you plan on fucking me or are you just going to tease all night?”

Hunt looked up at you, his eyes nearly black as he flashed a wicked grin. “Oh, I’ll let you come on my cock. But I’ll take my time making you come with my hands and tongue first.” You blushed at his words, biting your lip as you watched the angel continue his path down your stomach, large hands gripping the waistband of your leggings.

Hunt dipped down, pressing his nose to your center as he breathed in your scent through your clothes. Whimpering at his teasing touch, you wiggled your hips in a silent request for more. Kissing your clit through the fabric, Hunt lightly dragged his teeth and lips over your core, a slow taunt before he finally tugged your leggings down, leaving you finally and fully bare for him.

Throwing your clothing to the side, Hunt sat up slightly as he admired your figure before spreading your legs wide. “So beautiful,” he murmured again, breath warm against your clit. You huffed out another quiet plea, thanking the gods when Hunt finally lolled his tongue out, licking a stripe up your core.

You sighed in relief, hands threading through his long black hair as Hunt groaned against you, sending vibrations straight to your core. Lips wrapped around your clit, sucking as his tongue flicked out against the bud. You felt the familiar coil tightening, faster than you’d ever been able to get yourself there, and you tugged on Hunt’s hair in warning as you threatened to come undone.

With a smirk against your clit, Hunt pulled you closer to him, doubling down his efforts as you came with a scream. He kept your hips pinned, unrelenting as he pushed a finger inside of you, still working your clit with his tongue. Legs shaking, you clumsily tried to push his head away, breathless pleas leaving your lips as the overstimulation had you seeing stars.

Hunt pushed another finger inside of you, a gentle stretch as he curled them against your walls, hitting the perfect spot over and over. Praises or curses - you didn’t know - were pouring from your lips as you felt your orgasm building again. You clenched around Hunt’s fingers, the angel taking that as a sign to make the move he’d been waiting for. Brown eyes locked on yours as he brought the tip of his tongue to your clit, a zap of lightning sending you over the edge again.

Your voice was hoarse from screaming his name as Hunt climbed back up your body, caging you in his arms. That cocky smirk had returned to his face, but you could only nod at him. “Okay, you made your point,” you breathed out, reaching up to brush Hunt’s hair behind his ear.

The smirk never left his face as the angel kneed your legs apart, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Earlier you were begging for me to hurry up and fuck you. Are you sure you can take it?”

You weren’t sure if you could, but your aching body was still desperate for more, as much of his touch as you could get. You nodded, moving to shove Hunt’s sweatpants down his hips. He groaned against your neck, “good girl,” pressing a kiss to the skin before shuffling his pants the rest of the way off.

Your eyes widened at the size of his cock, fresh arousal pooling in your core at the sight. “Hunt, I need you,” you whispered, looping your ankles around his waist to guide him closer.

“I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” Hunt murmured, looking in your eyes as he pushed into you. His head hung, resting in the crook of your shoulder, your own jaw dropping in a silent moan at the feeling of him filling you. After a moment, Hunt began thrusting at a brutal pace, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders as he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You were a moaning mess when Hunt flipped you over like a rag doll, pushing your face into the mattress as he took you from behind. He hit the perfect spot inside of you at this angle, eliciting loud moans as you clawed helplessly at the sheets. Hunt twitched inside of you, spilling his release as he brought his hands to your breasts, small shocks on your nipples shooting straight to your core as you spiraled into your third orgasm of the night.

You collapsed into the mattress, Hunt slowly pulling out and padding off towards the bathroom. He returned with a damp cloth, cleaning you up before pulling the covers over the both of you. The angel brushed your hair out of your face, his earlier smirk replaced with a genuine smile, brown eyes glittering in the dim light. “Thank you for letting me be the first man to make you finish.”

You smiled back at him, mischief dancing in your eyes. “I think I would be okay with doing that again.” Hunt laughed, pulling you into his chest as he pressed a kiss to your hair, the both of you eventually falling asleep in each others’ arms.

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thearchercore · 5 months

Note

Lando’s comments about not being bffs with max is for sure directly related to lestappen gate.

