Ice Water

ice water

oscar piastri x duck shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.2k

warnings: a singular curse word- other that that, none

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: mclaren hospitality somehow runs out of cold water; you have to get creative.

picture credits from pintrest :)

the weather at the miami circuit was, simply, hot as fuck. as soon as you climbed out of the oscar’s mclaren, clutching your miu miu handbag, you felt a wave of hot and humid florida air wash over you. oscar, ever the gentleman, clocks your discomfort immediately and leads you toward the paddock entrance. keeping one hand on your back protectively, he scans his badge and guides you towards mclaren hospitality.

being able to shapeshift into a duck at will definitely had its perks, but that also meant you gained some of the more negative aspects too. because ducks didn’t have sweat glands, you overheated really easily in extreme heat. 

“oscar!!” “over here!” “please sign my hat!!!”

before you and oscar could reach the motorhome, a crowd of fans spotted the mclaren driver. they surge forward, pens at the ready and cameras turned on. he turns, apologies at the tip of his tongue and mind running fast to think of a quick excuse so he doesn’t need to stay outside a second longer. before he can say anything, you turn to him.

“its okay baby, you can sign their hats and do whatever you need to- i can find some water by myself!" you smile at him reassuringly, then give him a peck on the cheek. those fans probably paid an insane amount of money in order to access the paddock, and it wasn’t every day you saw the insanely talented mclaren driver, oscar piastri, strolling around. to be honest, it still shocked you sometimes, having the privilege to wake up to his adorable sleepy face in the morning. (even though he does get mad at you for leaving your feathers everywhere on the bed)

“alright.” oscar says hesitantly. he then smiles that polite cat smile that he always does, wraps his arms around you, and gives you a kiss on the top of your head. “don’t get lost!” he quips, before he reaches toward a fan’s open sharpie. 

you roll your eyes and head into the team motorhome. 

as you step inside, you immediately bump violently into lando. its actually a wonder that you didn’t notice him, as he is dressed in his bright papaya hoodie and obnoxiously neon yellow bucket hat with his signature black patterns. he looks irritated, although his annoyed look immediately disappears once he notices it’s you. 

“oops- sorry,” you splutter out, “you okay?” 

“yeah i’m fine,” he says, flashing you a smile. the annoyed expression comes back though, and he adds, “except for the fact that its fucking 40 degrees celcius outside and there is not a single drop of cold water in this entire building!” 

“oh!” you exclaim. “that’s actually why i came in here- i really need water because of my…condition.” lando was one of the few people that actually knew of your ability to shapeshift (it involved a long story involving an animal trafficking accusation, bad timing, and a ton of feathers that you had shed), and he often helped cover for you and oscar when people got a little too close to discovering your secret.

a frown crosses lando’s face, but it is soon replaced by a devilish smirk. “why don’t we go over to the red bull motorhome to ask for some water?” he suggests.

“dressed like this?” you exclaim, gesturing at both your orange colored two-piece dress and lando’s brightly colored outfit. “mark my words, if you take a single step in that direction, skysports is going to notice, and is going to have ‘mclaren driver lando norris sneaks into red bull motorhome to steal important strategy documents’ pasted on every headline online!”

“umm…first of all,” lando says haughtily, “i can win a race by myself without needing to steal any red bull documents. second of all, i’m not going into redbull, you are…” he leans forward, and whispers, “...in duck form.”

you glare at him.

as if sensing a problem, oscar appears behind you. “what’s going on?” he questions, running a hand through his hair and wipes a little bit of sweat off of his reddened face. he turns to you for a response, but you’ve slotted yourself behind his back, using him as a barrier from lando. 

“your dumb teammate wants me to turn so i can go over to redbull and beg for water since mclaren ran out of ice water!” you exclaim. "can you believe it?"

20 dollars, persistent begging, and ten minutes later, you left the mclaren motorhome in duck form in oscar’s arms. the fans from earlier, with their newly signed merch and camera roll full of pictures of your boyfriend, again, rush towards oscar. instead of their attention being on him this time though, they all fawn over you, not even asking why in the world oscar jack piastri is holding a duck in front of the mclaren motorhome before the miami gp. you ruffle your feathers and snap your beak at the fans, playing it up and hoping they give you water. you stop to pant a little bit- the heat was really getting to you. luckily, a fan notices, and pushes forward with a cup of ice water.

“oscar, may i give your duck some ice water? i’ve seen clips on tiktok where this lady feeds her duck ice water and she seemed to really like it! your duck is looking mighty parched too.” 

oscar quickly nods his head. “go ahead!”

you dip your beak into the water, and snap up as much water as you could. the water tasted crisp and refreshing, and felt oh-so-good going down your throat, cooling down your internal body temperature. 

oscar thanks the fan, then excuses himself from the horde of people. “erm…i’m kind of have to go-” he gestures vaguely towards the redbull motorhome, “ that way… so er yeah, bye!” 

you got your sip of water, so it was time to steal get some for oscar and lando. you hop out of oscar’s arms, flapping your wings as you land gently on the ground. waddling, you enter the redbull hospitality. Immediately, you almost collide a second time with someone. lo and behold, it was none other than checo perez.

