#tangled up with you all night social media

[harrysfolklore]

still a little bitch - cs55

summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz don’t hate each other anymore, but she still calls him a little bitch. PART ONE word count: 9.1k + social media posts

folkie radio: HERE IT IS !!!! THE LONG AWAITED PART TWO OF LITTLE BITCH!!! i’m going to be completely honest with you i’m beyond terrified of posting this. little bitch was overwhelmingly liked by all of you and i’m scared this won’t live up to it 😭 but i really really hope you like it. i’m not a fan of doing part two���s of fics but this one deserves it <33 buckle up for a ride or angst, some tears and a lot of little bitch calling. LOVE YOU ALL

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

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ynpiastri highlight of imola: LEO LECLERC

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

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username1 OMG LEO IS SO CUTE

username2 MISS THE SECOND PICTURE ???

username3 PIASTRI SIS HAS A BF?? OMG

alexandrasaintmleux My boy 😍😍

username4 what is carlos doing in the likes i thought they hated each other 😭

username5 HOW DOES OSCAR FEEL ABOUT HER BF I NEED TO KNOW

username6 not tagging the person in the second pic she’s such a piastri

landonorris You’re not slick at all my friend

↳ ynpiastri i literally never asked for your opinion

↳ username1 HEEELP

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If someone had told you a year ago that you would be making out with Carlos Sainz in his driver's room hours before the Monaco Grand Prix, you would've laughed in their faces and told them they were completely out of their mind.

Because why would you ever think of even breathing near the little bitch, right?

And yet, there you were. Your bodies pressed together as his lips explored your neck.

"Carlos," you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair, "we shouldn't... someone could come in..."

He lifted his head, his brown eyes gleaming with desire. "Do you want me to stop, hermosa?"

"No," you admitted, "I don't want you to stop."

A satisfied smile played on his lips before he pressed them against yours again. His hands caressed your hips, pulling you even closer.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he whispered against your lips.

You couldn't help but smile. "The feeling's mutual, you little bitch."

He chuckled softly before speaking, "And to think that you hated me."

"I still do," you replied, but your tone lacked conviction. "It's just… I hate you a little less when you do that."

His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, making you shiver.

"Oh yeah?" he murmured, his hot breath against your skin. "And this?"

You let out a small moan, your nails digging slightly into his shoulders. "Maybe I hate you even less now."

He laughed softly, his hands sliding under your t-shirt. "You definitely don't hate me."

Almost a month had passed since that night in Carlos' car, and things between you two were amazing. You hadn't put a label on what you were yet, but you felt happier than ever.

You found yourselves seeking each other out more and more. But it wasn't just about the physical attraction or the tension of your bickering anymore. You discovered a side of Carlos you'd never seen before – his warmth, his humor, his vulnerability.

And you finally let your guard down and let him see that part of you, too.

The sarcastic remarks and playful insults were still there, but now they were tinged with affection rather than malice. Your friends had started to notice the change in your dynamic, especially Lando, who couldn't quite hide his knowing smirk whenever he saw you two together.

However, you decided to play it cool, not letting your friends know that there was something more between you and Carlos. They might be able to tell by now, but you still didn't want to admit it to them.

Which lead to secret rendezvous in hidden corners of the paddock become frequent occurrences. Like right now.

"As much as I'm enjoying this," you said as his lips still lingered on your neck and his hands roamed underneath your shirt, "I should go, someone's probably coming to get you shortly."

Carlos let out a soft groan of but nodded, slowly pulling away from you.

"You're right," he admitted, his hands reluctantly leaving your skin. "I wish we could stay like this, though. "

"I know," you smiled, reaching up to smooth his tousled hair. "But we can't risk getting caught, especially not today."

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Tonight, then? After the race?"

"Assuming you don't crash into a wall, sure," you teased.

"Such faith in me," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll show you, hermosa. Watch me on that podium."

You were about to retort when a sharp knock on the door made you both freeze.

"Carlos? Five minutes until the briefing," came a voice from outside.

"Coming!" Carlos called back, "Looks like our time's up."

"I'll sneak out after you. Good luck out there, little bitch," you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Gracias, mi amor," he murmured, the endearment slipping out naturally.

You paused for a moment, surprised by the warm feeling that spread through your chest at his words. But there was no time to dwell on it. With a final kiss on your lips, he was out of the room.

Your heart was pounding as you tried to casually make your way out of Carlos' room. You were so focused on appearing nonchalant that you almost walked right into Charles.

"YN?" he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise and a knowing smirk slowly spreading across his face. "What are you doing here?"

You felt your cheeks flush as you scrambled for an explanation. "Oh, Charles! Hi! I was just… uh… coming to wish you good luck on the race."

"In Carlos' room?" his smirk widened.

Your heart sank. Of course he'd noticed where you'd come from. You tried to keep your voice steady as you replied, "No, no… I just got a bit turned around. All these corridors look the same, you know?"

"Uh-huh," Charles said, clearly not buying it for a second. "Well, thanks for the good luck wishes. Though I'm not sure how sincere they are if you're sneaking out of my teammate's room."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the knowing look in Charles' eyes made you realize it was pointless. He'd figured it out.

You were surprised Alex haven't told him already, anyway.

"Relax, YN. Your secret's safe with me," he said with a wink. "Though you might want to fix your hair before you see your brother. It's a bit… disheveled."

You groaned, quickly running your fingers through your hair as Charles walked away, still chuckling. You tried to make the flush on your cheeks go away as you reached McLaren hospitality.

Carlos Sainz was driving you crazy in the best possible way.

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ynpiastri LECLERCCCCCC FINALLY WON AND PERFECT PODIUM TYSM MONACO 😩😩😭

tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lilyzneimer

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username1 I NEVER SAID ANYTHING BAD ABOUT THE MONACO GP

username2 her friendship with charles is so underrated love them

landonorris I wish my best friend celebrated my podiums like that

↳ ynpiastri i wish my best friend got more podiums to celebrate

↳ username1 HELPPP 😭

username3 UM HELLO??? posted sainz, TAGGED HIM, said it’s a perfect podium and she’s not coming for his neck for the touch with oscar on track that made the race re start ????? WHAT IS GOING ON

↳ username2 OH I SEE

charles_leclerc Thank you for coming to Ferrari just to wish me good luck and not anything else, that was definitely what made me win 😉

↳ ynpiastri stfu

↳ alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂😂😂

↳ oscarpiastri I’m really confused right now

carlossainz55 ❤️

↳ username1 BITCH WTF

↳ username2 ENEMIES TO LOVERS ???

TWITTER

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The party at Jimmy'z was in full swing, the air electric with the excitement of Charles' Grand Prix victory. The club was packed with F1 drivers, team personnel, and celebrities, all riding the high of the race day adrenaline.

You stood near the bar, your fourth glass of champagne in hand, feeling pleasantly buzzed. The room spun slightly as you looked around, your gaze inevitably drawn to Carlos. He was across the room, laughing with Pierre and Charles, but his eyes kept finding you in the crowd.

Every time your eyes met, you felt a jolt of electricity. The memory of his touch from earlier in the day lingered on your skin, making you crave more. You watched as he excused himself from his conversation and made his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with effortless grace.

"Enjoying the party, hermosa?" he asked, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close.

You shivered at his proximity, the scent of his cologne making your head spin even more. "It's alright," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Could be better though."

Carlos's eyes darkened at your words. He glanced around quickly before leaning in even closer, his lips barely brushing your ear. "Meet me outside in five minutes."

Before you could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd. Your heart raced as you waited, trying not to watch the clock too obviously. When five minutes had passed, you made your way outside, your steps slightly unsteady.

The cool night air was a relief after the stuffy club. You spotted Carlos in one of the alleyways behind Jimmy'z. He turned as you approached, a smile spreading across his face.

"Remember the last time we were here?" he asked, pulling you close.

You giggled, the alcohol making you bold. "Yeah, when you kissed me unprovoked."

"Unprovoked?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, his hands settling on your waist. "I was being provoked by how insanely gorgeous you looked. Still do, by the way," he leaned even closer. "And if I recall correctly, you enjoyed it a lot."

"Maybe I did," you giggled, drunkenness clear in your every move. "Should we do it again?"

Without overthinking, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a bold, impulsive kiss. It was tentative at first, testing the waters, but then you felt Carlos smile against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

As the kiss intensified, you felt Carlos's hands slide from your waist to your lower back, pressing you even closer against him. The heat of his body contrasted with the cool night air, sending shivers down your spine. Your own hands moved up to tangle in his hair, earning a low groan from him that you felt more than heard.

Breaking apart for air, Carlos rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in quick pants. "I'm crazy about you, Piastri," he murmured before leaning in for another kiss.

You were so lost in the moment that you didn't hear the footsteps of someone approaching.

"You freaking muppets! I knew it!"

You broke apart, startled, to see Lando standing there, a triumphant grin on his face.

"Lando!" you whined, burying your face in Carlos's chest. "Leave us alone!"

Carlos chuckled, his arms still around you. "How long have you known, cabron?"

"Please, you two are about as subtle as a neon sign," Lando smirked, crossing his arms. "Oh, this is too good. You two are so busted."

"Lando, please," Carlos started, but you cut him off.

"Go away, Lando!" you whined, clinging to Carlos. "We're busy."

Lando laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you lovebirds alone. But we're definitely talking about this later!"

As Lando walked away, you turned back to Carlos, wrapping your arms around his neck, suddenly feeling very tired and more than a little drunk. "Take me home?" you asked, your words slurring slightly.

"Of course, mi amor," Carlos nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll drive you to Oscar's."

"Nooo," you whined, clinging to him. "I want to stay with you tonight. Please?"

Carlos hesitated for a moment, clearly torn. "YN, you're pretty drunk. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

You nodded vigorously, then immediately regretted it as the world spun. "I'm sure. I just want to be with you. Please?"

"Alright, alright, you win. Let’s get you back to my place," he said gently, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

You beamed at him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, little bitch."

The night might have been a blur, but one thing was crystal clear—you were falling hard for Carlos Sainz, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

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ynpiastri have you guys ever tried hangover pancakes ?

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username1 OMG???

username2 SHE DOES HAVE A BF

lilyzneimer 👀👀👀

username3 BITCH THATS CARLOS SAINZ

↳ username1 nah there’s no way, they hate each other

charles_leclerc I did before you did

↳ ynpiastri don’t be jealous charlie 😚

landonorris BUSTED BUSTED

↳ ynpiastri bro get over it

↳ landonorris never

↳ username1 LET ME INNNNN

username4 people saying this is carlos sainz, do you guys not know their history or something

↳ username5 yeah but enemies to lovers is a real thing

oscarpiastri 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

↳ ynpiastri ily can you pick me up?

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You could practically hear your friend's and brother's laugh through the phone as you muted the conversation. Shaking your head, you grabbed your jacket and headed out to meet Carlos.

He was waiting for you outside, leaning against a lamppost with casual smile. The sight of him - dressed in jeans and a simple t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled by the breeze - made your heart skip a beat.

"There you are," he said, his face lighting up as you approached. "Ready to go?"

Without thinking twice about it, you wrapped your arms his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss, taking him by surprise. Carlos' eyes widened but he quickly melted into it, his arms wrapping around your waist. When you finally pulled away, he was looking at you with a mix of delight and wonder.

"Well," he said, a bit breathlessly, "that's quite a hello. What was that for?"

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the blush creeping up your cheeks. "Do I need a reason to kiss you?"

"No, hermosa," he said, pulling you closer. "You never need a reason. You're allowed to kiss me whenever you want."

With a playful glint in your eye. You pulled him in and kissed him again.

God you were down bad, it's embarrassing.

"Dios mio," he murmured as you pulled away, "I could get used to this."

You laughed, linking your arm with his as you started walking. "Don't get too comfortable, little bitch. I still have a reputation to maintain."

Carlos chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Of course, Piastri. Whatever you say."

As you strolled through the streets of Montreal, you found yourself initiating more little touches - a squeeze of his hand, a kiss on the cheek, leaning into him as you walked. Each time, you noticed how Carlos's face would light up, how he'd pull you a little closer.

It occurred to you that maybe he'd been holding back, worried about pushing you too far or too fast.

For the past month, you'd been letting your guard down, bit by bit. Carlos had somehow managed to sneak past your defenses with his charm and the warmth that had been hidden beneath all that banter. You'd always prided yourself on being independent, on not letting anyone get too close. But with Carlos, things felt different, at least now they did.

Still, there were moments when doubt crept in, when old insecurities bubbled to the surface. What if this was all just a fling for him? What if you were reading too much into the way he looked at you, the way he seemed to treasure every kiss and touch? What if you eventually went back to your bitterness towards each other?

You hadn't put a label on whatever this was between you, and the ambiguity sometimes left you feeling unsteady, as if you were walking on a tightrope without a safety net.

But bringing it up to him felt intimidating.

"Whats on your mind?" Carlos asked once he noticed that you went quiet and your eyes were wandering.

You considered bringing up the subject, but decided to ignore the thought for now.

"Nothing," you replied with a small smile, squeezing his hand. "Just thinking about how Lando is going to have our heads for not wanting to hang out with him."

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. "Lando will survive. He can’t have us all to himself all the time."

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As the Spanish Grand Prix weekend approached, you found yourself in Barcelona, exploring the city with Carlos in a way you never imagined possible.

The man who once irritated you beyond belief was now showing you his childhood spots, sharing stories of his youth with a boyish enthusiasm that made your heart flutter.

When you told Oscar about your plans to head to Barcelona early with Carlos, you braced yourself for the teasing that was sure to follow.

Your brother didn't disappoint, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he launched into a series of jokes about you "fraternizing with the enemy" and how you'd "finally succumbed to Sainz's charms." But beneath the banter, you could see the genuine happiness in Oscar's eyes.

After the laughter died down, he pulled you into a hug and told you he was glad you'd found someone who made you happy, even if it was "that Spanish menace."

He was the best brother you could've asked for.

"And this," Carlos said, gesturing to a small, unassuming restaurant tucked away in a narrow street, "is where you'll find the best paella in all of Barcelona. Maybe even in all of Spain."

"That's a bold claim, Sainz," you raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You better not be overselling it."

"Would I ever lie to you, Piastri?"

"Yes, absolutely," you retorted, but there was no bite to your words.

As you sat down to eat, the aroma of saffron and seafood filled the air. Carlos watched expectantly as you took your first bite, and you couldn't help but close your eyes in delight at the flavors.

"Okay, I'll admit it," you said, opening your eyes to see his triumphant smile. "This might actually be the best paella I've ever had."

"I told you!" he exclaimed, looking far too pleased with himself. "Never doubt a Spaniard when it comes to paella."

"Alright, you win this round," you rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.

As you continued to enjoy the meal, a comfortable silence settled between you and Carlos. It was in these quiet moments that you found yourself marveling at how far you'd come - from barely tolerating each other to... whatever this was now.

"You know, I've been thinking," Carlos broke the silence, his voice softer than usual, "We've talked a lot about my childhood here in Spain, but I realize I don't know much about your early years in Australia."

You looked up from your plate, a bit surprised by the sudden change in topic. "Oh, well, what do you want to know?"

Carlos leaned forward, his elbows on the table, genuine curiosity in his warm brown eyes. "Everything. What was it like growing up there? What did little YN enjoy back then?”

You paused for a moment, caught off guard by Carlos's question. Your mind immediately went to your childhood memories with Oscar, and you found yourself launching into a familiar narrative.

"Well, growing up in Australia was quite an adventure, especially with Oscar around," you began, a fond smile playing on your lips, “Oscar's always been obsessed with anything that has wheels. Even as a toddler, he'd zoom around the house with his toy cars, making engine noises..."

As you launched into the story of Oscar's journey from go-karts to Formula 1, you found yourself getting carried away with the memories. You talked about the early morning drives to races, the smell of petrol and rubber that became a constant in your life, the way your parents juggled work and Oscar's growing career.