We’ve know since the summer that Charles is Ferrari’s priority to resign. (Remember we even thought it was going to be announced in the summer?) they’ve been working hard to make sure Charles feels positive about 2024 and comfortable in the 2024 car and feels like he can win a championship with Ferrari. And Charles was full steam ahead ready to renew.

It all changed in Singapore. Charles was shafted by Ferrari and Carlos was prioritized. Carlos prioritized Lando instead of his teammate - helping him stay in DRS even though he was a competitor. In the cool down room he said that what happened to Charles was “none of his business”. Charles raises all fucking hell and Ferrari sees they’re about to lose their il predestinato.

Suzuka happens next week. And then there’s a break before Qatar - and Charles goes back to the factory in Maranello. He’s there for a week, while Carlos is no where to be seen and never shows up. Charles has a sit down interview in Qatar where he talked about feeling positive for the future and the developments for next year's car and genuinely seemed excited for the new car.

This was all before the mess of the last few races, when we saw the real development of lestappen gate. And the possibility of Charles going after Red Bull, not feeling like he can win with Ferrari. And the emergence of lestappen as being friends. publicly at least, cause we all know they’ve been close for ages.

Ferrari gets desperate to keep Charles and will stop at nothing to retain him. Prioritizing his contact negotiations, giving him whatever he wants, making sure he knows he is the priority and they’ll do whatever they need. They hired Fred for him, and Fred is hiring and replacing like money is free to get a better team for Charles. And made it clear - the 2024 car will be suited to Charles and what he likes.

Now who isn’t the priority? Carlos. His contract negotiations have basically stopped because they don’t care about him right now. There’s constant talks about how it’s likely he won’t reach a deal and Ferrari already has a shortlist of who they will pursue and why they’d be a great fit, to the point Spanish media is taking these so seriously that they’re shading Ferrari. Even the Spanish GP was talking shit about Ferrari on Twitter.

Fred shades Carlos as the Vegas GP, saying Vegas was their best race of the season (even above their only team win). Fred shades Carlos again for his crash in practice in Abu Dhabi, saying that the Vegas pothole was bad luck but he said Carlos crashing in practice was “something else”.

And with Singapore and everything that followed after, we see Charles and Carlos move from friends to barely interacting except for required events and videos. Carlos sees clearly that he is 2nd to Charles and will be considered that way with everything going forward, and is not happy about that.

So that brings us back to: Max and Lando. Max respects Charles more than he does any other driver on the grid (hello he apologized to Charles in Vegas for turn 1?? When has he ever apologized for anything that happens on the track). Max is taking Charles’ side and even if he knows Charles is only using Red Bull to get a better Ferrari contract, he supports him cause he genuinely loves racing against Charles in a proper car. And besides the respect, they’re great friends.

Lando’s allegiance is obviously to Carlos. And he’s hearing all of it from Carlos and his being pissed. And I can fully see it coming up in convo with Max (after all Max and Carlos were teammates and friends once upon a time) and Max not fucking having it and standing on Charles’ side. And suddenly there’s the divide and Lando refuses to say they’re friends, because he’s so behind Carlos.

And it all just further enforces how powerful Lestappen is together.

solid points! my little own theory was that lando wants to go into 2024 with an internal goal to be THE rival to max (how realistic that is, that's another discussion) and so the friendship with max no longer benefits him.

when lando was up and coming driver, the clout that he got by hanging out with max benefitted him. he was seen partying with the world champion, got more publicity thanks to that etc. it was in general a very appealing friendship to be in for lando.

fast forward, mclaren built a car in the second half of 2023 that could fight max in certain scenarios (singapore comes to mind). however, lando did not manage to maximise the potential due to little driver errors that always cost him a better starting position.

it's 2024 now, ferrari and mercedes have great drivers but they are fully dependent on the state of their car and the team strategy. mclaren seemed to work out some of that already so mclaren goes into this season maybe more confident than they should be.

lando's friendship with max no longer benefits him, he will be now seen as a rival, not a friend. he could be fighting him on track, and so he probably wants to push his own agenda and distance himself from max. in this scenario, carlos is a safe option as any other friend on the grid (i assume tensions will rise between carlos and oscar as oscar will no longer be a rookie)

on the other end, charles is doing the exact opposite, he maximised potential of ferrari's car and also stopped following ferrari's pr guidelines. in vegas or abu dhabi, he hung out more with max than his own teammate. during the winter break he had only one scheduled appearance with another f1 driver on the grid, again, max.