“why,” he says pointedly, “is there a duck in here?” 

not stopping to apologize, you run towards the fridge, quacking wildly and tapping your beak against the smooth metal. 

as if he understood you perfectly, he opens the door to the fridge, and pulls out a water bottle. he poors the water into a plastic cup and puts it on the floor in front of you. he gives you a few pats on your back (oscar probably would have strangled checo if he saw him touching you, albeit in duck form) and walks away. quickly, you grab the cup and hop/waddle your way back outside to oscar and lando, handing them the water.

the team garages bustled with energy, as there was around an hour left until the start of the miami grand prix. everyone seemed to have a job- adjusting cameras, typing on computers, and pulling on race suits- except you. slowly, you walk out of the mclaren garage onto the pavement  in front, straightening your orange skirt and top and smoothing down your hair. out of the corner of your eye, you see checo heading your way. you turn a little pale from fear- why was he coming your way? he waves to you, and starts some small talk. 

“hey you know, funny story- you’ll never believe me, but there was a duck in the red bull motorhome earlier today!”

a/n: my first ever fanfic story! i hope y'all liked it :)

Some screengrabs from the Unknown/ Nth video. Because I can't get enough of it. His hair is a paid actor. And golden hour is just his hour.

I would fold in seconds.

Some of my ex boyfriend Eddie headcanons:

18+ hoes

Ex boyfriend Eddie who purposely leaves his t shirt behind after your ‘hate fucks’ because he knows how much you love them. As soon as he leaves you’ll slip into it, his smell enveloping you, the familiar scent comforting you until you drift off to sleep.

Ex boyfriend Eddie who still randomly leaves flowers on your doorstep. Something he’s done for years now. Never a real bouquet. Random wildflowers he saw that just ‘reminded him of his wild girl’.

Ex boyfriend Eddie who gets so insanely jealous he can’t see straight when he sees you at a party even speaking to another guy. (More than a few fights have ensued, all of them ending with Eddie destroying you in the back of his van, sweaty and bloody).

Ex boyfriend Eddie who continues to call you every pet name in the book. You always act like it annoys you but he knows how much you love it.

Ex boyfriend Eddie who gets drunk and is either ridiculously horny, sending you the most risqué texts or like a sad puppy begging for your attention.

Ex boyfriend Eddie who still slips up saying he loves you almost every single time he’s near you.

Ex boyfriend Eddie who starts a fight with you because he knows how much it turns you on.

Ex boyfriend Eddie who still takes care of things for you. You wake up to see him outside, changing your oil, covered in grease and sweat.

Ex boyfriend Eddie who fucks you like no one else and knows it. He’s a cocky shit as he’s balls deep and you’re clawing at his back, screaming his name and only his name.

Ex boyfriend Eddie who still defends your name to every person who has something bad to say about his girl. ‘Not your girl, Eds.’ ‘Whatever you say, sweetheart.’ As he kisses your forehead gently, wiping away the tears caused by some asshole.

More ex boyfriend Eddie here

I have got SO many good pics saved, this is my time to shine! XD I feel like this could be 50/50 a meet-cute, or a meet-sexy, if you catch my drift

Hey! It has taken a moment, but it's done. I hope you don't mind I chose a different hairstyle.

warnings: language, possibly; drinking, no mentions of alcohol though; kissing; insinuation to future sexy times

This was not a normal Friday night. Far from it. All the stress of the week had vanished once you had walked through that door, probably blown away by the music which was on fire tonight. Around you, the smell of old wood and beer and bodies filled the pub. This was usually not too exciting, but above it all there was something else about tonight, something you could not quite grasp. Maybe to call it the thrill of excitement came closest to what it actually was, a feeling as if anything were possible. 

And yet it was not until halfway through the night before it finally seemed to make do on what it had promised all along. You had just taken another sip of your drink, still laughing about one of your friend’s stupid jokes, when you felt his eyes on you for the first time. You turned on instinct, just in time to catch him glancing over at you before he suddenly looked away. You could not help but smile about the slight panic that must have caused his move. Fortunately, it provided you with the opportunity now to take a good, long look at him—which turned out a little more challenging than you would have expected. 

Actually, you did not know where to look first. Maybe at his hair, those long, soft curls. He had pulled half of them up, but a few stubborn strands still refused to stay back and kept falling into his face no matter how often his long, slender fingers tried to tug them behind his ears. There were also the features of his face that competed for your attention. The prominent, thick brows for example, sitting above a pair of dark eyes. Sadly their colour was impossible to make out in the dim light. Or his beard, mh, his beard. You were such a sucker for long haired, bearded man and he just seemed to have it all. 

Luckily for you, your sight must have been just as tempting for him, as soon enough he let his eyes wander back to you. And now, he allowed you even enough time for a smile, and when he smiled back, his eyes still holding yours, you could feel your heart doing a double flip in your chest. 