"...and then there was this one time, Oscar was about 14, and he'd just won a major championship. The interviewer asked him who his biggest inspiration was, and do you know what he said?" You paused, smiling at the memory.

Carlos shook his head, completely engrossed in your story.

"He said it was me. Can you believe that? His older sister who couldn't tell a thing about cars. I think I cried for an hour after that interview."

As you finished your tale, you noticed Carlos watching you with an unreadable expression. "What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Carlos smiled softly, reaching across the table to take your hand.

"Hermosa," he said gently, "I asked about your childhood, and you've told me all about Oscar's racing career."

You blinked, realizing he was right. "Oh, I... I guess I got carried away. Sorry about that."

"No, no," Carlos squeezed your hand reassuringly. "I love hearing about Oscar, truly. But I want to know about you. What did you like growing up? What were your passions, your dreams?"

You blinked, suddenly realizing that you had automatically steered the conversation towards Oscar, as you had done countless times before when asked about your childhood. The fact that Carlos had redirected the focus back to you left you momentarily speechless.

"I... wow," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before."

"Really? But surely people must have been interested in your childhood too?"

You shrugged, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. "Not really. I mean, Oscar was always the star, you know? My pride and joy, the racing prodigy. People were always more interested in his story."

Carlos squeezed your hand gently. "Well, I'm interested in your story. Tell me about little YN Piastri, not just Oscar's sister."

You took a deep breath, feeling a lot of emotions you couldn't quite name. Carlos's genuine interest in your personal story touched something deep within you, a part of yourself you'd almost forgotten existed.

"Actually," you began, your voice soft as you delved into long-buried memories, "I was always drawn to art. Not just painting or drawing, but all forms of visual expression. I remember spending hours in our backyard, arranging leaves and flowers into patterns, or using chalk to create massive, colorful murals on our driveway."

"That sounds beautiful. Did you take classes?" Carlos leaned in, his eyes bright with interest.

"Not really. I wasn't great in school, to be honest. Sitting still, focusing on textbooks - it just wasn't my strong suit. But give me a blank canvas or a lump of clay, and I could lose myself for hours."

"So why didn't you pursue it?" Carlos asked gently.

You paused, considering Carlos's question. It was something you'd never really articulated before, even to yourself.

"I guess... I never saw it as something to pursue," you said slowly. "My focus was always on Oscar. From the moment he started showing promise in racing, I just naturally fell into the role of his protector, his support system."

You smiled softly, remembering those early days. "Oscar was so talented, but he was also just a kid with big dreams and even bigger pressures. I felt like it was my job to shield him from the worst of it, to be his safe haven. It wasn't a sacrifice, not really. It was a choice I made out of love. Oscar's success, his happiness - that became my passion."

"But what about your art?" Carlos pressed, his tone careful but curious.

You shrugged, a mix of emotions flickering across your face. "It just… faded into the background, I guess. There were always races to attend, equipment to pack. My sketchbooks got buried under stacks of racing magazines. My easel gathered dust in the corner of my room."

Carlos reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "YN , that's… that's incredibly selfless of you. But don't you miss it?"

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you at Carlos's question, his gentle touch grounding you.

"I do," you admitted softly, your eyes meeting his. "I've been Oscar's sister, his supporter, for so long. I'm not sure I remember how to be anything else."

"Oh, mi amor," Carlos said softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "You're so much more than just Oscar's sister. You're YN - a woman with a beautiful heart and a determinate mind. Your love for Oscar is admirable, but it doesn't have to be the only thing that defines you," he paused, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, "I'm honored to be close to that woman. The one who sees beauty in leaves and flowers, who can lose herself in creating art, even when she forgets about it."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But old habits die hard, and you found yourself deflecting with humor. "Wow, Sainz," you said, a teasing glint in your eye. "Are you always this sappy, or am I just special?"

Carlos's face broke into a grin, recognizing your playful tone. "Only for you, Piastri. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

"Oh please," you rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. "Your reputation as what? A little bitch?"

Carlos' face broke into a wide grin, "One day you'll stop calling me that."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the earlier conversation dissolving into familiar banter. "Keep telling yourself that, Sainz."

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ynpiastri te quiero barcelona 🫶

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username1 OH

username2 WHAT IS HAPPENINGGGG

alexandrasaintmleux 👀❤️

username3 SHE THINKS SHES SLICK CROPPING CARLOS’ EYES GIRL WE CAN TELL ITS HIM

lilyzneimer 🥹

username4 the piastri - sainz beef turning into piastri - sainz romance wasn’t on my bingo card

nicolepiastri You failed Spanish like three times in high school…

↳ username1 HEEEEELPPP

↳ oscarpiastri 😂😂😂😂😂😂

↳ username2 mama piastri is too iconic for constantly dragging her kids

↳ ynpiastri 😩

landonorris I SEE HOW IT IS NOW

↳ username1 help lando’s dreams came true

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Saturday arrived in Barcelona, which meant it was time for qualifying.

After your quick rendezvous with Carlos in his motorhome - something that was routine by now- you made your way towards the paddock club to meet Alex and Kika. Your mind was still buzzing from Carlos' touch, your skin tingling where his lips had been just moments ago.

Your hair was slightly tousled, a result of Carlos' fingers running through it. You could still feel the ghost of his kisses on your neck, and the memory sent a shiver down your spine. Pausing briefly, you tried to smooth down your clothes and fix your appearance in the reflection of a nearby trailer. The last thing you needed was more knowing looks from your friends, you had enough when Lando teasing you and Carlos whenever he had the chance.

Approaching the paddock club, you spotted Alex and Kika waiting for you near the entrance.

"Hey, there you are!" Alex called out as you neared. "We were starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "In a place I've been coming to for years? Not likely."

The three of you sat down at a nearby table and ordered something to drink. The conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from race predictions to the latest paddock gossip.

"So," Kika said, leaning forward towards you, "how are things going with Carlos? You two seem pretty cozy lately."

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, the warmth spreading to your cheeks. You took a sip of your drink to buy yourself a moment, but you couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips. "Things are good. Really good, actually."

"But…?" Alex's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied your face.

"But nothing," you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "We're just enjoying each other's company."

Kika's eyebrows shot up, her expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Wait, has he not asked you to be his girlfriend yet? I thought for sure you two would be official by now."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, bringing all your insecurities rushing to the surface. The ones you've tried to push away since this thing with Carlos began.

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your friends knew you too well. The smile you'd been wearing moments ago faltered, and you could feel the doubt creeping in.

"Hey," Alex said softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. Carlos is crazy about you, anyone can see that. Every relationship moves at its own pace."

You nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, of course. We're just taking things slow, that's all."

But as the conversation moved on to other topics, you couldn't shake the doubt that had taken root in your mind. You found yourself only half-listening, your thoughts a swirling mess of questions and insecurities.

Why hadn't Carlos made things official? Was he keeping his options open? Were you still just his rival's sister who picked fights with him in his eyes? The rational part of your brain tried to argue that labels didn't matter, that what you and Carlos had was special regardless of what you called it. But the insecure part wouldn't be silenced so easily.

As you sat there, surrounded by the chatter of your friends and the energy of the circuit, you felt a strange sense of isolation creep over you. You were in Carlos' home city, surrounded by his world, and yet you'd never felt more unsure of your place in it.

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"Finally," Carlos breathed, as he opened the door. Before you could utter a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside, kicking the door shut behind you. In one fluid motion, he pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours.

"Carlos, what-" you started, but he silenced you with a searing kiss.

When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless. "Sorry," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I've been wanting to do that all day."

"You saw me right after the race, you needy little bitch."

Carlos' hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer. "That was hours ago. Far too long."

"Seriously?" you teased, though you couldn't keep the affection out of your voice. "You're ridiculous, Sainz."

"Maybe," he conceded, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. "But you like it."

Carlos began to trail kisses down your neck, his touch igniting sparks across your skin. You laughed as he pulled you towards the bed, your fingers intertwining with his.

"Slow down, hotshot. The bed's not going anywhere."

"But my patience might," he turned to face you, "Do you know how hard it was to focus on the post-race interviews when all I could think about was getting you alone?"

"Oh, poor baby," you teased gently, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "It must have been tough, going over the race data after a P6 finish."

Carlos groaned dramatically, pulling you closer. "Torture, hermosa. Absolute torture."

Carlos guided you towards the bed, his hands never leaving your body. With a gentle push, he lowered you onto the mattress, quickly following to hover above you. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and passionate, as his hands roamed your sides, slipping under the hem of your shirt.

You arched into his touch, your own hands exploring the firm planes of his back. Carlos broke the kiss to trail his lips along your jawline, down to the sensitive spot on your neck that always made you gasp.

"You're really needy today, aren't you?" you said, running your fingers through his hair.

Carlos' lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes softening with affection. "I'm always needy when it comes to my girl," he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips once more.

Your breath caught in your throat, not just from the sensation of his warm breath on your skin, but from his words. My girl. The phrase echoed in your mind, stirring up the doubts you'd been trying to push away.

Suddenly, Kika's voice from your earlier conversation rang in your ears. "Wait, has he not asked you to be his girlfriend yet?"

The warmth that had been building in your chest turned cold as uncertainty crept in. If you were his girl, then why hadn't he made it official?

Carlos must have sensed your sudden tension because he pulled back slightly, his brow furrowing. "YN? What's wrong?"

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the doubts. "Nothing," you said, your voice not quite as steady as you'd hoped.

He studied your face for a moment, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you sure? We can stop if you're not feeling it."

"No, no," you assured him quickly, not wanting to ruin the moment. "I'm fine. Just… got distracted for a second."

Carlos didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded slowly. "Okay, but promise me you'll tell me if something's bothering you?"

You nodded, pulling him back down for another kiss. As you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you pushed your concerns to the back of your mind.

A few moments later, you laid tangled beneath the covers, your head resting on Carlos' chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare shoulder. The afterglow should have been blissful, but your mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts you couldn't quiet.

Carlos must have sensed your unease because he shifted slightly, tilting his head to look at you. "YN? What's wrong, hermosa? You seem… distant. Are you not feeling well?"

You sighed, debating whether to voice your concerns. "It's nothing, really. I just…" you trailed off, unsure how to continue.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

You bit your lip, your heart racing. "It's just… when you called me 'your girl' earlier… I don't know. It made me think."

"Think about what?" Carlos' brow furrowed slightly. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no, you didn't," you assured him quickly. "It's more about… us, I guess. About what we are. What this is between us."

"YN," he said, his voice low and intense. "I thought I've been clear about how I feel about you. I've been yours since that kiss at Jimmy'z last year. Maybe even before that, if I'm being honest."

His words should have reassured you, but they only made your anxiety spike. You sat up abruptly, pulling the sheet around you.

You'd wanted clarity, but now that you had it, you didn't know how to handle it.

"But what does that mean, Carlos?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. "We've been doing... whatever this is for months now, but we've never really talked about it. We haven't put a label on it."

Carlos sat up too, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "I didn't think we needed to. I thought it was obvious how I felt about you."

"Obvious?" you repeated, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "How is it obvious when we've never actually discussed what we are to each other?"

Carlos reached for your hand, but you pulled away, standing up from the bed. You began pacing, your mind racing.

"YN, please," Carlos said, his voice soft. "Come back to bed. Let's talk about this."

You shook your head, reaching for your clothes. "I can't... I need to think. I need some space."

As you hurriedly dressed, Carlos got out of bed, pulling on his boxers. "Are you really running away, Piastri?" he asked, a hint of anger in his voice now. "I thought we were past this. That you weren't that arrogant girl who was ready to pick up pointless fights with me anymore."

His words stung, cutting deeper than you thought possible. It felt like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs and leaving you reeling. The accusation brought back all the insecurities you'd been trying to suppress, all the doubts about whether you deserved this happiness with Carlos. It was as if he'd reached into your chest and squeezed your heart, leaving you raw and vulnerable.

You whirled to face him, eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "Arrogant? Is that what you think of me?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Carlos ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. "I just... I thought we'd moved past the point where you'd run away instead of talking to me."

"Maybe I wouldn't feel the need to run if you'd actually communicate with me," you shot back.

"Communicate?" Carlos scoffed. "That's rich coming from you. You're the one who's been keeping me at arm's length this whole time!"

The accusation hit you like a slap. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, YN," Carlos said, his voice rising. "Every time things get too real, you pull away. You make a joke, you change the subject. It's like you're afraid of admitting that this might actually mean something."

"That's not fair," you protested, feeling tears prick at your eyes. "I'm here, aren't I? I've been here! But how am I supposed to be sure that this isn't just a fling for you? Or some twisted way to mess with Oscar?"

"Oscar?" Carlos looked you with wide eyes, shaking his head, "What does Oscar have to do with anything? This is about us, YN. You and me."

"Is it?" you challenged, your voice breaking. "Because sometimes I don't even know what 'us' means. Are we together? Are we just having fun? How am I supposed to know?"

Carlos' expression softened slightly, but his frustration was still evident. "You're not being fair, Piastri. I've always been the one to show my desire to be with you. I did it that night after Lando's party, remember? But you're the one who runs away when things get real."

His words hit home, and you felt a fresh wave of guilt and confusion wash over you.

"I don't... I don't run away," you said weakly, but even to your own ears, it sounded unconvincing.

"Don't you?" Carlos asked, his voice softening. "Every time I try to take a step forward, you take three steps back. I'm not the one who's afraid of labels here."

Silence lingered in the air, you felt physically sick. Carlos' words were true, every single one of them, deep down you knew it. As much as you tried to let your guard down with him, your self defense mechanisms always came through.

"When are you going to stop sabotaging your own happiness for other people?" Carlos asked after another minute of silence. "This isn't about Oscar, or anyone else. It's about you being too scared to admit that you might actually care about me."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, once again. "Scared? You think I'm scared? I'm terrified, Carlos! Terrified of getting hurt, of ruining everything. And you're not exactly making it easy.""

"How am I not making it easy?" Carlos demanded, his voice rising. "I've been nothing but clear about my feelings for you. Every time I get close, you shut down!" Carlos shouted, his frustration boiling over. "It's like you're allergic to any kind of emotional intimacy!"

"Oh, that's something coming from you," you spat back. "Mr. 'I-can-charm-anyone-with-a-smile'. How do I know this isn't just another conquest for you?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You saw the hurt flash across Carlos' face, quickly replaced by anger.

"A conquest?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "Is that really what you think of me? After everything I've shared with you?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," you said, your voice breaking. "This whole thing is just... it's too much. I can't do this."

You turned towards the door, reaching for the handle. Carlos stepped forward, his anger dissipating, replaced by desperation.

"YN, wait," he pleaded. "Please, don't go. Not like this. Let's talk, mi amor. Don't run from me."

The term of endearment, spoken so softly, almost broke your resolve. You paused, your hand on the doorknob, torn between the urge to flee and the desire to fall into his arms.

"I... I can't, Carlos," you whispered, your voice thick with tears. "I need some time. Some space to think."

"YN, please," Carlos said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We can figure this out together. Just... stay. Please."

You turned to look at him one last time, your heart breaking at the pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry," you managed to say. "I'll... I'll call you later."

And with that, you stepped out into the hallway, leaving Carlos standing alone in his room.

You immediately felt like you made a huge mistake.

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You were curled up on the couch in your apartment, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, staring blankly at the TV screen. The sound was muted, the flickering images providing a distraction you desperately needed but couldn't quite focus on. Your phone lay face down on the coffee table, ignored despite the occasional vibration of incoming messages.

Your mind wandered to Carlos, it always did.

The memory of your argument played on repeat in your head, each hurtful word a fresh wound. You couldn't shake the image of his face - the hurt, the anger, the desperation in his eyes as you walked out the door. It haunted you.