charles publicly connecting himself with max does no good for ferrari's image and how they're pushing the "friendship" between carlos and charles. in that sense, charles is not hanging out publicly with max because it benefits him, quite the opposite.

he's doing it to manipulate the narrative and take over some control himself.

that's how i see the situation right now. it will be definitely interesting to see how these grid dynamics develop because yes, they are co-workers but also in the season where so many contracts expire, it's also a big powerplay so there's definitely a lot of decisions behind the scenes

#lestappen gate 2023 #charles leclerc #lestappen #formula 1 #f1 #max verstappen #lando norris

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redtsundere-writes · 4 months

Text

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mmafighter!sukuna ryomen x coach!reader

Part 2. The New Coach.

Beginning | Next →

Sypnosis: Sukuna Ryomen is a fighter with anger issues. Beating his ass once won't stop his shitty attitude. The training session is on. Contents: Jinx AU. Fighting. Cursed words. Sukuna is always angry. Itadori and Sukuna are brothers. Reader and Sukuna have top energy. Word Count: 2972 words. Author's Note: So I posted this in AO3 like two days ago, and I forgot to post it here lmao. Sowwy uwu

When Sukuna said he wanted to start immediately, he wasn’t joking. He ordered me to follow him to start right away. We returned to a gym full of confused fighters, witnessing the strongest fighter dragging his new coach by the arm. Nanami scolded him, telling him that he should be more careful around me, but Sukuna didn’t give a shit about it. He was really a tough one.

“You are not doing the sit-ups correctly. Don't bend your back,” I ordered as I watched Sukuna's posture like a vulture. His breath was shaking with each sit up, sweat was dripping from his forehead, and he was focusing on doing the exercise correctly. At the end of the day, he is a boxer, it is understandable that he doesn’t like leg workouts. He was visibly upset, but if he doesn’t want to be defeated by a floor fighter, he should start training and thinking like one.

The secret to becoming a great floor fighter is flexibility. Using your legs in your favor will always lead you to the good path. Being a floor fighter requires being intuitive, and sometimes, creative. Most fighters are often used to only using their upper body to defend themselves and use their legs just to move fast, Sukuna is one of those. I needed to change his mindset.

The sight of one of the fighters caught my attention. He must be one of the younger fighters in the gym. He was a thin, black haired boy with curious blue eyes. I didn't pay him any mind because maybe he was just a fan of Sukuna, and he was watching him and not me.

I ordered Sukuna to do stretching exercises. Trying to reach for your toes sitting down is something that sounds easy in theory, but it's pretty hard in practice. I saw him struggling to even reach them with the tip of his fingers. Sukuna groaned under his breath, trying to do the exercise right. His black tribal tattoos stretched, following the flow of his tender skin.

“I know you can do it,” I cheered behind him, pushing his sweaty back with my palms to make him reach further.

I felt around his back with my curious fingers to learn his anatomy. His shoulders were wide, his shoulder blades; sharp, and his back was super tensed. It was like I was feeling a giant brick wall. My hand traveled to his shoulders, being careful enough to not tickle him. I squeezed the curvature to inspect them.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He yelled at me, abandoning his posture to look at me. I slapped the back of his head.

“Look forward!” I yelled back. He squeezed his teeth to avoid saying something else, focusing again on the stretching exercise. “Can you just relax? You are tenser than a suspect of murder.” I said, pushing his shoulders downwards.

“Sukuna is always tense, it’s in his nature.” A woman behind me said. A brunette with deep eyes and clear skin, aside from her tired violet eye bags. “My name is Shoko Ieri, I’m his physiotherapist,” she introduced herself. I introduced myself as well. She looked like a very serious and observant person. Even though she didn’t have a friendly face, I could see that she took her job very seriously.

“Sukuna has a therapy session now,” she said. Sukuna sighed and stood up. Without seeing me or saying goodbye, he went to one of the healing rooms. I ground my teeth upon the lack of consideration, I had to remember myself who I was working with. Apparently today’s training was done.

“It looks like you will accept the job.” Nanami approached me while I was putting away my stuff in my bag. His face was more relaxed than in the morning.