The music was still booming, yet all you realised was the rolling of the bass in your stomach, everything else, the chatter, the clinking of glasses, the shuffling of feet on the ground, it was all silenced for a moment, overlaid by the feverish drum of your heartbeat. Even your mouth felt dry all of a sudden, but as you lifted your glass to your lips all that reached them were a few measly drops of liquid.

Good, you thought, it would provide you with an excuse to get closer to him. He sat next to the wall right opposite the counter, and as if fate had decided for you to make a move, there was a free spot at the bar close by. As you walked it was as if you were drawn to him, gravitating towards his chair, just to pass him by last minute. It were only a few steps to the counter now, but the weight of his stare was unmistakable, it followed you, all the way. Just as he had done, you realised after placing your order. He was just there, smiling, but that was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. Jesus, he was tall. The kind of tall where you had to crane your neck to look into his eyes. 

“Can I buy that drink for you?”

“No, thanks, I’m good,” you said, already pushing some money across the counter top in exchange for your drink. You immediately took a sip, enjoying the confused look on his face just a moment longer. He was obviously still unsure about what had just happened, or whether he should leave. But obviously there was no way you would let that happen.

“But you could tell me your name instead.”

Immediately the brightest smile curled his lips, although his eyes were very busy watching his feet all of a sudden. Was he flustered? God, this man was so cute.

“I’m Andrew.”

How could a voice be this soft? You wanted to melt on the spot. But instead you held out your hand to him.

“Hi Andrew, nice to meet you. I’m Y/N,” you said as if you were totally unfazed, and it was almost no surprise at all that his hand was just as soft. 

From this moment on, it was easy. Almost too easy to be real. But you did not care. You had not felt this alive in a very long time. The giddiness that had befallen you was unreal. How could simply talking to someone else make you this ridiculously happy?

“Do you want to dance?”

The question came out of the blue for you, and you needed to follow his glance to understand what was going on. Over where you had stood before, your friends had somehow decided it was time to shake a leg. And with him, yes, you would have loved to join them. But something told you he was not asking you to dance with him, but whether you wanted to rejoin your friends. Those gangly limbs of his did probably not make him the most passionate dancer. 

“Another time perhaps. Right now, I am very happy exactly where I am.”

He smiled, his eyes pulling you in, and it would have taken supernatural abilities to keep track of time after that. You must have been talking and laughing for hours, until the pub was about to close. Your friends had been long gone, and so were his. 

And so you found yourself side by side, walking down the deserted streets at night. He had asked to walk you home, and this time you had not declined his offer. He was walking close to you, so close that the back of your hand had touched his a few times, always drawing his eyes to you instantly. But soon you had mercy, on him as much as on yourself. And so you allowed your finger to make contact first, letting your pinky gently glide along his, and he understood. His hand was warm, his grip just right, and as his thumb tenderly caressed yours, you knew it would be the hardest thing you had ever done to let go once the two of you had said your goodbyes.

You wished it would never have to end, but you were inevitably nearing your home. You had taken the scenic route already, stalling, being stingy with the moments you had left with him, and now there was just no way you could put this off any longer. 

“This is me then,” you said, as you came to a stop.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the building behind you and you had no idea why until he spoke again.

“Are you sure? We could take a turn around the block just to make sure.”

His silliness made you chuckle. 

“I’m afraid I am quite certain this is where I live.”

“Shame.”

It was, you thought, as your eyes fell to the ground. 

“Andy?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

His answer came promptly, accompanied by a squeeze of your hand. “Please do.”

You had feared it would be awkward, asking that question, then reaching for him. But it was not. Not in the least. And when his lips touched yours for the first time, his taste rolling over your tongue, his breath mingling with yours, you were certain you would never want for anything again in your life. 

You were wrong though. You still needed air. As did he. And so you pulled away, hesitant, refusing to let go entirely as you leant your forehead against his. 

Andrew was the first to find his voice again. “Can we maybe do this again tomorrow?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Now it was him who chuckled, and he kept on smiling as you pulled out your phone and gave it to him so he could type in his number.

Then he leant down again for another—this time much too chaste for your taste—kiss.

“Night, love.”

“Night, Andy.”

He had taken a step back, your hands still entwined, tying you securely together. But then he took another and his fingers slowly slipped from your grasp. He smiled again, lips tightly pressed together, and right before he turned, he winked. A gesture so sinful it set you on fire despite the cold of the night air that surrounded you. 

You watched him walk, all the way down the street. He would soon reach his turn, when the chime of his phone cut through the silence. A text alert. Pulling the phone from his pocket without stopping, his feet instantly refused to walk as the display lit up. 

He had not noticed, but he must have started to smile, so much so his cheeks were beginning to hurt. He had never turned faster in his life.

Put this man in a boxing ring, please. He can and will fight (he's not making it out alive).

Also, video credits to @lostinahaze_ on TikTok.