Everything that had happened that night felt like a blur. The passion of your initial encounter, the tenderness of his touch, the way he called you "his girl" - it all seemed so perfect until your insecurities came crashing in. You wondered if you had overreacted, if you had let your fears get the best of you.

Carlos had been right about one thing - you did have a tendency to run when things got too real. It was a defense mechanism, a way to protect yourself from getting hurt. But in doing so, were you sabotaging your own happiness, like he said?

The only thing you were sure about was that it wasn't physical attraction or the remaining tension of your bickering from last year anymore, Carlos saw you in a way no one else did, and that terrified you as much as it thrilled you.

Your conversation with Lando from earlier that day came back to you. You had called him in a moment of panic, spilling out all your fears and doubts. Lando, ever the unusual voice of reason, had listened patiently.

"YN," he had said, his voice gentle but firm, "you can't let your insecurities ruin what you and Carlos could have. I've known him for years, and I've never seen him like this with anyone else. He really cares about you."

"But what if it doesn't work out?" you had asked, your voice small. "What if we end up hating each other again?"

Lando had chuckled at that. "You two are so stubborn, you know that? You're both so afraid of letting your guard down that you're pushing each other away. Someone needs to take the first step, YN. And from what Carlos has told me, he's been trying. Maybe it's your turn."

His words echoed in your mind now, mixing with the memory of Carlos' plea for you to stay.

You made a huge mistake by walking away that night, and now you didn't know how to fix it.

A soft knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts. You hesitated, not wanting to face anyone, but another, more insistent knock followed.

"YN? It's me, open up," Oscar's voice called from the other side.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off the couch and shuffled to the door. When you opened it, your brother's concerned face greeted you.

"Hey," Oscar said softly, his eyes scanning your disheveled appearance. "Can I come in?"

You nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. Oscar walked in, his gaze taking in the dim lighting and the general disarray of your usually tidy living room. He turned to face you, worry etched across his features.

"What's going on, sis? I heard you're not going to Austria," he said, his voice gentle but probing. "And it looks like you haven't slept in days."

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I just need a break," you mumbled, moving back to the couch and curling up in your previous position.

Oscar followed, sitting down beside you.

He reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle and familiar. "YN, talk to me. What's really going on? Is this about Carlos?"

At the mention of Carlos' name, you felt a fresh wave of emotion wash over you. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Oscar noticed your reaction and pulled you into a tight hug.

"Oh, sis," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "What happened?"

You buried your face in your brother's shoulder, finally letting the tears fall. Between sobs, you started to explain everything that had happened in Barcelona - the conversation with Kika and Alex, your growing insecurities, the night in Carlos's hotel room, your argument. As you spoke, you could feel the weight of the past week pressing down on you, the emotions you'd been bottling up threatening to spill over.

"…and now, I don't know what to do," you finished, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I've ruined everything."

"YN, listen to me. You haven't ruined anything," Oscar said, "Relationships are complicated, and misunderstandings happen. But from what you've told me and what I've seen, it sounds like Carlos cares about you a lot. And I think you care about him too, more than you're willing to admit to yourself."

"But what if it all goes wrong?" you wiped your eyes, sniffling. "What if we end up hating each other even more than we did before? What if... what if I'm not enough for him?"

Oscar shook his head, a small smile on his face. "You've always been your own worst enemy, you know that?" you almost rolled your eyes at he familiar statement. "Remember when I left for boarding school? You were so upset, convinced that I was leaving you behind forever. You didn't want to say goodbye, afraid it would hurt too much."

The memory flooded back, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "Yeah, I remember," you said softly.

"But do you remember what happened after?" Oscar prompted.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "We ended up talking more than ever. Phone calls, letters, video chats…"

"Exactly," Oscar said, squeezing your hand. "You were so scared of losing me that you almost pushed me away. But when you finally opened up, our relationship grew stronger than ever."

"That's different, Oscar. This is… it's Carlos. It's complicated."

"Is it?" Oscar challenged. "Or are you just making it complicated because you're scared? I've seen the way you two look at each other. It's not just some leftover tension from your rivalry. It's real."

You sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. "But what if-"

"No more 'what ifs'," Oscar interrupted. "You can't live your life afraid of what might happen. You're missing out on what's right in front of you," you were quiet for a moment, considering his words until he spoke again, "I know you’ve held back a lot in your life—for me, for our family—but I don’t want you holding back when it comes to Carlos.”

You blinked, slightly caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Oscar hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I mean… I’ve seen how much you sacrifice for the people you love. You’ve put so much of your own life on hold to support me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. But when it comes to Carlos—this thing between you—it’s different. I would never forgive myself if you sacrificed that for my sake.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you realized how much Oscar understood you, maybe even more than you realized. “Oscar, I’m not holding back for you, I—”

“I know you’re not doing it consciously," he interrupted gently, "But I can see it. You’re worried about how our dynamic will change, or maybe how I’ll react. But, YN, I want you to be happy. If being with Carlos makes you happy, then I want you to go for it. Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

You sat there, absorbing what Oscar said. His words made you feel a lot of different things all at once. You realized he was right - you had been holding back, not just with Carlos, but in many parts of your life. This scared you, but also made you feel free.

It was time to put yourself first.

"I hate that you're always so wise, you're my little brother, I'm supposed to be the one giving you advice, not the other way around."

"To be fair, I was thrown into the motorsport world at an early age, you experience all kinds of drama there," he shrugged, making both of you laugh, "Now, are you going to talk to him, or do I need to drag you to Austria myself? Or even Madrid?"

You let out a small laugh, the first genuine one in days. "I guess I'll talk to him. But I still don't feel like going to Austria, I need some time to gather my thoughts."

"Fair enough," Oscar nodded, "Just don't take too long, okay? You both deserve to be happy. And Lando is freaking out because you're ruining his dreams again."

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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 397,538 others

ynpiastri i almost forgot how it felt to watch a race on tv. congratulations boys 🥳 and ty to my queen @carmenmmundt for the last picture

tagged: oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, georgerussell63

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username1 QUEEN WE MISS YOU WHAT HAPPENED

username2 the paddock is not the same without the most iconic piastri

lilyzneimer 🤍

carmenmmundt 😚😚

username3 im pretty sure this is the first time she’s not at a race since oscar’s f2 days

username4 THE 55 HELLO?????

username5 WHATS THEIR SHIP NAME?? PAINZ???

username6 she’s down bad for the smooth operator this is what i call enemies to lovers

landonorris You seem happy for my DNF…

↳ ynpiastri stfu

carlossainz55 ❤️

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You paced nervously in your apartment, your heart racing as you waited for Carlos to arrive. The soft carpet muffled your footsteps but did nothing to quiet the storm of thoughts in your head. You had rehearsed what you wanted to say a hundred times, but now that the moment was here, all your carefully prepared words seemed to evaporate.

Your eyes flitted to the clock on the wall, then to your phone, checking the time for what felt like the thousandth time. The knock on the door made you jump, your pulse skyrocketing. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "It's just Carlos," you told yourself, but that thought brought both comfort and a new wave of anxiety.

With trembling hands, you smoothed down your shirt and ran a hand through your hair before opening the door. Carlos stood there, looking tired but as handsome as ever. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his hands through it—a nervous habit you'd noticed before.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, a mix of relief and apprehension in his gaze. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions.

"Hi," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stepped aside to let him in, hyper-aware of his presence as he moved past you.

"Hi," he replied, his voice warm as he entered.

You led him to the living room, settling on the couch. There was a moment of awkward silence, the tension palpable. You both opened your mouths to speak at the same time.

"I'm sorry—“

"I wanted to—"

You both laughed, some of the tension dissipating. The sound of his laughter, even tinged with nervousness, helped to ease some of your anxiety.

"You go first," Carlos said, his eyes soft as he looked at you. His gaze was patient, encouraging, and you drew strength from it.

You took a deep breath, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, knowing he deserved your full honesty. "Carlos, I'm so sorry for running away in Barcelona. It wasn't fair to you, and I've been kicking myself ever since. I… I panicked. Everything was happening so fast, and I just… I couldn't handle it."

He nodded, his expression understanding. He reached out to take your hand, his touch sending a shiver through you. "I appreciate that, YN. Truly. But I owe you an apology too. I shouldn't have pushed you or made assumptions about your feelings. I got caught up in the moment and didn't consider how overwhelming it might be for you."

"No, Carlos, you were right," you shook your head, squeezing his hand. "I do run away when things get too real. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to myself either."

You paused, gathering your courage. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure Carlos must be able to hear it. "The truth is, I care about you. A lot. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time. And that terrifies me."

Carlos moved closer, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. The tenderness in his touch almost undid you. "Why does it terrify you, mi amor?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours.

You leaned into his touch, feeling tears prick at your eyes. The vulnerability of the moment was almost overwhelming, but you forced yourself to continue. "Because I'm not used to feeling this vulnerable. I've always prided myself on being independent, on not needing anyone. It's been my armor, my way of protecting myself. But with you… you see parts of me that I don't show anyone else. You've managed to slip past all my defenses, and it scares me how much I want to let you in completely."

Carlos listened intently, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as you spoke. His warmth, his steady presence, made the walls you had built around yourself seem almost unnecessary.

"It's okay to be scared, hermosa. I understand why you feel like you need to protect yourself. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I’m here, and I want to be here for you, with you."

Your heart swelled at his words, and despite the vulnerability, a small part of you felt lighter, freer. "I’ve never let anyone get this close before," you admitted. "But I don’t want to keep running, Carlos. I don’t want to keep pushing you away."

Carlos smiled softly, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "I don’t want you to run, either. I want us to be together, whatever comes next. But only if that’s what you want."

You exhaled shakily, emotions swirling inside you like a storm. "It is what I want," you said, your voice firm but laced with emotion. "I want to be with you. I’m tired of being scared of something that could be so good."

A look of pure relief crossed Carlos' face, and he pulled you into his arms. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, feeling his heart beating steadily under your cheek. His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he were afraid you might disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, answering the unspoken fear that lingered between you both.

Carlos kissed the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that."

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest, "I promise I'll change, I'll be-"

"Mi amor," Carlos interrupted softly, "I don't want to change you. I fell for you exactly as you are—stubborn, brilliant, and fiercely independent. Those are the qualities that drew me to you in the first place."

You couldn't help but smile at that, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Even when I was being a pain in your ass?" you asked, a hint of your usual sass creeping into your voice.

"Especially then," he chuckled, the sound warming you from the inside out. "You know, even when we were at each other's throats, I was always drawn to you. I wanted to know you better, to understand what made you such a firecracker."

"Really?" you asked, surprised.

"Really," he confirmed, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Besides, you were infuriatingly attractive when you were angry. The way your eyes would flash, the flush on your cheeks… it took everything in me not to kiss you right then and there sometimes."

You felt a familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks at Carlos' words, but you couldn't help the playful smirk that tugged at your lips. "Oh, so that's why you were always trying to rile me up, huh? And here I thought you were just being an insufferable little bitch."

"Ah, there's the Piastri I know," Carlos threw his head back in laughter. "I was wondering when your sharp tongue would make an appearance."

"You love it," you teased, feeling more like yourself than you had in days.

"I do," he admitted, his eyes twinkling.

Carlos' gaze dropped to your lips. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn't want to. Not anymore.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he was still afraid you might run. But as you responded, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, filled with all the emotions you had both been holding back.

When you finally pulled apart, Carlos rested his forehead against yours. "I meant every word I said," he murmured. "I'm serious about this. I want to make this work."

You took a deep breath, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now. "I'm serious too, Carlos. It scares me how much I want this, but… I want to be with you."

The smile that broke across Carlos' face was radiant. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again.

"You're still my little bitch after all," you couldn't help but laugh as you parted.

"When are you going to change that to something more romantic, hmm?" Carlos rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. "'Mi amor,' perhaps? Or 'cariño'?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I failed Spanish in high school?" you rolled your eyes back at him. "And I thought you liked it when I called you that. Didn't you say once that it turned you on?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that statement," he said with a grin. "But how about this—you can call me your 'little bitch' if you want, but I get to call you my girlfriend. Deal?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the word 'girlfriend.' It should have scared you, but instead, it filled you with warmth.

"Deal," you agreed, pulling him in for another kiss.

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ynpiastri fitting 💋

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username1 OMGGGG

username2 ICONIC

alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂😂😂

username3 WHOS THE BOYFRIENDDDD

logansargeant Is this who I think it is? 👀

↳ ynpiastri little bitches everywhere

username4 THATS CARLOS CONFIRMED

username5 CARLOSYN PAINZ 😩

landonorris BITCH FINALLY

↳ username1 i bet lando manifested this

nicolepiastri We been knew since Singapore 2023, by the way

↳ ynpiastri MUM 😩

↳ username2 I LOVE YOU NICOLE PIASTRI

carlossainz55 ❤️

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The Hungarian Grand Prix had been a whirlwind of emotions. The entire paddock was still buzzing with excitement over Oscar's maiden Formula 1 victory.

Your little brother had driven the race of his life, leading most of the laps to take the checkered flag. The memory of him standing on the top step of the podium, eyes glistening with tears of joy as the Australian national anthem played, was one you'd cherish forever. The pride you felt was indescribable - your baby brother, the kid you'd watched grow up and chase his dreams, was now a Grand Prix winner.

It had been three blissful weeks since you and Carlos had officially become a couple. After your heartfelt conversation at your apartment, you had both taken the time to navigate this new phase of your relationship, and it had been everything you could have hoped for.

Telling your close friends and family was the easy part. Lando practically squealed with delight, Oscar and Carlos had a nice chat, and of course, Nicole Piastri, a fan of dragging her own kids, reminded everyone that you failed Spanish in high school multiple times, so Carlos had to make sure to constantly translate for you. The rest of the paddock had quickly caught on, and soon, Carlos Sainz and the eldest Piastri were the talk of the town.

But you didn't mind the attention. Being with Carlos felt so natural and right.

Now, as you sat in the airport waiting for your delayed flight to Monaco, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. Sure, the hours-long delay was less than ideal, but you were surrounded by the people you cared about most, celebrating Oscar's first win with good old fasioned airport McDonalds.

"I can't believe Oscar got his first win," Lando exclaimed, already halfway through a Big Mac. "That's crazy, mate."

"I know, I still can't believe it," Oscar beamed, "It hasn't really sunk in yet."

You reached over to give your brother's arm an affectionate squeeze. "I'm so proud of you, Osc. You deserve it."

"Thanks, sister. Couldn't have done it without your support all these years."

"Oh, come on," you teased, "I didn't drive that car. That was all you out there."

"Yeah, but you've always been there," Oscar insisted, his voice softening. "Through the karting days, the junior formulas, all of it. It means a lot."

You felt a lump form in your throat, touched by your brother's words. You pulled Oscar into a tight hug, blinking back tears of pride and joy. "You're my little brother, Osc. I'll always be in your corner, no matter what."

Oscar returned the embrace, squeezing you tightly. "I know, YN. And I couldn't ask for a better cheerleader."

When you finally pulled apart, you noticed the others watching with fond smiles.

Across the lounge, Carlos was engaged in an animated conversation with Lando, their voices a low hum in the background. You couldn't help but watch him, admiring the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the graceful movement of his hands as he gesticulated. Even in casual clothes, hair slightly mussed from the long day, he took your breath away.

As if sensing your gaze, Carlos looked up, his eyes meeting yours. The soft smile that spread across his face sent a flutter through your chest. You patted the empty spot next to you on the couch, a silent invitation. He nodded, excusing himself from his conversation with Lando, which couldn't help but tease about the two of you being codependent now.

"Missing me already, mi amor?" Carlos teased as he approached.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't keep the smile off your face. "Don't flatter yourself, Sainz. I just didn't want you to strain your neck looking over here every five seconds."

Carlos chuckled as he sat down next to you, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Ah, but how can I resist when the view is so beautiful?"