“I've wanted the job since I entered,” I answered, unwrapping the bandages off my hands.

“Really? You didn’t look like it,” he said.

He was right. There was an explanation for it. Last night I researched everything I could about Sukuna. If his manager told me that he goes all out to get rid of his coaches, I need to go all out as well. I had to make sure Sukuna could see that he needed me so he could maintain his champion title.

“The key of a good coach is to make the trainee see the clear power difference. As a light heavyweight champion, Sukuna struggles to see that difference,” I explained with a wise voice. I knew what I was talking about from experiences. I was a woman in the middle of a male dominated world.

“You were planning to fight against him from the beginning?” He asked curiously. I just nodded. This was my only way to make him see and know what will be the result of his next fight if luck isn’t by his side.

Nanami led me to his office, so I could sign my job contract under the conditions we previously talked on the phone. I had fixed schedules, which allowed me to continue teaching jiu-jitsu lessons on the weekends. The pay was excellent and made me feel like I was in the UFC again. I was happy everything went according to plan, I just needed to continue having Sukuna under my wing.

Also, Nanami let me know that Sukuna had an upcoming fight in two months, so I had to be really strict with him so he could be ready. When I heard the name of his opponent, I knew I had to take things to the next level quickly.

“It’s so nice having some time away from that brat,” Gojo said as he stretched his arms while sitting on the office couch. “I was praying for this day to come.”

“What day?” I asked.

“The day somebody kicked his ass. His ego meter has gone through the roof. I didn’t know if I could handle him anymore,” he explained, visibly irritated.

“You don’t seem to be too fond of him,” I commented.

“Don’t get me wrong. Sukuna is great, an amazing fighter, but he is just too stubborn,” he said. I thought the same way. His technique, adaptability, and strength were obvious. Yeah, he was an asshole, but a very impressive asshole.

“How long have you been training him for?” I asked him, curious about how he got the job. Did he have to do something like I did?

“Sukuna and I went way back, I was his first coach. I met him when he was 12 years old.” I knew Sukuna was 26 so that meant he had been coaching that little shit for over 14 years.

Gojo must be a saint by this point. I bet Sukuna was one of those brats with too much energy and time on his hands. I could picture him bullying his classmates and running around the dojo while Gojo tried to give the lesson.

“He was always like this?”

“Nah, he was worse. His little brothers were the ones who got the nice genetics from his father.” Gojo pointed to the window to another pink-haired boy, he was with the black haired boy that caught my attention earlier. They were running on a treadmill while chatting. He had a bright smile and a friendly vibe. “A great kid. He works really hard, but Sukuna is on another level.”

Exiting the small sports office, I made my way to the elevator to go home, but the boy with black hair and Sukuna’s little brother caught my attention again. Now, they were discreetly looking at me, whispering things to each other. I needed to know what they were whispering about.

“Can I help you?” I asked them as I got closer to them. They looked at me with a spark of surprise in their eyes, as if I caught them in the act.

“Hey, my name is Yuuji and my friend, Megumi, wanted to ask you something,” the friendly pinky said while pushing his friend to step forward. Yuuji seemed to be someone genuine and friendly. On the other side, Megumi was reserved and poker-faced.

“Hi Megumi, what can I do for you?” I asked like he was a new student in my gym.

“I saw the fight today, you are very talented,” Megumi complimented me. I didn’t know if he was being genuine or not because his voice was monotone. “I was wondering if you could give me some fighting advice,” he asked. I checked the time since I wanted to go home, but it was pretty early. I was still in the mood for some training, plus these two can be a lot of help because they knew more about Sukuna than I did.

“I’ll do it if you buy me a sandwich later on,” I asked with a smile. They looked at each other in excitement before accepting.

Training Megumi felt completely different to training Sukuna. Sukuna was a fierce beast with a destroyer punch, while Megumi was a strategist with a quick wit. His posture was great, his punches were connecting well, and his moves were well thought. He was punching my gauntlets with precision, following my pattern of moves. It was evident he spent a lot of time training.

“You are doing it great,” I said while attacking him with the gauntlet so he could match my speed. “But this is mixed martial arts, not fake wrestling.”