You snuggled into his side, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. "Smooth talker," you murmured, but there was no bite to your words.

"Only for you, hermosa," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching as the sun began to set through the large windows. The quiet was occasionally punctuated by laughter from where Oscar, Alex, and Lando were playing some sort of card game.

"How are you feeling?" you asked Carlos softly, noticing the slight droop to his shoulders.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Tired," he admitted. "It's been a long few weeks. But happy," he added, squeezing you gently. "Very happy."

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I'm glad. You drove amazingly this weekend, you know."

"Thank you," Carlos leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. "It means a lot coming from you."

Carlos let out a contented sigh, his hand coming up to cover yours where it rested on his cheek. "I can't wait for the summer break, you know?" he murmured. "Just you and me, in Mallorca. No distractions, no obligations..." he turned his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm, his gaze holding yours. "I've been looking forward to it for weeks. Getting you all to myself, finally."

"That sounds perfect," you sighed happily. "Though I hope your plans also include plenty of time for just lounging around and doing absolutely nothing."

"Of course, whatever you want, hermosa."

"Whatever I want, huh?" you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye. "That's a dangerous offer, Sainz."

"I think I can handle whatever you throw at me, Piastri," he grinned, leaning in closer.

You were about to reply when a french fry hit you squarely on the forehead. You turned to see Oscar looking at you with mock disgust.

"Seriously, you two? We're right here," he groaned.

"Oh, like you and Lily aren't just as bad," you retorted, throwing the fry back at him.

Oscar caught it mid-air, popping it into his mouth with a grin. "At least we have the decency to be gross in private."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to see you all lovey-dovey," Lando chimed in.

"Shut up, Lando," you rolled your eyes, "I seem to recall you being the one who was pushing for this whole thing in the first place."

"Yeah, well," Lando shrugged, "I'm starting to think I preferred it when Carlos thought you were insufferable and you called him a 'little bitch'."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, glancing over at Carlos and pecking his cheek. "Oh, I still do."

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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri 403,664 others

ynpiastri my little brother, the grand prix winner 🥺

oscar, watching you stand on that top step today brought tears to my eyes. i still remember the day you left for boarding school to chase your racing dreams. i felt like i was losing my little brother, and a piece of my heart went with you.

but seeing you now, living your dream and achieving what so many thought impossible, all i can feel is an overwhelming sense of pride. you've grown into an incredible man and driver, but you'll always be that kid who used to steal my snacks and beg me to play race cars with him.

your journey hasn't been easy, through every challenge, every setback, you kept pushing. and now, here you are, a grand prix winner, battling with the best (and occasionally a spaniard little bitch 😩)

you've grown so much, but some things never change. like how we're celebrating this monumental victory - stuck in an airport, chowing down on mcdonald's.

i love you so much, little bro ❤️

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris, carlossainz55, landonorris, alex_albon

view all 4,648 comments

username1 im SOBBING this is so beautiful

username2 THE PIASTRI SIBLINGS ARE JUST TOO PURE

mclaren 🧡

nicolepiastri 🥲🥲🥲

username3 AHHH THE PICTURE OF HER AND CARLOS IN THE PLANE I CANT

username4 this is too pure as an eldest daughter im sobbing

username5 PAINZ CONFIRMED

carlossainz55 ❤️

↳ username1 he only comments hearts come on bro

username6 THE LANDOSCAR PIC🥺

oscarpiastri Sis, you've got me tearing up in the middle of this crowded airport. Your support has been the backbone of my journey, and I couldn't have done this without you. You've worn so many hats - cheerleader, mentor, occasional bodyguard (those Twitter wars were something else 😂 but look at you and Carlos now). But most importantly, you've been my rock. When Mum and Dad couldn't be there because of work, you stepped up. You've been my third parent in every way that counts. So yeah, we might be stuck in an airport eating McDonald's right now, but I wouldn't want to share this moment with anyone else. You're the best sister and 'bonus parent' a guy could ask for.

↳ ynpiastri bitch stop it my therapist has enough issues to deal with (ILYSM)

↳ username1 SHES SO REAL

↳ username2 OSCAR CONFIRMING CARLOS-YN

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TWITTER

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The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in oranges, pinks, and purples. The water was gently hitting the side of the yacht, making a calming sound. This peaceful feeling matched the quiet mood around you and Carlos.

You were sprawled out on the deck, lounging on plush cushions as the warm Mallorcan breeze caressed your skin. Carlos lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"You're staring," you murmured, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Carlos didn't even try to deny it. "How can I not?" he replied, his voice low and husky. "You're breathtaking, mi amor."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, still not entirely used to the way Carlos could make you feel with just a few words. "Flatterer," you teased, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly in contentment. When he opened them again, the look he gave you was filled with such warmth and adoration that it made your heart skip a beat.

"It's not flattery if it's true," Carlos insisted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

You couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you as his lips trailed up your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Carlos," you breathed, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through you. "Yes, hermosa?"

"Kiss me," you demanded softly, tugging him closer.

Carlos was more than happy to oblige, capturing your lips in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. You lost yourself in the sensation, in the taste of him, in the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally broke apart, Carlos rested his forehead against yours. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his accent thicker than usual.

"Good. That's the plan," you grinned

Carlos groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "You'll be the death of me, Piastri."

"But what a way to go," you quipped, running your hands down his back.

He chuckled against your skin, the sound sending pleasant vibrations through you. "Indeed."

As Carlos lifted his head to look at you again, something caught your eye over his shoulder. Squinting slightly, you realized what it was and couldn't help but let out a small sigh.

"What is it?" Carlos asked, noticing the change in your expression.

"Don't look now, but we've got company," you said, nodding slightly towards the distance. "Paparazzi, about a hundred meters out."

Carlos groaned, dropping his head back to your shoulder. "Can't we have one moment of peace?"

You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair. "Hey, it's okay. We knew this was part of the deal."

"I know. I just… I want to keep you all to myself sometimes."

The possessiveness in his tone sent a thrill through you. "Well," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye, "if they're going to intrude on our privacy anyway, we might as well give them something to see."

Before Carlos could react, you pulled him down for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, and decidedly more public-friendly than your previous ones. When you pulled back, Carlos looked slightly dazed.

"Dios mio, your family is going to see those," he shook his head, "What will Nicole Piastri think of me? Oscar will run me off the track, too."

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Oh, please. My mum adores you, and you know it. As for Oscar, well… he'll just have to get used to it," you shrugged, "He was the one who encouraged this to happen anyway."

Carlos only shook his head with a smile, pulling you in for another kiss, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, feeling his skin against yours.

When you finally broke apart, Carlos's eyes were soft, "Te quiero," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with emotion.

You couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "I failed Spanish, remember?" you teased gently, your heart racing in your chest.

Carlos's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back. "I think you know what that means," he replied, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I love you too, you little bitch."

Carlos let out a dramatic groan, but the affection in his expression was unmistakable. "I should have known the sappiness wouldn't last."

"Hey, you signed up for this," you teased, poking him playfully in the chest. "Might as well accept it."

Pulling you close, Carlos pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "Gladly, mi amor. Gladly."

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liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 476,458 others

ynpiastri he’s still a little bitch 😚

tagged: carlossainz55

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username1 AHHHH

username2 THIS HARD LAUCH

alexandrasaintmleux love to see you happy my girl 🥰

lilyzneimer 💓💓

username3 THIS is enemies to lovers

username4 i still can’t believe they’re together 😭 THEY HATED EACH OTHER

georgerussell63 WELL FINALLY

↳ alex_albon For real

↳ username1 THE ENTIRE GRID JUST KNEW

↳ ynpiastri why are all of you so damn nosy

↳ pierregasly Or you and Carlos were too obvious

↳ charles_leclerc 😂😂😂😂😂

oscarpiastri Yup, this is weird

↳ username1 OSCARRRR

oscarpiastri However, I’m really happy for you sister ❤️

↳ ynpiastri ily little indirect matchmaker

carlossainz55 You’ll never stop calling me that, won’t you hermosa?

↳ ynpiastri NEVERRR MY LITTLE BITCH FOR LIFE

[rinnstars]

youre my world!

in which they accidentally reveal your relationship to the public (and confirms it)

bllk boys x reader (reo, nagi, rin, sae,): fluff, crack, pro-athletes bllk boys, drabbles, not proofread + likes n reblogs are appreciated!

reo mikage:

sometimes, contrary to what reo believes, he’s simply impulsive and childish in the face of love - excitedly posting a story of you and him at your favourite cafe, beaming at the way your hands merged with him so well - so well that he posted it to his main public account associated with both mikage corporation and his soccer career in manshine city where everyone witnessed it up for 12 hours before he wakes up to his PR calling him freaking out. to be honest, he thinks it shouldn’t be such a big deal right? its not as if the media hasn’t speculated over his relationship status for months now - from every little jewellery that fits perfectly onto his wrist, neck and fingers, from every visits to designer clothes store, to designer jewellery store, to designer shoe stores bringing out huge shopping bags that make his frame look petite in comparison, from every single photo he posts on his feed that they scruntised from the angle, to the place, to the clothes that seem to belong to a matching set somewhere somehow. its expected some thinks - he’s rich, he’s got a decent career, he’s charming both in looks and personality publicised in front of television for many to swoon over, there’s no way he isn’t taken just yet. but now, the focus that he’s so used to shifts to you, who’s only half a face is revealed but has gathered just as much attention a selfies he posts on social media at the request of his managers. and perhaps he now feels it - the jealousy that runs green at his heart as if its always been there tugging at the red muscle, and suddenly all he wants to do is to keep you in his treasure chest of things only he can have, keep you caged in his warm embrace like after practice forever, keep you safe away from the public side of the world that he’s practically born to face. but right at the same time, he wishes nothing more than to parade you in front of the world that he’s sure he loathes secretly in his heart, to share with the world of hte blessing that the world has given him in the bitter and harsh world, to express his love in the way he knows how to.

he thinks it was fate that he accidentally posted it on the wrong account, and who is he to go against the universe that have led you to him in this lifetime. and so, he posts a photo dump of you and him right on his main account - filled with pictures gathered and kept by him in his phone in a folder, whether that be a picture of you eating that sugary-sweet treat that he can still taste from the kiss he shared with you right after that photo, picture of you with him right after his first ever win in his career beaming ear-to-ear hat he looks at like its his lucky charm till this day, picture of you and him wearing that matching chikawa pajama at his apartment studying late into the night together for your finals together. and next time the reporter asks him, he doesn’t hesitate to profess his love of you to the world as though he’s waited his entire life to confess it out to the world.

nagi seishiro:

nagi seishiro is practically on the hunt list by paparazzis - infamously hard to capture on film not because of his bright white hair that seems to avoid flashes but rather that he rarely goes out of his apartment - and when he does, does the paparazzi goes crazy especially when he leaves his house on a blue moon, hands tangling with someone else’s. to him, it was just another day - dragged by you to go to wherever you want for the day that you surely deserve after sleeping over at his place for the past few days cramming for your assignments and whatnot in a quiet environment that just so happens to be his room whilst he lazes around in his bed playing his game with his earphones on glancing at you unbeknownst to you. it was supposed to be just another lunch date just like any others you’ve been with him, wearing whatever to go to your nearby cafe that practically recognises you and nagi and hides you at the corner booth where he first confessed to you out of pure impulse after seeing you chat excitedly about your interest with such passion he can’t help but feel his heart skip multiple beats at once. and yet here you both are giggling at the edits and theories his fans have came up with in defence against a dating rumour as you two lie on his bed, body practically melted together, limbs tangled with his — whether that be deeming you as his little sister that hes strangely close to, to deeming the photo as a breach of privacy, to deeming the photo as straight up edited. he thinks its sort of funny, isnt it clear you two are clearly together romantically? with his hands wrapped around yours that fits just right like a puzzle piece fitting into one another. his eyes glancing at you as though youre his entire world, his smile that rarely appears on his face as he listens to another of your passionate chats.

and he supposes he must be a pretty passive or straight up bad partner when on his next win, a reporter asks about you in such a demeaning and insulting way that ticks his brain the wrong way. he thinks its too much of a bother to get fired up, he thinks its useless to get all upset and red in the face, he thinks its only fools that let their emotion overtake them — yet its against that comment that he suddenly stands up that surprises his members, the reporters around and even the crowd, his mouth leaning onto the microphone that for the first time speaks of something other than mediocre and uninterested responses but the same passionate tone that he thinks you must be rubbing off him, announcing your relationship with him with nothing but love and pride in his voice. and maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t regret it and its no bother to defend you to the world - its you and him against the world anyways.

itoshi rin:

all of this started simply because of rin’s first win in the world cup - pulling at the promise ring attached to his necklace to kiss in celebration that went trending on social media. its not uncommon for football players to celebrate on field or have lucky charms - but for fans to see the logical and detached itoshi rin to indulge in such superstitious habits is unnerving, completely out of character of the cool and calm player that practically overwhelms the field completely. he doesn’t think much of it, youre his lucky charm anyways - every game he makes sure to kiss that polaroid of you that he took of you badly with your new digicam that is slightly blurry and slightly way too bright but he kisses that beam of yours anyways, every game he makes sure to hear that voice message of you wishing him luck in that cheery tone that just makes him replay it over and over until time is up and he practically runs out to the field for the game, and every game he makes sure to dedicate each and every step. kick, turn all to you. he doesn’t get why the reporters keep asking him the same old question - “are you dating someone?” the answer is obviously yes, but that doesn’t mean he can say it - whether it be due to his PR manager, whether that be due to not wanting the media in his personal life, whether that be simply to protect you from the spotlight. its irritating, standing under that spotlight as questions gets thrown at him again and again - all he can think about is you on the stand still waiting for him probably getting cold from the harsh and ruthless wind that your sweater might not be able to keep you warm despite it all, all he can think is the congratulationary kiss you give him after each game that melts both yours and his lips together that makes his entire face go uncharacteristically bright red and his eyes go wide, all he can think about is you so close to running off mid interview again like hes a spoiled child throwing a tantrum as the media described it just to see you a little earlier and spend a little more time with you rather than these irrelevant people. really, not even the harsh critics by the media and fans that compares him to a clone of his brother that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, not even his PR manager’s scoldings and nagging can deter him from running away from all of these to you, and hell hes sure not even if the world ended right in front him right now would he hesitate before running with all hes ever known, even faster than he runs during these matches to get to you, to at least kiss you once last time before you two turn into mash like those zombie movies that perhaps have gotten a little too into his head.

and he ticks his tongue again at that same question. are you dating someone? he sees you from the corner of his eye, walking away from the venue likely going to his car to get some warmth at least, and he cant stand to see you walk alone and so it leaves before he realises. “yes.” one word before he runs as though he’s back right into another life-or-death situation on the field. runs as though that is his only way of salvation, runs as though hes chasing after world - you. and its with you he thinks that he loses that logical and cold persona that everyone forces on him - because with you, hes just itoshi rin, your boyfriend and not any of the names the media and the world wants to throw on him whether positive of negative.

itoshi sae:

every time he goes back to japan, he swears his luck goes all the way down - first time where he goes home and finds out that his middle school had closed down where he went there the morning after, second time where he realises the convenience store he goes to closed down for the very week he was staying, and third time where he finds a photograph of him buying a ring for you going viral online. and he finds out when he sees you giggling hunched over on the other side of the red. his right side feels awfully ice cold without your arms wrapping around his body drooling in your sleep that he’s much more used to. if anything, he’s more surprised that youre awake - he doesn’t know what time it is, a stark contrast to him in spain that’s practically like a robot to the way he automatically wakes up at six on the dot and automatically does his exercise routine on auto pilot - all he knows is that its certainly too early for you to be leaving his side to laugh at god knows what. its only in your apartment that he gets to act all grumpy as though he’s back to been thirteen sleeping over at your house where he spends the night completely awake at your tight embrace on him as though he’s your plushie that’s now on the floor abandoned for his warmth and wakes up completely sleep-deprived that’s remedied by your bright grin. he doesn’t hesitate to turn a little to your side and snake his hands around your waist, his hands fitting right with your body, earning a flinch from you from his ice cold hands that contrasts with your warmth. its only then he realises his surprise has been completely spoiled - its not the only thing the media has pretty much put a dent in his life, constant comparison that drove a wedge deeper into him and his brother relationship, flip-flopping between praise and criticism of each and every of his gameplay on the field that makes him secretly doubt his own self that he doesn’t wish to admit, and now spoiling a surprise he was excited thinking of spending the two of your life together for the rest of eternity. your laugh clears any of the black cloudy joke that hazes over his mind with negative thoughts of self doubt, of insecurities, of irrational fear in your eyes, you don’t hesitate to hold him in your embrace, turning him back to his previous sleeping position - away from your phone, away from any distraction, away from the outside world. and he knows, he knows, even with that surprised spoiled, he’s sure you might just say yes to the diamond ring he still has kept in a dark red box right in his luggage tonight for a home-cooked dinner.

and he supposes he can give the media a glimpse of his life once in a while, playing the disappearance act for a few months as per usual before he posts a photo of you and him - draped in white cloth surrounded by white flowers with you and his friends and family at the side away from the camera, draped in jewelleries that he’s surprising not well-known to in the media that’s picky about the picture-perfect facade of itoshi sae that they have long decided on, draped in each others tugging at each other with nothing but love between both of you. in this world, its you and him whether or not with the media included or not, but he can’t help but to show you off to the world his angel can he?

[marcsburnerphone]

Bars and broken hearts

Simon Riley x F!reader 

Summary: The 141 minus john goes out for drinks and when johnny decides to throw simon a spontaneous bachelor surprise it goes left quickly.

Warnings: angst, betrayal, infidelity?, guilt, heartbreak, not a happy ending, alcohol consumption, lmk if I’m missing anything.

—-----------------

“Well I think you should go.” you say to your fiance who's currently trying to back out of plans he promised to attend with his mates, again.

“Why can't you just beg me to stay isn’t that what you’re are supposed to do.” he says in a whine although with a gruff voice like his only you could pick up on the slight change.

“And hear Johnny complain in my ear the next time I see him cause you’re never out of the house, yeah no thanks.” you say while stirring honey into your cup of tea. You can practically feel the holes his eyes are burning into your skull.

“You know they are always up to no good when we go out.” he says in a condescending tone.

“I trust you.” he has never given you a reason not to.

“You should they’d never let anything come between us, they love you more than me.” he says while slowly approaching you from the back planting a firm kiss to your cheek.

“So you’ll be attending then?” you say gleefully.

“Yeah, just this once though, gives me leeway to say no next time.” you laugh softly, simon and his thought out plans to get out of leaving home.

“I'll drop you off, don't look too good.” you say turning around, he gives you a strong kiss on the lips, tangling his large hand into your hair as his other hand squeezes gently at your ass groaning roughly as he hikes your thigh onto his waist.

“Yeah, nice try.” you say pushing him away reluctantly.

“Sure you don’t want me to stay?” You do want him to stay.

“I’m sure.” he groans, walking off into your shared bedroom carelessly pulling a black shirt and pants off a hanger, nearly snapping them.

You laugh to yourself taking a seat onto the couch as he noticeably makes his steps extra heavy on his way to the bathroom. You patiently wait for him, swiping mindlessly through social media.

“Right, I'm ready.” his voice slightly startles you and he quickly softens his attitude.

“If you would’ve kissed me looking like this i might’ve just kept you in.” you sigh into his mouth pulling him down for a kiss.

“Later I arrive, the later I leave, let's go.” you drive him to a pub not too far from your home. His hand squeezes at your thigh the whole way there until you arrive.

“I'll see you in a bit, I love you.” the corner of his mask lifts slightly.

“Better not be late for me doll, I love you more by the way.” he says while shutting the door waving you off.

—----------

“Aww where’s the lass?” Johnny questions still mostly sober.

“At home she said she’ll join next time.” Simon lies, you hate babysitting three 200 pound plus men after a long night.

“Tell her I promise to not empty my stomach in her car next time, I swear it.” soap says while ordering a round of shots.

“Like she’d believe that after the past TWO times.” Johnny looks remorseful as Gaz laughs then gags remembering what it was like to sit in the backseat with him.

“I feel like we're going to get into some trouble tonight.” Johnny says while downing his third shot early into the night. “When is a night with you not trouble?” gaz says to the two men smiling widely.

“When is a night with me not fun you mean.” Johnny says with a devilish smirk.

“Chaos you mean?.” Simon quips.

“All of those sound like a good time to me.” Johnny says while waving down the bartender again.

—------

“You’ll be approaching married life soon.” Johnny says with slightly slurred speech.

“Indeed I will.” It makes a tipsy drunk Simon smile as he lifts the bottom of his mask to take a swig of the whiskey in his glass.

“Think you’ll be having little ones running around soon?” gaz asks, he could see the big scary ghost with a daughter or two. Simon smoothens his mask before talking.

“Maybe, me and miss talk about it sometimes but nothing ever too serious, she’d make a great mum though.” The boys love just how in love he is with you.

“Will you name one of em after me?” Johnny asks.

“Funny joke mate.” They all laugh.

“Lass we’ll take another round.” heads snap towards him.

“Johnny!” Both simon gaz exclaim their nearly 8 shots in each and a couple of other drinks the result of tonight's starting to sound like alcohol poisoning.

“What’s wrong with a little fun once in a while.”

—---------

“I miss my wife.” Simon says, eyes glossed over and a severe need to taste your mouth. 

“Will we be throwing you a bachelor party?” Simon scoffs.

“This is my bachelor party, enjoy it.” Johnny groans at his awfully boring best lad.

“I have to take a piss be back.” Johnny says, excusing himself. Gaz and simon give each other a look knowing full well he went to the mens room less than ten minutes ago.

“What’s that about?” Gaz asks.

“Don't know but ima text the missus to come save me.” Simon says whipping out his phone instantly happier by the picture of you on his lock screen.

After sending you a quick text he agrees to one more round as Johnny rejoins, what he doesn't notice is as he tossed his head back Johnny slipped his phone into the back pockets of his jeans mistaking it for his own.

“Why do you look like that?” Gaz questions the mischievous smirk on Johnny's face.

“No reason.” 

“Oh no johnny what’d you do.'' They follow his eyeline as a woman, definitely a hooker walk from the hall where the bathrooms are definitely heading towards them. 

“Hey boys.” she says, running a hand down Simon's chest.

—----------

You’ve tried simons phone nearly six times now and nearly circled this block three times to let him know you’re here. You call once more groaning loudly as the voicemail starts once again. You search the busy street for parking, getting lucky as a car pulls out from the front of the pub.

You step out into the chilly london air not caring to pay for parking this shouldn't be long anyways. It's busier than you’d ever seen it, you wrap your arms tightly around yourself considering you're in thin pajamas, Simon emits too much heat to sleep in anything else.

Finding your way to the bar knowing where they usually sit you keep your eyes peeled for him excited to get him home and finish what he started earlier. That's until you see him. You see her first actually, snaking her hands around the back of his clothed head where yours were merely hours ago. His eyes are pointed towards her breast as she puts on quite the show, grinding slowly on his lap, flicking her tongue out onto his cloth covered ear. Simon’s hazed eyes are seeing you, like a dual reality that goes back and forth between a random woman and the woman he loves. Words are unable to leave your mouth so you stand there in utter horror until reality catches up to you.

“Simon.” your voice comes out in a whisper as the three men's heads turn towards you. The woman who looked like she’d been having a good time on Simon's lap also looks towards you, then the ring on your finger. The three of them had never become sober so fast in their lives.

“Oh god.” you feel sick, turning around quickly and bee lining for the door as your eyes tunnel vision.

“Get off me.” Simon says awfully harshly as Gaz looks disappointed towards johnny.

He’s after you in seconds, strides long and quick. You're at an arm's length when he tries to pull you back but misses by a thread. Times moving in slow motion for the both of you and this pub has never been so large.

“Wait, I swear that wasn't what it looked like.” His deep and loud voice causes the other patrons to look your way. Gaz and Johnny are steps behind him as he rushes as quickly as he can.

When the outside hits you, so do the tears. Your hand grips weakly at the spot of your shirt above your heart. It feels like the wind has been knocked from you and the world is crumbling around you. 

“Love i swear-” you turn around quickly slapping him across the face. It stuns you but not him; he simply looks back towards you.

“Deserved that.” 

“Lass it was a dumb joke i thought id-” 

“You were supposed to have my back, you guys are like my brothers, is this how it is everytime you come out?” a sob racks through you as they all visibly watch your heart break.

“It's not like that.” Simon tries to calmly explain.

“I'm leaving.” you say slowly walking backwards towards your car getting in quickly and locking the doors before your fiance can try the handle.

“Love, just listen to me i didn't know what was going on.” he shouts through the window as you start pulling out and speeding off as soon as possible.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” he yells to johnny.

“I don't know what I was thinking.” he admits as his drunk actions hit his sober self.

“You need to get a ride home now.” gaz says walking into the street to hail down an overly expensive taxi.

Simon gets in it immediately telling the man your address and slipping him a few extra hundred for speed. His breath is rapid matching the racing pace of his heart. The two other men watch as he leaves.

“You’re so fucked mate.” Gaz says to an already guilty looking johnny.

—--------------------

Simon nearly tears off the door handle as he exits the car almost two homes ahead and runs there instead. He’s fumbling keys until he realizes you’ve left the door unlocked. Instantly he's searching for you, panicked and in a hurry to soothe your aching heart.

He goes to reach for your shut bedroom door only to realize it's locked. He knocks rapidly once then twice.

“Love let me explain. I swear it's not what it looked like.” he leans his head against the door as you silently cry on the other side.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” wrong choice of words but he meant well.

Before he knows it you're throwing the door open.

“To myself!” you yell as loudly as you can, shoving your hands into his solid chest.

“That's not what I meant.” he says, removing the mask.

“We’re engaged Simon, we were going to get married in a few months.” you cry turning around trying to slam the door on him.

“Were ? No, let me explain.” he says, catching it with the toe of his boot.

“I don't want to hear it, go tell it to whoever that woman was.” you’re infuriating he wants to scream but he knows all hell would break loose had he caught you in the same position.

“Johnny had hired her, I had no idea.” he gets out as quickly as possible.

“And you let her dance and lick on you and hold you the way I hold you.” the disgust on your face as you look at him cuts deeper than any knife.

“I was drunk.” he even thinks that sounds disgusting.

“Cheap fucking excuse.” you say going into your closet grabbing all your clothes and throwing it onto the bed.

“What’re you doing?” it's hushed and laced with panic.

“Leaving.” 

“Like hell you are.” he says quickly, fighting to pull what's in your hands out of them. You’re unwilling to give up at first, grip tighter than ever but he would always win. You fall to the ground and let go. Crying from hurt and frustration. He drops to his knees to meet you on the floor.

He scoops you into his chest as closely as possible, it hurts that you don’t clutch onto him like you normally would. You Are stiff in his arms so visibly uncomfortable. He wants to cry too, he knew he shouldn’t have gone out there's no need when your heart is at home.

“Let go of me.” you say weakly.

“Lets talk.” he says, loosening his grip on you watching as you scurry backwards.

“Nothing you say can make this better.” you admit leaning your head against the wall behind you.

“It wasn't my idea or choice, my love I was wasted.”

“I was waiting outside for you, calling over and over again but you were just too busy being entertained by another woman, how fucking dare you.” you say quietly but firmly.

“I know I fucked up but we cant throw this away just cause one mishap.” he says trying to inch closer to you.

“I would’ve never done that to you.” you say as tears stream smoothly down your reddened cheeks.

“I know.” how does one forgive an action like this he wonders.

“Please get out.” you say through stuttered breaths.

“Love-” 

“Simon, get out or I'll leave.” He rises to his feet in an instance beginning to very slowly make his ways towards the door.

“Hey simon.” you say and his name sounds so rare on your tongue since you've met him he's always been riley or love.

“Yeah.” he says, approaching you crouching down slightly. You reach out, grabbing his hand and placing something into his palm before closing it.

Simon slowly opens his hands fearing what he already knows is there and utterly cringes inside when he sees your ring.

--------------

excited but ready for a little criticism, be easy on me I'm barley getting familiar with the character.

Hope you guys thoroughly enjoyed mwah!

[prettieinpink]

OPTIMISING THE SLEEP + MAXIMISING YOUR BEAUTY

This post is all about how to optimise your sleep and beauty at the same time <3 I hope everyone can use at least one tip today and apply it to their sleep routine.

Have a sleep schedule

it is ideal for us to sleep at the same time, and wake up at the same time everyday. This is so our bodies are producing what we need at given times, and healing us of any injuries without interruption + strengthening our circadian rhythm(regulates our alertness and sleepiness)

Create a good sleep environment

Before you go to sleep, make your room clean and wipe off any excess dust, a cluttered room makes for a cluttered mind. Turn off all lights and close curtains. Having a good sleep environment allows our body to shut down more easily.

Avoid caffeinated drinks and high sugar drinks before bed

Caffeinated drinks should not be consumed 4-6 hours before bedtime possible, which does include soft drinks. It keeps you alert, which causes trouble for your sleep. Sugary drinks before bed reduces the quality of your sleep.

Have time to wind down befor bed

Don’t do any high focus activity, or high intensity exercise before bed. Our body and minds need time to release the stresses and excess energy from the day. Reading, mindfulness, disconnecting from social media, journaling are some things we can do.

Avoid doing high focus activities, exercising and eating in your bed

Your brain should only associate your bed with sleeping or relaxing, or else it makes it harder for you to go to sleep easily.

Minimise naps during the day

This can contribute to any sleep complications, if you really do need to nap, keep it under an hour.

Sleep on your back

Sleeping on your side or stomach can cause asymmetry in your face. Plus, allowing your face to touch your pillowcase can cause acne because of bacteria.

Use a sleeping mask

Blocks out most of your sight, minimising the distractions in your sleep. Make sure it’s a comfortable one which you wash regularly, or it can cause acne.

Sleep using a silk pillowcase

Pure silk can be very beneficial for your skin and hair but also minimises the skin pulling on our faces.

Wash your face before snoozing

The excess residue and dirt on our face transfers to our pillowcase, which we use the next day and causes acne. + an unwashed face can lead to breakouts.

Sleep with a humidifier

For my dry skin girlies, a humidifier allows for your skin to stay moisturised during your sleep, to wake up to bright, glowing skin. This is really recommended, as we are getting into winter.

Brush your teeth before bed

This can help remove any prior food particles, protect from any bacteria and regularly doing this limits the ability for plaque to build up + bad breath is minimised in the morning

Use an overnight moisturiser

For my dry skin girlies, again, using a good overnight moisturiser can help keep your skin glowing throughout the night.

wearing a bonnet

Reduces having tangled, messy hair in the morning and protects your hair from too much friction. Silk/satin ones are recommended.

[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR ★彡PART 5

Prev. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: a lot of media attention and some solo time isn’t enough to keep paige away from you.

A/n: one more chap after this then we done 😛

YOU WAKE UP with a pounding headache, not as engulfing as last night but still enough to induce a groan as you lift your head from your pillow.

The hotel-white pillowcase is smeared with residual makeup and your hair feels tangled and unruly. It was surprising how well you slept, seeing as multiple things had happened the night before that should’ve kept you up till morning. You look around to see the hotel room is empty, then check your phone for the time. It’s 1:34pm, you’ve slept into the afternoon.

Your phone is absolutely filled with notifications.

JUJU-KINS😘

U up?