My left gauntlet was supposed to move horizontally, signaling that he needed to dodge. Instead, I slapped him across the face and he dropped to the floor. Yuuji covered his face so as not to see his friend flop against the thin mattress under our feet. Megumi grunted, struggling to get up from the surprise attack.

“You are talented, kid. You just need to act more by instinct and not mind, do you get it?” I asked. Megumi nodded, getting back on his feet with grace. “Let’s go. One more time,” I prepared myself with the gauntlets.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Sukuna asked me angrily, standing outside the area we were practicing in. Apparently, his therapy was over.

“We are in the middle of something, don’t you see?” I asked, not paying him any mind. This wasn’t enough for him. He stomped closer to me and grabbed my wrists, trying to take my gauntlets away. I squirmed around to release from his tight grip. His hands were bigger than mine, so it was hard to get away. “What the fuck are you doing?!” I asked. I pushed him away from me with my elbow to keep distance.

“Who gave you the right to coach someone else?! You are my coach and only mine!” He yelled, catching the attention of the surrounding fighters. I scoffed as I took the gauntlets off, I wasn’t in the mood to train anymore. Megumi tried to defend me, but I stopped him.

“My contract stipulates that I can’t coach other active UFC members and fighters. Coaching Megumi doesn’t interfere with my contract,” I explained, keeping my cool.

“This is my fault, brother. It’s just a one time thing,” Yuuji said to Sukuna, trying to calm him down, but he was still throwing daggers at me.

“I don’t give a shit what your contract says. If I say you quit training this little shit, you stop!” He screamed once again.

“Megumi is a rookie and falls two weight classes under yours. He is not a threat,” I defended him.

“But he is the son of my next opponent, you stupid bitch,” he groaned.

This caught me by surprise. I looked at Megumi looking for answers, but I just needed to take a good look at him. The resemblance was so obvious, how I didn’t see it before? He was a compact version of Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna’s next opponent.

I have watched Toji’s fight live and on TV, and he was a real menace in the heavyweight weight class. He fights so naturally, fighting for him is as normalized in his body as walking. He always looked so calm and bored while fighting that it was scary.

“I only admitted him in the gym because he is Yuuji’s friend, so stop playing around and focus, or you’ll lose your job on your first day,” Sukuna threatened me.

“Fine,” I scoffed. Sukuna passed aside, pushing my shoulder to get back to his training. Yuuji followed him to keep trying to change his mind. I wanted to punch him so badly for the insult, but he knocked me out successfully. I humiliated him, and he humiliated me. We were even.

“I am so sorry, I should have told you before,” Megumi apologized.

“Don’t worry, I should have noticed before. You looked like your father,” Megumi’s face softened when he saw that I wasn’t mad at him.

“Everyone says that, do you know him?” He asked, taking his boxing gloves off.

“Not personally, I used to train in the gym he started training in,” I explained. “He is an excellent fighter, why don’t you train with him?” Megumi shook his head at the idea.

“He told me that if I wanted to ‘be better than him’, I should train away to get experience,” he explained. I could get behind that logic.

“Well, I hope my advice today will help you to achieve that goal faster.” Megumi thanked me and continued with his training alone.

A month passed by, and every training session with the champion was a challenge. Sukuna is not the type of person who likes to receive orders whatsoever, so I had to adjust my sentences every time I had to ask him to do something. For example, I have to say “Let’s do some pushups” instead of “Give me 50 pushups.” Sukuna is just a big brat waiting for a reason to throw a tantrum. I sometimes needed to remind myself why I was doing this in the first place.

“A good kick is not just about strength, it's about precision and speed. It’s about focusing on a target.” I told Sukuna, who was focused on my words. “Show me your best kick.” I asked him while patting the punching bag.

I stepped aside so he could have the room to himself. He breathed deeply and did a standard kick so powerful that it made the punching bag swing. It was quite impressive, and he was quite proud of himself. I applauded him for his execution.

“Did you like that?” He asked me with a smirk.

“Yeah, I do like it, but it was too slow. Anyone could dodge that with an arm block. You are better than that,” I said as I made him step aside from the zone. “I want a quick swipe.” I said before kicking the bag as fast as I could with perfect form. The bag barely moved, but it sounded way louder than Sukuna’s.