Coach is lit tweaking rn

U bouta be getting media trained FOR LIFE

ELAINEY 🤞

hey

can we talk pls?

ur only in town for a couple more days

it’s not as bad as it seems i swear

i was drunk

COACH

Call me when you see this message.

I hope you already know what you’ve done wrong so I don’t have to waste my time.

You’re smarter than this!

Collapsing on your bed again, you bury yourself in the sheets. Being in Connecticut had just turned out to be a nightmare, you’ve barely interacted with your teammates, your friendship with Elaine was ruined, you’ve had the most confusing relationship with Paige and you’ve made a fool of yourself online.

You shoot a quick text to Juju as well as some other teammates who’ve checked up on you, being sure to ignore Elaine’s texts. You find yourself re-reading your messages with Paige, thankfully your drunk brain hadn’t texted anything too out of pocket, and though you clearly remember her typing after your last message she hadn’t responded since then.

Your call with Coach was the most dreaded of all, you truly respected and feared her, so sitting through an almost half-hour phone call about your responsibilities, failures, expectations and repercussions was awful.

In short, you were to be off of social media until back in state, live privileges were fully revoked, if you were to be found partying and clubbing you’d be in massive trouble, you had to issue a statement on Instagram and twitter (which was pre-written by some professional), and the next practice you participate in will be the worst practice you’ve ever experienced in the history of bad practices. Most probably an insane amount of sprints.

You release your statements on Instagram and Twitter, but before deleting the apps you check out Paige’s comments. She’d obviously received a similar order. Her Instagram story consisted of a black screen and a small box of text, simply entailing how spreading love and positivity while uplifting other players is an obligation she intends to follow from this point onwards.

Her twitter had two new tweets:

paigebueckers1 : Me and (Name) have had some truly special experiences in college basketball. She’s an amazing player who is only gonna go higher and get better as she grows. When I was a junior I was stuck in crutches hoping for the chance I have now. (Name) as a junior herself is absolutely killing it on the court and I for one will always be rooting for her, competitive comments online or not. Keep doin what you’re doin @yourusername !

paigebueckers1 : God is good! 🙏

Turning your phone off, the only thing you’re thinking is ‘you’re so full of shit.’

You wonder if she wrote that herself or if somebody wrote it for her and made it seem like it was her own typing. Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore. You’d had your experience with the Big East Champion, and it was enough for a lifetime.

The amount of content coming out regarding you and Paige was insanely overwhelming. Debates online regarding your skills, looks, personality and basically anything the public can grasp were rampant. You and Paige had been a bit of a scandal ever since she shaded you on that panel, and the media had been seriously following you two back and forth between the seemingly friendly interactions and more hostile ones.

Eventually you stumble upon something different. A video of you and Paige in the background of KK and Ice’s live that day in the coffee shop. You can see yourself fumbling with napkins, and Paige approaching. It’s almost entrancing to see everything play out from another perspective, to see how her face eases into a smile at your smartass comments, to relive your own amused emotion at her stare, to watch Paige speedily write her number on a napkin before the camera shifts and the live ends.

You’re unsure how to react to all of this. No matter how close or far you could get with Paige, would it ever amount to anything? To the slightest bit of trust? Her lips were almost on yours that evening in the street, but just an hour earlier she had lied to your face about knowing Elaine.

You recall what Elaine drunkenly spat out during your argument outside the bar.

“N’ I’ll tell you what. She’s going to play your ass and you’re never gonna get over it, cus that’s what she does.”

Was this spoken out of experience, or a mixture of jealousy and intoxication? Had Elaine once been that girl on the street, inches away?

You can’t help but think it wasn’t the case. Paige bit her tongue around you to stifle a laugh or to hold back a rebuttal to your teasing. When it came to Elaine, Paige bit her tongue in a different way. A loathing way. You couldn’t explain it.

Plus, Elaine had said herself that you were not Paige’s usual type. If she meant you and her were not alike, that was the truth. You and Paige had more of a history, more similar lifestyles and experiences, more. At least you assumed so.

Finally, you decide you’ve done enough thinking for the day. It was time to line up some plans, maybe meet up with the team for a couple hours and then hoop solo in the evening. Anything to distract from the situation.

-

The sound of a basketball against the blacktop, the hollow bounce that always found itself back to your hand. It’s sustenance to you, it’s breathing.

Storrs had been blessed with a hotter Sunday then usual, even in your shorts and t-shirt you were sweating, shooting hoops the same way you’ve been doing since you were a child.

The court was empty and outdoors, perfect for you to hold the ball for a moment and admire the scenery, the changing colours of the sky as afternoon fades to evening.

You hear the bounce of a ball again, but yours is secured in your hand.

“Hey.”

You’re not surprised to see her. The sink in your stomach as you meet her eyes in almost predictable.

“What are the chances.” You scoff. “Don’t you have like, the entire UConn gym to hoop?”

“I come to this court all the time.” Paige narrows her eyes. “It’s usually peaceful.”

“I figured.” You say curtly, turning your head to see the setting sun. It was very peaceful, even with the impending silence between you and the blonde.

“How drunk were you last night?” Paige asks.

You spin around to give her a look. “Drunk enough to get on live,” You scoff. “but sober enough to read a text and send it without regrets.”

At the mention of your short conversation with Paige over text, you can see her cringe. She obviously hadn’t been expecting you to find out about her relationship with your friend, let alone be so upfront with it.

“I never fucked her in my car…just so you know.” She finally manages to breath out.

You almost bark out a laugh at this. “You think I’m mad cus you fucked her?” You ask, walking towards Paige and lightly dribbling the ball. She simply stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Are you not?”

“Is the blonde fucking seeping into your head?” You snap, mentally celebrating as her lips forms a straight line. “If you don’t know, you better figure it out.”

Paige brings a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead as if it’s aching. Her eyes are wide and analyzing you, thinking of the best way to respond.

“Go on,” you tease her. “tell me why I’m mad.”

You’re close to her now, too close for comfort. You can see her smile lines, her plush lips, her silver chain glinting beneath the black long sleeve she’s wearing. The sleeves are rolled up, and you can’t help but noticed how veiny her arms are, how her long fingers are holding the basketball against her body.

Biting her lip, Paige finally responds. “You’re mad because I lied.”

“Smart girl.” You scoff, almost choking on your breath when her jaw clenches at your comment. “I’m mad cus you lied to my face. And cus you went on live and shit talked me again for no reason.”

You and her stare at each other for a long moment before she breaks a smile. “That was my bad.” She murmurs. “I was uh, Ion’ know. I was in sum kinda mood.”

“The mood to lie?” You raise your eyebrow. “Or the mood to be a bitch?”

“Don’t call me a bitch.” She scowls, and you’re reminded of the last time you called her that, at the end of your game against UConn.

“That’s what you are, Bueckers.” You say with a smile, eyeing her down and getting in her face just a little more. “Bitches lie, bitches make problems out of nothing.”

Her eye is fiercely trained on you, on the way your lips move as you degrade her. You can’t tell what she’s thinking in the slightest.

“(Name), I’m sorry.” She says softly.

Once again you two are staring in silence. The proximity is intoxicating, you can practically smell her clean clothes.

“Are you still fucking Elaine?”

“Hell no.” Paige shakes her head furiously. “That ended a while ago. We haven’t talked in like months.”

“She still has your location.” You grumble. “That’s how she knew I was with you at the restaurant.”

“Shit.” Paige groans, immediately pulling out her phone. “She interrupted us on purpose then? Psycho.”

You watch as she turns off her location for Elaine and blocks her before slipping her phone back in her pocket.

“We didn’t hookup for long.” Paige says, obviously feeling the need to explain herself. “Jus a couple times. I broke things off, she couldn’t accept how busy my schedule was.”

You shrug, not knowing what to say.

“Guess she couldn’t accept you and me either, huh?” Paige smirks, shooting you a ‘forgive me’ type look.

Ignoring the swell in your heart at the stupid comment, you just chuckle and shake your head.

“Do you wanna 1v1?” She asks almost sheepishly.

You think for a moment.

“You sure I’m on your level?”

Paige looks embarrassed for a moment, remembering what she said on her live. “Quit playin.” She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, show me what you got.”

-

You’d be lying if you were to say you knew the score.

Was she taking score? You and Paige were equally insanely competitive, but this wasn’t a true test of skill. This was a test of endurance. A test to see who would break first.

You knew this when her hand grazed your waist as she darted past you to the other end of the court, or when she stared you down, tongue between her lips as she blocked your shot. You retaliated yourself, letting your hand linger a bit too long as you helped her up from the ground after tripping her up, or whistling at her as she makes another three.

The heavy breathing, the piercing stares, the cold air as the sun disappeared. You were in a zone you’d never been in before, somehow equally focused on the game and the girl.

You manage to steal the ball from Paige in a swift moment, but suddenly she’s in front of you again. Her hands dart for the ball, attempting to smack it out of your hand. She almost manages to steal it back, but your grip tightens just at the right moment.

She’s stuck to you, her hands attempting to pry the ball out of your own. You can hear her breath, you can see the beaded sweat on her forehead, you can feel her blue eyes watching you, watching your chest widen and shrink with every inhale and exhale, watching your lips.

It’s a replay of the college game that started all of this.

You struggle for a moment longer before the tousle is not longer controlled, the ball slips between both of your sweaty hands. You and Paige both scramble to save it, but it bounces out of your grasps and away from the court.

Neither of you chase after it.

She’s still up close to you, face flushed from the game.

“What was the score?” She huffs, out of breath. Paige’s voice is raspy and tired. You feel something spark inside of you.

“No clue.”

Paige’s face breaks into a small smirk as her hands find your waist, uncertain and soft, just barely ghosting your frame. “That was my ball.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, your heart hammering at the feeling of her eyes exploring every part of you, lingering on your lips before she finally leans in.

Paige’s lips are rough against yours, but fit perfectly as if moulded for your own. She melts into you, her hands finally tightening around your body, her face tilting just right so she can finally taste you. It’s something you didn’t know you’d been waiting for. She kisses with a million emotions, with urgency, passion and the slightest bit of control. It’s electrical.

When you need to break the kiss to breath, you simply tug on her ponytail. You were not expecting the slight whimper as your lips part.

“M’ not done.” She mutters against you, catching her breath.

“I want you, P.” You whisper, looking up at her. Paige’s face immediately changes at this, lips tilting upward in an annoyingly charismatic way.

“I know you do, baby.” She murmurs. “Let me take you home.”

[deadhands69]

Something More [than an extra]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn afab reader

MDNI

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers (with a lot in between.)

Warnings, etc: sex (multiple positions mentioned, slightly intoxicated sex), drinking, swearing, angst if you squint. This is the smuttiest one of the series :)

part 1  -  part 2  -  part 3  -  part 4   -  part 5  -  this is part 6  -  part 7 - part 8

You and Mina sit at the window watching Kirishima and Sato spend over an hour clearing the snow from around the building before Todoroki rolled out of bed at 11am and finished the job in 10 seconds flat. You haven't told her what happened last night, but the way she keeps looking at you tells you she somehow already knows.

“Soo are you going to tell me about your night??”

“My night?” you ask, as innocently as you can.

“Yeah, I was in Kiri’s room,” she states simply, before making it more clear: “they're neighbors.”

“I- Oh,” there’s no use denying it. You make a mental note to ask her about her own night being in a boys room that late, but you know she won’t let you dodge the question.

“I'm still not sure how I feel about it,” you rub where he bit the back of your shoulder while staring out the window. “It was fun and I guess it's good to let off some steam. But it's weird. Last week I hated him,” you laugh. 

“Things change!” Mina smiles, “no one said you had to hate him forever. And if he makes you happy, I'm glad you're enjoying it.”

“It was fun but knowing him, it's not happening again. I don't think he does that sort of thing. Besides, I thought you called him a red flag? When did that change?”

“For most people, he is. Don’t tell Jiro I said this, but I think you guys would be really cute together!” her cheerfulness giving you unwanted twinges of hope.

“It’s really not like that,” you assure her, mostly reminding yourself.

A one time thing.

32 Days Later

A one time thing? Yeah, right. you laugh thinking back on the last month. 

It’s mid-February and you find yourself in that same corner of the common room on a late Saturday morning. Your friends are both absent - you’d helped them pick outfits for their dates last night so you know they’re both in their rooms getting ready. Mina and Kirishima had been dating for a month (or longer? None of you were quite sure when that started and they wouldn't explicitly say.) Kaminari had only worked up the courage to ask Jiro on a date two days ago. You’re excited for them both and also happy for the morning to quietly reflect on life: something you haven’t had time for recently.

Taking a sip of coffee, you think of when you told Mina about Katsuki Bakugo the first time. It feels strange now, knowing you’ve spent more nights with him than not since then. At this point, it's almost a routine. 

It always starts the same.

Sometime between 8 and 10pm, he texts you. “Hey.” “You up?” Once he just texted “🍆?”, he’s lucky that one made you laugh. 

Rain or shine, any time of the month - it didn’t matter. Like clockwork, you’d almost come to expect it. At this point, you’ve stopped changing into your pajamas, knowing there’s no point when you will most likely be changing back into clothes to walk across the building in anyways. 

Usually, you go to his room. Occasionally, he’ll come to yours. 

Sometimes the two of you will pretend to watch a movie or other things friends do together, but you always know where it’ll lead. 

Within twenty minutes, he’s grabbing your hair with his tongue buried in your mouth. Shortly after that, whether you're standing or on the bed, he's pressing into you from behind - one hand wrapped around you, the other still tangled in your hair. 

Your phone vibrates in front of you, some social media notification. Pulling it up, your whole feed is pink and full of hearts. 

Only now did you realize it’s Valentine’s day. How had that not come up at all while helping your friends pick outfits?

Maybe it did, you've always blocked this stupid holiday out. 

Doesn't matter, you think to yourself. Not like you're spending it with anyone. It'll be just another day, with any luck a quiet one. 

And it is. 

You spend the next six hours in your usual spot, working your way through a book. At some point, you realize you'd been trying to read the same paragraph for twenty minutes but your mind keeps drifting off. 

Back to him.

Always back to him. 

Privately, he's not as explosive as you'd known him before. That's not to say he's particularly gentle either. 

The way his hands grip your hips, pulling you into him while he pounds you from behind. You're almost always covered in slight bruises but you notice he's careful to avoid grasping the darker ones.

How his teeth find your lips in every kiss. At first you found this weird, now you've come to expect it. Feeling a rush seeing him grin in public, knowing exactly what those teeth do to you. 

How hard (and often) he makes you cum. You've spent hours in his room where he'd fuck you until you could barely stand - your body convulsing under his touch, pressed tightly against him. His hands holding you from collapsing into a puddle on the floor. 

All that, then you'd leave. Not that you always wanted to. Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to fall asleep with him, his strong arms wrapped around you as he breathes gently into the back of your neck. 

Of course, he’d never explicitly asked you to leave, but you understand the situation well enough to know when it’s time to go. So does he.

Maybe it's the lingering cold weather making you want for more coziness or maybe this stupid holiday got to you. Today, you find yourself wanting more than what it is. 

Eventually, you go back to your dorm room. Still thinking about him. 

You know Bakugo isn’t busy on a date, he doesn’t do stuff like that (plus, you spent most of the day in the common space watching everyone come and go so you’re almost certain he didn’t leave his room today.) Your expectations for hearing from him are low though - you also understand that he probably doesn’t want to text his fuck buddy to come over on a romantic holiday and give the wrong impression. The clock strikes ten and you change into sweatpants to get ready for bed.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Rushing to the door, you hope it’s not one of your friends after a bad date. To your surprise it’s- 

“Bakugo, hi?” your voice is tentative and a bit confused. To be honest, you don't mind seeing him at your door on Valentine's day you just didn't expect to. 

“Hey Backfire, I figured you’d be awake. You always stay up way too late,” he grumbles before glancing down at the open bottles of champagne in his hands. They're two different brands. “Uh, my friends opened these with their dates before they left and dropped off the leftovers outside my door.” He presses the more full bottle into your hands before taking a swig off the other, “drink it, I’m not finishing these on my own.”

You laugh, gesturing him in. 

He isn't quite drunk but his cheeks are more flushed than usual, making the scar under his eye stand out. It's cute, in a rough way. Like him. 

Taking a sip, you check out the label. It’s fancy, pink, and tastes sweet. You would guess Kirishima bought this one to impress Mina.

Bakugo is working through a bottle of Cooks; that has Kaminari written all over it. 

Curiously, you tell him your guesses. 

“That is correct,” he lays on your bed, one foot folded over his knee with the hand holding the bottle resting over the edge. “Soy Sauce Face left some too but I finished that one before I walked over.”

“Wait, Sero is on a date?” you can’t help but laugh a bit, he’s nice but you can't really picture it.

“Yeah, all those dumbasses were really excited for this stupid holiday,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s fine - free champagne for us,” you say, trying to steer the conversation out of the awkward direction you could see it heading. Sitting on the bed beside him, you bring the bottle back to your lips. 

There's a momentary pause, but that's okay with him. He's just quiet sometimes. It's funny, you weren't really sure when you even became friends but now you know all of his little conversational habits. 

“Yeah, idiots.” he says finally. 

The conversation flowed easier from there. Both of you agreeing it's a bad excuse for a holiday (although, you are excited for day-after candy sales.) You talk about school and the classes you're each taking. He tells you about his hero work. Before you know it, you're sharing childhood stories. The two of you end up talking about life for what feels like twenty minutes, but the clock on your desk indicates it's well past midnight. 

Bakugo is quiet again. There's nothing but the sound of people giggling outside in the distance and your favorite band playing at a low volume. It's comfortable. He's scrunched up on your bed, head resting on on his arm while he gazes out the window. The dim light from your small lamp illuminates his face perfectly. His resting face looks angelic, a fact that used to make you cringe but now it gives you other ideas. 

Leaning over, you tip his jaw towards you to press your lips onto his. He tastes sweet. Kissing him gently, you wish you could stay like this all night but you aren't sure if that would be okay in your arrangement. So, you push for more. You climb over his lap to straddle him. Normally, he's the one in charge but he doesn't seem to mind this. His big ruby eyes peering up at you, slightly glazed over from the champagne. 

This time feels different. The way he kisses you is less frantic. Still passionate, but not as rushed as usual. 

Rolling your hips into him, his hands slide down your back to press you down harder. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, grinding into him with all of your weight. He arches his hips into you, still gripping your lower back. 

God, his eyes are so fucking beautiful when he looks up at you like that. 

His hands glide up your back, taking your shirt with them. You do the same, pulling off his hoodie and tank top like you've wanted to most of the night. The skin to skin contact feels warm as he drags you back down to keep making out with him. 

Eventually, he rolls you onto your bed and sits back on his legs. Your fingers trace his now apparent bulge, his cock painfully straining to be released from the sweatpants and boxer briefs confining it. He removes both. You follow suit, throwing your own clothes over the edge of the bed. 

Normally, he'd prep you with his fingers but you've been grinding against him for half an hour now and you're desperate for release. 

Crawling over your bed, you reach into your bedside table for a condom. Bakugo is already behind you, continuing the friction you'd built up all night. 

His hand reaches to take it from you but you're feeling bold. There's something you've always wanted to try. 

Ripping the wrapper off, you put the latex to your mouth - sucking the tip in. It doesn't taste great but is so worth the mild aversion to see the look on his face when you wrap your lips around his dick and slide the condom over his length. Jaw still slack, he stares down at you in amazement before letting out a half laugh. The subtle light glints on the tips of his teeth. 

Regaining composure, he shoves you back onto your bed. The sheets feel cool in contrast to his warm body climbing over you. 

“You sure you're ready,” he murmurs into your ear, “I can-”

“Need you in me now,” you whisper back, lining him up with you. 

He nods. 

With a grunt, he shifts closer and presses into you. You feel yourself expand, clenching around him while he begins to move. 

He stays close. Arms wrapping around yours, caging you to the bed while the skin of his stomach softly grazes yours. Your hands find his back, scratching lines over his scars to pull him closer. You want to last longer but the build up is too much. 

Pleasure surges through your body; you feel it rush all the way down to your toes. You're riding it out, gasping into his chest while you feel yourself fluttering around him. He follows quickly, throwing his face into your shoulder. 

His voice is breathy as he presses his lips into your neck.

“[y/n]”

part 7

m.list

Taglist: @anonymity-222 @k1tk4tkatsuki @arsonfrogger @dragonscribble @kalulakunundrum

@screaming-dough @rikislove

[vanteguccir]

Randomly kissing bsf! Matt/ Chris

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb - kissing your best friend

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

The sun had set hours ago, casting the room in a cozy, dim light from the lamp on Chris's desk. The sounds of a video game drifted through the air, a familiar backdrop to the countless nights Y/N had spent at Chris's place. His fingers moved deftly over the keyboard, eyes fixed on the screen, a determined look etched on his face.

Y/N lay on Chris's bed, her phone in hand as she mindlessly scrolled through social media. She glanced up occasionally, watching him with a mix of affection and longing. They had been best friends for years, sharing everything from their deepest secrets to the silliest jokes. But lately, her feelings had shifted, growing into something more profound and more complicated.

She sighed softly, her heart aching with unspoken words. She loved him, and it terrified her. Every time she considered telling him, a voice in her head reminded her of the risk. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if she ruined their friendship? The thought was unbearable.

Chris's laughter pulled her from her thoughts.

"You should have seen that, Y/N! It was epic!" He exclaimed, turning briefly to flash her a wide grin.

She smiled back, her heart fluttering at the sight of his happiness.

"I bet it was." She replied, though she had no idea what had just happened in the game.

Minutes turned into hours, and Y/N felt the weight of her emotions growing heavier. She couldn’t keep hiding her feelings forever. She had to do something, anything, to let him know. The thought of never knowing his true feelings was worse than the fear of rejection.

Gathering her courage, Y/N took a deep breath and sat up, her heart pounding in her chest. She swung her legs off the bed and stood up, feeling the soft carpet under her feet. She walked over to Chris, who was still engrossed in his game, and hesitated for a moment.

"Chris?" She called softly, her voice trembling slightly.

He paused the game and turned to her, his eyes filled with concern.

"Hey, what's up? You okay?" His voice sounded so soft and worried.

Without a word, she took a step closer, her hands reaching out to cup his face. Chris's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he searched her eyes, trying to understand what was happening.

"Y/N, what-" He began, but she silenced him by leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

For a moment, the world stood still. Then it started moving again.

The kiss was soft and tentative at first, their lips barely touching as if testing the waters. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. She pressed closer, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, feeling the soft strands between her fingers.

Chris's initial shock melted away as he moved his chair back from the desk, the wheels gliding over the carpet. He reached up, gently pulling off his headphones and letting them drop to the floor with a soft thud, not caring about the game or the noise at all. His hands found her waist again, pulling her closer until she was straddling his lap.

Chris's hands moved from her waist to her back, pulling her even closer. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, and she shivered at the sensation. Their lips moved together in a slow, deliberate dance, exploring and savoring each moment.

The kiss deepened, their mouths opening to allow their tongues to meet, tentatively at first, then more boldly. Y/N felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her as their tongues touched, sliding against each other in a sensual rhythm. Her breathing grew heavier, her senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, a mix of mint and something uniquely Chris. She could feel his breath against her skin, hot and urgent, matching her own escalating desire.

Chris's hands roamed up her back, then down again, finding their way under her shirt to rest on the small of her back. His touch was gentle but possessive, his fingers pressing into her skin as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her. He angled his head, deepening the kiss further, and she felt his teeth lightly grazing her lower lip, sending a shiver down her spine.

Y/N's hands moved from his hair to his face, cupping his cheeks as she poured all her love and longing into the kiss. She could feel the stubble he hadn't done in days on his jaw, rough against her palms, a stark contrast to the softness of his lips.

Their kiss became more fervent, their tongues dueling and exploring. Chris's hands slid down to her hips, gripping them firmly as he pulled her even closer. She could feel the hard planes of his body against her, the heat between them growing more intense. Her heart raced, and she felt a thrilling mixture of nervousness and excitement.

He broke the kiss momentarily, resting his forehead against hers, both of them panting for breath.

"Angel..." He whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I've wanted to do that for so long."

She blinked, her now wide eyes looking up at his blue ones.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. I love you, Y/N. I've loved you for a long time." He nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Her heart soared at his words, the weight of her fears lifting.

"I love you too, Chris." She confessed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "So fucking much... I was so scared."

He pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as if he never wanted to let go.

"I was too. I was so afraid of ruining our friendship." He admitted, his voice muffled against her hair. "But now that I know you feel the same, I can't believe I waited this long."

They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside fading away. It was just the two of them, and the love they had both kept hidden for so long.

Chris pulled back slightly, his hands resting on her thighs. He looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with warmth and affection.

"I hope this is not a dream." He laughed slightly, squeezing her covered skin softly between his fingers.

"It isn't, I promise." She whispered, smiling widely.

He leaned in to kiss her again, this time slower and more deliberate, savoring the moment.

[ilovejoostklein]

HAIII, sorry if this is confusing, but can i request joost with a reader who is like... a TERRIBLE social reject but also makes music... they dread doing concerts, releasing full albums, and interviews but they still do it for their career?...

hii, yes ofc <3

-

Bed Peace

You’re an anxious singer and your boyfriend Joost comforts you the morning of one of your shows

sfw: fluff, light angst

-

You lay tangled in the bed of your hotel room with Joost. You grimaced at the empty bottles and shot glasses littering the coffee table, the headache from your hangover squeezing your head and pinching the back of your eyes making you more miserable than you felt last night. Your body was destroyed with fatigue and from the two-hour concert you’d had last night, ears still aching from the sounds of the music and screaming fans. You dreaded the fact of knowing what the day held in store for you today. 

It was only moments like these that brought you true happiness, your boyfriend sleeping peacefully behind you with his strong arms around your waist. He was always so calm. He was like a pond, still and beautiful, nothing ever disrupting his mood that always seemed to be cheerful, and if he wasn’t it was still always so contained and rational. You didn’t know what to compare yourself to, a riptide, a never-ending storm that could only be lulled into security with substances and the presence of your sweet boyfriend who put up with your worries. 

Joost woke up when he felt your heartbeat against his hands. It was certainly a strange way to wake up, and incredibly alarming to see that you were already so distraught first thing in the morning. It was crushing to see you this way, he tried whatever he could and still, he felt like a failure. Since you’d been together you’d turned him into a better person, he felt the difference every day when life had slowed down and everything felt and appeared more beautiful. He wished that he could do that for you, but he was beginning to realize that the issue was far bigger than you both. 

“You’re always up before me.” His voice was still groggy with sleep, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “We overdid it last night, hm?”

You didn’t respond, staring at the empty bottles under the exposing morning night you couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed. You felt Joost kiss your cheek, putting his fingers underneath your chin so that you’d face him. 

“I think you have to get up soon.” He dreaded saying it as much as you did. “Big day today.”

You groaned, rolling over so that you’d be able to bury your face into his chest. You breathed him in, he still smelled faintly of the body wash he always traveled with which somehow calmed your nerves. 

“I wish I could cancel the stupid fucking interview.” Your profanity made him chuckle, bringing you closer into his arms. “Do you think I can?”

“For the second time?” Joost asked, his voice gently suggesting you to be more rational. “It’s short, and you’ll do a good job like always.”

Even if you were media trained to the point you felt like a circus animal, you abhorred nothing more than doing pointless interviews and touring. You tried to avoid falling into more dangerous substances, facing it all head-on, and by the end, you were dizzy and overcome with anxiety. You’d always been so anti-social, it was a miracle that you had someone like Joost who was effortlessly charming and sociable. You wished that you could take some of it for yourself. 

“I hate it.” You mumbled, glancing at the clock on the wall realizing that you didn’t have too much time. 

“I know, baby.” He said, kissing you. “But you love to sing, and I love it too, so it’ll be worth it.”

“It’s easy for you.” You retorted. “You know I just want to sing and do nothing else.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” You frowned hearing his tone shift into something more serious, forcing him to be the voice of reason. “Your career isn’t like mine.”

He was right. Your career was much more serious than his. It wasn’t that Joost was careless, but he could be himself and have fun with his career while you couldn’t. You wished it was the same way for you, even knowing you couldn’t be half as charming if you tried.

You wanted to stay with Joost in bed all day. You held him closer, expecting him to pressure you to get up again, but you felt him give into you when he pulled you atop his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you two stayed embracing each other in silence for a while. 

You hoped that Joost would fall asleep, giving you an excuse to do the same and blame him when you’d inevitably wake up and realize you’d missed the interview. You propped yourself up only to make direct eye contact. Your face flushed with anxiety, forcing yourself to smile to try to dull the intensity you felt. 

“How badly do you not want to go?” Joost suddenly asked the blush on your cheeks now feeling unbearable. 

You stifled the tears forming in your eyes. Joost cared about you so much, no matter how stubborn and self-deprecating you could be he was always so gentle. You felt his hands cup your face, his thumb smoothing down on your cheek tenderly. 

“I don’t want to.” You mumbled. “I just want to stay here with you, before my show.”

“Ok then, liefde.” He whispered, bringing your head forward to kiss your nose. “Oh no.” He said in a concerned tone.

“What is it?” You asked, feeling your heart rate pick up. Your anxiety was always set off so easily. “Joost.” You pressed.

“You feel really warm.” You realized he was being sarcastic, feeling a smile form on your face. “I think I have to call your manager m’en meisje is getting sick.”

You watched in relief as he grabbed his phone from your shared nightstand and sent a text to your manager, turning his phone to show their quick response. You could feel their annoyance through the message, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. The relief felt almost invigorating, your anxieties and worries melting away all at once knowing that you could spend the rest of the afternoon in bed with your boyfriend. 

“I love you, Joost.” You said sweetly, kissing him over and over again on his cheek. “You’re the best, I’m serious.”

“I’m just selfish.” He chuckled, kissing you back, “I want to keep you with me all the time.”

“I wish.” You said a bit solemnly, knowing that the time would quickly pass as it always did when you were happy. “I’m glad you’ll be at my show at least.”

“I’m your biggest fan.” He pinched your cheek lovingly. 

You settled into your boyfriend’s arms, the safety and unconditional love soothing your heart completely. You wished that you could love your career, not just the act of singing. You wished you could grow to love the process of waking up before the sun to write and record songs for hours every day until your entire body ached with boredom. You didn’t know what you would do without Joost, he was your person in all of this. 

“I really love you, Joost.” You mumbled, feeling both of you slowly getting taken away by sleep again. “I’m so lucky.”

“I love you more.” You could hear him getting more tired, it was cute. “And I’m luckier.”

“You’re falling asleep again?” You whispered, trying to keep the calmness of the room. 

“Mhm.” He hummed, his eyes still shut. “You should rest too, you’re sick remember?”

-

ya’ll i hope i’m using these dutch words right… hope u enjoyed

[inupibaldspot]

You’re jealous?

Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Yuta is jealous over you and Rafayel, a game character.

A Saturday night spend quiet was normal for you and Yuta; both in bed legs tangled with breathing in sync. Yuta usually stays on his phone playing some random game — or it’s multiplayer then with Inumaki; while you scroll through social media.

But in today’s case something was different, not getting out of bed through that part stays but you were on your phone playing a game which has been on your ‘for you page’ for a while now; love and deep space.

You downloaded the otome game out of pure curiosity but now— now you were hooked. A character in particular had all your affection, Rafayel. Why? He was just so so funny and sassy.