I heard someone clapping behind me and I thought it was Sukuna, but I was totally wrong. It was a tall man with long, raven black and deep, piercing eyes. I could tell from his clothing that he wasn’t a fighter or a coach. He was wearing a maroon turtleneck with black pants and nice boots with a cross body bag.

“That was a great kick,” he complimented me.

There was an aura of mystery around him, a sense of depth that beckoned to be explored. He was like a riddle wrapped in an enigma, his heart guarded by walls built from his complex past. Yet, there was an undeniable warmth there, a flame that could ignite with the right touch. He was so hot. That aura was ruined by Sukuna of course.

“What the fuck do you want, Choso? Can you see I am in the middle of training?” Sukuna scoffed at him. Choso’s aura completely changed from this cool, mysterious guy to a poker-faced boy who doesn’t want to deal with the king of the ring.

“Where’s Yuuji? He asked me to bring him his lunch,” he explained as he pulled out a well wrapped lunchbox.

“I don’t know. Maybe he is training, grabbing some water or fucking Megumi in the locker room, I don’t know.” Choso rolled his eyes and then looked at me.

“You must be his new coach. Yuuji told me about you,” Choso greeted me with a respectful bow, which I reciprocated.

“Oh, I see. Are you his friend?” I asked. Choso was about to answer, but then Yuuji came running up to him.

“Hey, bro! Thanks for bringing my lunch, I was starving.” He excitedly said with a bright smile as usual. Choso smiled back at him and then checked his watch.

“I should go back to work. It was nice finally meeting you,” Choso said goodbye and gave me a warm smile. After that, he quickly left the gym. Yuuji followed him on the way out. I followed them with my eyes until they got to the elevator.

“I hate when people just distract me from training,” Sukuna scoffed as he practiced the kick that I showed him.

“He was cute, who is he?” I asked him curiously. Sukuna smirked at me.

“You are joking, right?” He asked.

“Why would I be joking?”

“I am not man winging my brother with my coach, hell nah!” I gasped as soon as he said that.

“What? Your brother?” I asked in disbelief.

“He is the middle one. Yuuji and him are pretty close,” he said before replicating my kick almost perfectly. Sukuna was a complete asshole, but he is an incredible fast learner.

“You are not close to them too?” I asked him as I watched him prepare himself for another kick.

“They are just another distraction,” he stated before kicking the bag perfectly. He is so insufferable sometimes.

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feroluce · 3 days

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For some weird reason, I've always been fascinated by how wildly different Sampo operates in the Underground vs the Overworld.

Sampo is present in both places and even in official sources, he's not really counted as one side or the other- now that the theory has been confirmed in-game, he's generally just lumped in with the Masked Fools.

But there really is a big difference!

Probably the most obvious and well known instance of Sampo's...business practices *cough burglary and fraud COUGH* in the Overworld is from the Belobog Museum event. In it, you don't find out Sampo is the main culprit until near the end, because Pela has to set up a sting just to catch him in the act. And that sting is necessary all because the initial suspect they arrested, Norbert, had pretty much no idea of his partner's identity. Sampo wouldn't even speak to him face-to-face.

And whereas Sampo is normally very pleasant and friendly with the trailblazer...when he thinks he's talking to Norbert here, he straight up says that they are NOT friends. Like he really shuts that shit DOWN.

There's also an Overworld NPC, Chavez, who heads the "Dark Blue Scam Support Group." And he. Really really really does not like Sampo fjkdasjklfdj

Chavez clearly wants Sampo caught, and has literally no positive feelings about him. So. Why call it the Dark Blue Scam? Why not just out him by name? Chavez obviously doesn't give a single shit about Sampo's dignity or privacy. But he never once refers to him as "Sampo," and even the pamphlets he passes out make no mention of it. No one in the entire support group seems to know how to identify him or how to refer to him except by his hair color. If the trailblazer says his name, Chavez reacts as though he's never heard it before.

(I've seen people say this means Sampo Koski is an alias and not his real name? But Ray pointed this out, and honestly I agree; even the Fools call him Sampo, after all. I think it's just that Chavez never knew Sampo's name in the first place, and given his immense distrust, immediately assumes it's an alias.)

And then there's his characters stories, where he proceeds to pull off a heist in the Overworld while in disguise as Brughel Poisson the entire time. Literally his own stories don't mention Sampo's name even once.

So anyway, all this shows that when he's up in the Overworld working cons, Sampo is incredibly slippery and secretive about his identity. The only people who seem to know him are Pela, Serval, and Gepard. He doesn't get close to anyone else, and is even surprisingly unfriendly. Nobody knows his name. No one knows his face. He has zero qualms about backstabbing or double-crossing, and even plans for it in some cases.

Meanwhile, down in the Underground, I'm pretty sure literally the worst thing we hear of him doing is scalping tickets in front of the Fight Club. Which isn't even illegal in a lot of places (although it's certainly a dick move).

In Hook's companion quest, a vagrant miner steals Fersman's equipment and tries to sell it to Sampo. Even before the trailblazer and Hook jump in and out the vagrant as a thief, Sampo hesitates to buy it because it sounds like stolen goods, which he doesn't want any part of.

Even knowing that a geomarrow detector is rare and incredibly valuable in the mines, Sampo makes no attempt to double-cross Hook or profit off of her loss, and even tells her who to go to to get it fixed.

And my favorite example of Sampo in the Underground is the Survival Wisdom adventure mission. In it, Sampo starts up a business with Peak, another miner. And like. In wild contrast to all the cons he pulls above ground, Sampo is actually super nice and helpful here.

Just the same as with Hook's quest, Sampo talks to Peak face-to-face, with no disguises or barriers. When the trailblazer finds them, they're just in the Great Mine, no secretive meeting places. Peak knows Sampo, is familiar with him, and calls him by name. It's not even a con! There's nothing illegal going on; it really is just a business partnership. Peak is more than happy with their deal, he's even pretty enthusiastic about it, because thanks to Sampo he can now make enough money to get by while also accommodating his chronic fatigue.

The only person Sampo lies to in this whole ordeal is the trailblazer, who he manipulates into getting Peak's mining equipment back from the vagrants that stole it in the first place. And when it's done, he rewards them with a legit treasure map.

So when he's working in the Underground, Sampo is MUCH more upright and lawful. Part of this is probably to do with his "business" model- Sampo only takes advantage of the wealthy, and poverty runs rampant in the Underground. When he charges Peak an extra 30% (the same percentage he charges Norbert as a consultation fee in the museum heists- Sampo seems to go by percentage instead of a flat rate, which means his prices are more fair for lower incomes) for carelessly losing their supply, Peak literally starts counting out pocket change.

Dude's working for pennies and good will down there dknsmdmd

And you can twist this into a Robin Hood thing if you want- Sampo IS technically working to feed orphans and heal the sick. He says himself he's more than happy to make up the shortfall between the greedy and the marginalized- I mean he says it in the shadiest way possible, but I doubt the people benefiting from his work really care that he's a slimeball if it means they can survive another day. Even the two heists he pulls in his character stories are literally just him stealing absurd amounts of food.

Personally though I think it is solely because of Natasha, and Sampo is hilariously well-behaved specifically for her, because she keeps him on a short leash JSKZJMSMSKS

#honkai star rail #sampotasha #hsr natasha #sampo koski #hsr sampo #hsr #today's post is brought to you by the letter Y. for the Yaps fdklsajfkd #'for some weird reason' I say only to realize through writing this post that the reason I like it so much is because I think-#-Natasha having Sampo by the short hairs is funny dkxjmskskdmdm #so sampotasha if you want or Sampo & Natasha if you want either or #I love Sampo behaving just for her because she holds a LOT of power in the Underground and he knows she could destroy him if she wanted #she could blacklist his business and run him out of Boulder Town if she really thought she needed to #Natasha exiled her own brother who eventually died in the cold because he was running unethical medical experiments on unknowing civilians #and granted what Sampo does is nowhere NEAR as bad as that but she also probably does not have nearly as much mercy for him dkdjdmkskd #I'd like to think they hold a decent amount of camaraderie for each other though. and maybe even some affection.#they work together like all the time after all. sampo is in the clinic with natasha so much that hook thought he was really sick.#and for as much as he relies on her for business she also relies on him for resources.#it's not really an exaggeration to say a LOT more people would be dead without Sampo constantly smuggling goods across the border.#maybe I should just make a post about their relationship sometime because I do very much love it skzjkskdk

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