Yuta ,completly in the dark on his girlfriend literally being swept of her feet by a game character, let’s out a sigh of relief as the match finally came to an end. The word ‘victory’ plastered on the screen.

“Baby, look.” Yuta’s soft voice breaks the silence as he shows his screen to you. “I got match mvp.”

His eyebrows furrowed, almost worried, when you paid no attention to his words. “Oh.” He says to himself when he noticed you had your earphones on.

Yuta smiles as he gently pokes your thighs which finally grabs your attention so he once again shows off his screen. “I got mvp… Inumaki-kun got bronze.” He laughs.

He watched you gaze at his screen and smiles. “That’s nice.” You say and then looks back into your screen.

Huh? That’s nice…? That’s it…? Yuta thinks confused. Where were his praises and kisses peppered all over his face? That’s what you usually did. Yuta looks over to see that you had a smile plastered on his face, almost giddy with a blush on your cheeks. Just what got you so flustered?

Silently, he makes his way closer to you as he peers over your screen. He notices a game character with dark hair whose mouth was moving as if he was saying something; but whatever that character said made you giggle.

Yuta feels his stomach churn with uncontrollable jealousy so he decided then and there he needed all of his lover’s attention. He starts off my leaning his head into your neck, which makes you raise your hand and place it on his head; playing with his hair.

But that wasn’t enough. Yuta wanted all of your attention.

He wraps his arms around your waist, lips turned into a pout looking like a kicked puppy.

When you still wasn’t looking at him, he changes tactics.

Yuta props himself up and he brings his lips near your ears as he places small kisses and then proceeds to take tiny nibbles there. “Y-Yuta…” You stammer.

Not enough.

His lips drop to your neck and then to your shoulders, leaving small trail of red marks while he brings his fingers up to pull down the small strap of your top, making the material fall.

Yuta lips curl to a satisfied smile when you finally put down your phone; your focus entirely on him.

You swallow, face heat up and breathing heavy. “Yuta… Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” You smile when you see your boyfriend pink, and he looks away from you. How cute.

“It’s just a game character, love.” You giggle. “Just a name character called Rafayel.”

“Don’t say another man’s name…”

In a swift moment, you were pinned down on you back as Yuta climbs over your. Before you could question anything, Yuta places open mouth kisses all over your neck. “And could a game character do this?” Gone was the sweet tone your boyfriend always used on you.

“N-no…” You manage to squeak out. “Only you can do that to ngh—ah! me, Yuta.”

His head falls on your shoulder placing his lips against your collarbones, the up your neck again until your lips are together, desperate. You were writhing below him and that overjoyed him.

Yuta let’s out a hoarse laugh as his fingers now tap on the waistband of your pant, his breath hot on your ears. “I’ll show you something else, that Rafayel can’t do.”

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk--------

-and remember my coffee order.

p12 to Just don't talk

summary: First outing in public, as the two don't even try to hide that they're in love with each other.

As far as bizarre goes, this meeting was up there at the top, yet again.

The comms team had a big chart put up in the meeting room, with timelines, platforms, twists and turns - it was like watching someone explain a plot for some movie script. This is where you'll be spotted kissing for the first time, this is when you post a photo with a family member, this is when you'll go on a vacation together (faked, obviously) and this is when you'll part on separate vacation and soft launch your break up - and this is your break up note for social media. It was funny, yet a little overwhelming.

"Obviously, this will be adapted as we move forward. As you can see here on the next slide, these are the numbers we are setting as our targets. The amount of revenue generated by this will be affecting the schedule," the assistant presenting this seemed to have a little too much fun with it, up to the point when Lando thought they were getting off on it. He saved his comments - why would he stir the pot too much? Now that he has what he wanted. This is just a charade that they will have to get through. And if all goes according to their plan, all of the people making these presentations will be very surprised one day. He was sort of looking forward to wiping their smiles off.

"talk about romance," Y/N texted Lando secretly. He chuckled and shared a look with her, as if to say "we got this".

The numbers part was where it reached the peak of weird. The pair sat, watching people calculating how much money they will make out of them sharing few kisses in public and estimating how much will this affect their marketability.

Y/N had few issues with their plan. Mainly, it seemed to avoid anything really personal. As if a relationship was only about sharing a holiday and flaunting around with family pictures. She for one hated this part and made it very clear that no family of hers will be involved. But where were the shared streams, the dinner dates and shared hotel rooms? If this was a blueprint of their relationship, then it would have been a very shit one. But then again, this was the fake dating public part - they could not control what they did in their own real relationship. But she really hoped it would not be like that.

//

Their first public scheduled public outing - a very simple coffee run together, no hiding, little cute chat and holding hands. Those were the instruction they'd received.

It was one of the rare free days between races. She woke up at his place after spending first stressless night with him after few hard days. They both woke up early, still processing the time difference.

"Hello, sunshine," he whispered, as they laid side by side, legs tangled together. He watched her attentively, studying her face as she let a smile out upon hearing him.

"I don't wanna get up," she mumbled and wiggled her way deeper into his embrace. "Let's just stay here, like this."

She was just too cute to resist, stuck somewhere between sleep and awake. So honest and unguarded. Lando hasn't felt this relaxed in years. He held her tightly as her breath tickled him in his chest.

"I'd love nothing more that to stay here, my dear. But we gotta go out today, remember?"

"But it's just so comfortable here, please," she set her voice higher than usual, as if to convince him to skip school with her.

"Don't be a little tease, otherwise I'll never get anything done ever again," he joked and pulled away a bit in order to give her few pecks on her cheek.

"I'm a tease? What a double standard," she remarked curiously, as she traced his morning wood with her fingers.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather all the morale he had in him. "I can't exactly control that," he said heavily.

"I like it. Can you be my breakfast?" she asked, suddenly full of life. She abruptly sat up on him and demonstratively licked her lips, morning hair all tangled up, no clothes or make up on. How was he supposed to resist that? She smirked as she saw his determination leave and went on to suck him off while holding his hand.

His moans were louder that what she used from him. It was like entering a different room this time. A very pretty one.

//

"Did I ever tell you that you have really beautiful eyes?" she asked all of a sudden, as they were heading towards his fridge for a premade breakfast.

He looked at her as he opened the door. "I don't think so," he answered shyly. She could melt right then and there.

Lando took out two chai bowls and put them on his table. All very casual and comfortable.

She took her first spoon and immediately noticed her favorite smell. "My chef always skips on cinnamon. He believes it's bad for the gut."

"Do you not like it?" he asked, worried he unintentionally fucked up.

She licked her spoon, reminiscing of having his cock in her mouth just moments ago. "No, I really love it. Miss it, actually."

"You need to get a different chef, what kind of a bullshit is that?"

"Life is full of bullshit, Lando."

"Well aren't you a philosopher," he teased her once again.

They made sure to be at the top of their game. Tried on few outfits, trying to find something that might fit them both, Y/N being in her full on follicular phase and focusing more on removing the outfits from him, rather than putting them on. He acted annoyed, but was over the moon she finds him attractive as well. Once they finally rolled out his apartment, they were quite sight to see.

"Do you realize we did not decide on the most important thing," she said as Lando casually walked over to the driver's seat of one of his cars.

"Hm?"

She gave him a look instead of speaking, letting him figure it out on his own.

He was usually quite oblivious to these hints, but this one dropped fast.

"Absolutely not."

"I share your sentiment, absolutely not. I know how you drive, Lando."

"More podiums than you, so I get the driver's privileges. Stop overthinking and get it the car."

It was a matter of principles - she was not going to let them fall into relationship stereotypes automatically. And also she just did not accept other people driving, making her awfully similar to Lando.

"Have we never sat in a car together before?" he lost track a bit, trying to recall any other time they'd share a car.

"Nope."

It was becoming a stare down at this point. Neither of them backing down.

"My car is parked nearby. We can go separately," she bargained, waiting for him to back off. But he saw right through her, his ego not letting him get her away with that.

He replied without blinking. "Sure. Why the hell not." She wanted him to back down and he wanted the same from her. "Do you want me to drive you to your car?"

He was mocking her and she was not having it.

"Nope, just text me the location and we'll see who gets there first," she challenged, still sort of hoping for him to fold.

"Great, I'll give you a five minute head start," and he nonchalantly sat into his car.

"Fucking idiot," she mumbled under her breath. He heard her and had to bite his lips to stop himself smiling.

She tried to race there first while not breaking that many laws and not endangering anyone, but he still won. He was standing there, leaning on his car with all his glory, as he watched her park angrily.

"Hi, baby," he greeted her and took his hat off. "Better luck next time." He gave her a mocking pseudo-sad pout.

"For each speeding ticket you'll get 30 seconds penalty," she hit him back.

"Worth it and still first," he winked. "Ready?"

"I guess so." He walked over to her and took her hand in his. Already there were few bystanders noticing them.

"We'll be ok," he reassured more himself than her probably.

"I was kinda hoping for more than that," she tried to lighten up the mood, as sudden nerves washed over her.

"You just never stop, do you," he laughed as they walked over to the café and he held the door open for her.

"You wish."

As they entered, he asked about her coffee order and made sure to memorize it for the future. If he was to be a boyfriend, he would be the best one. She kept looking to the ground as he order for both of them. He saw her slight distress and hoped that she was not regretting this - being out in the open with him. Even though their teams thought this was all fake, it was more than real for him. He would not admit this to anyone, but he was also kind of nervous. But there was not a doubt in his mind about this being worth it. She stood next to him, practically glued to his side and it felt nice as they waited for their order. He had to find a way to cheer her, main reason being that he cared about her mood and the second being their first pictures had to have looking at least little bit like having fun.

"It's actually quite exciting, isn't it?" Lando asked, unsuccessfully fighting his smile. The more he thought about them, the more was starting to like this whole thing.

"What is, Lando?" she replied, coming back to reality and locking eyes with him. It worked like magic. Within seconds, she was smitten through the roof.

He held her hand as a lover would. It was like touching a life wire. Sending impulses throughout their bodies.

"Being able to do this in public," he mumbled under his breath and stepped just a little bit closer. Time to break the rules.

He licked his lips "Ready?"

She was on the same wavelength as him. "Will this be our first kiss?" she teased, shifting towards him.

He put his arm around her waist, pushing her as close as possible. "Uhm."

"But this is ahead of the schedule they'd planned," she teased, totally on board with him.

"And you can watch me try to give a damn." There was fire dancing in his eyes. She put her arms on his chest, letting herself go into his embrace and closed her eyes, as he put his lips onto hers and kissed her. It was a gentle peck, their lips slowly brushing onto each other, the way that they had many times before. Yet, it still felt special. Carefree. Bold and confident.

There weren't many people in the cafe and the kiss wasn't exactly a long one, but it was enough. They had it documented from several angles. Y/N searched for the photos and saved them all. Neither of them quite ready for the storm coming their way.

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour @starmanv @riverxsq @eviethetheatrefreak @chonkybonky @bicchaan @saachiep81 @chezmardybum @a-beaverhausen @tbsloneely @iamkaku @amberpanda99

[sh1gglypuff]

If This Was a Movie

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• 2:10

It had been four years since you had last seen Kenma Kozume. Four years since you kissed his lips, four years since you had last told him you loved him, four years since he told you he never wanted to see you again. You had spent the last four years thinking about him, all the mistakes you had made and most importantly how you had lost him.

You tried not to think much of that last night, that last fight in front of his house. You barely could remember what that fight was about. You were 18 when it happened, barely an adult. You were 22 now, and you had grown up into a person you doubted Kenma would even recognize. It was hard watching your ex boyfriend be successful. It proved that he could live a life without you, a happy and fulfilling life.

Sleepless nights were spent thinking about him, you wondered often if he had ever felt the same. You wanted more than anything for him to come back to you. You wanted to run into him at a bar, see him at a stoplight, run into him at the store. In your mind you would see him and he would immediately remember why he loved you and take everything back.

He would remember the days you had spent tangled up in each other’s arms. He would remember how you would trace hearts into the center of his palm, sealing them with a kiss and mouthing those words he had grown fond of hearing. I love you.

He would remember you sleeping soundly in his bed as he played a video game. You always looked so peaceful, so safe. His heart would swell at the sight of you so comfortable and at peace in his presence.

As you scrolled through Kenma’s socials, you stared at his face. He had grown out his hair, you could still see the bleached ends. He smiled more now. He offered smiles to people, smiles only you had had the pleasure of seeing before. You wondered how he had spent these four years, who he had met. You wondered who he had kissed, who he had spent nights with. The thought of it made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

You didn’t know what Kenma thought, but he thought of you sometimes too. It was hard not to, you were his first everything. He had never gone so far to check your social media profiles, he knows his heart would ache seeing you happy. He often wondered what would happen if he did check. If he messaged you and asked to meet up what would you say? Would you embrace him warmly despite everything you had once said to him? Despite everything you had said to him that night four years ago?

You’ve never let yourself love anyone how you had once loved Kenma. Part of you will always wait for him. You will always leave a part of your heart open for your first love to fill. You desperately wanted things to be back to how they were before. You wanted to see Kenma, at least one more time.

But you never will.

Things don’t work like how they do in the movies. Kenma would not message you how much he misses you. Kenma would not find you and knock on your front door with flowers. You would not run into him on the street, at the grocery store, at a bar. It had been four years. If this was a movie he would be here by now.

[amirasainz]

Hi I saw you are looking for request!!

pierre gasly/baby sainz

where shes dating pierre post breakup with his ex. Kika is just disrespectful of the new couple dragging them on the internet and keeps showing up to races in the paddock looking for his attention. Baby sainz handles business by getting into a fist fight with her in a club after celebrating Carlos P3 and it's all over the social media. It makes headlines. Maybe Pierre was a bit drunk and kika baby sister!sainz showed her what's up. Pierre finds it funny and super attractive.

Thank you x

THE OTHER WOMAN

Hi guys. I hope you like reading this request.. THIS IS NO HATE TOWARDS KIKA! She actually is one of my favourite wags. @spookystitchery My requests are always open. Please send some! Feedback is always welcome. -XoXo

The music boomed loudly through the nightclub. In the middle of the club, Pierre and Amira danced sinfully to the rhythm. Little did the couple realize that they were being watched by none other than Kika.

Now, let’s rewind a bit.

After a massive fight about his job in Formula 1, Pierre and Kika decided to break up. Three months later, Pierre was frequently seen with Amira Sainz, Carlos’s precious little sister. However, it took another three months for them to officially confirm their relationship. And let’s just say the announcement garnered more attention on social media than any World Cup finale ever.

Of course, Kika got wind of their new relationship. Initially, she thought she could live with it. But as she witnessed how much Pierre and Amira became the “it” couple, she couldn’t help but start to harbor resentment. Specifically, she despised their relationship.

When Kika saw what Amira posted, she copied her actions, trying to make it seem like a coincidence. It only took a couple of posts before fans realized what she was doing. Kika even liked every comment that went against the couple.

The situation had escalated beyond mere jealousy. Kika’s emotions churned like a tempest, fueled by resentment and heartache. Pierre and Amira, blissfully unaware of her turmoil, continued their dance—a celebration of love and shared moments.

Kika’s anger simmered as she watched them twirl, their laughter echoing through the nightclub. She clenched her fists, her mind racing with thoughts of revenge. The Suzuka GP had been the tipping point—the final straw that snapped her fragile restraint.

When Pierre excused himself to fetch drinks, Kika seized her opportunity. She descended to the dance floor, her steps purposeful. Amira stood there, an unwitting accomplice in Kika’s vendetta. The room pulsed with music, drowning out the chaos in Kika’s mind.

“Look at what the cat dragged in,” Kika sneered, her voice dripping with venom. Amira glanced up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, Kika. Hi,” she replied, her tone lacking enthusiasm. Amira wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but even she couldn’t defend Kika’s irrational hatred any longer.

Kika leaned in, her breath hot against Amira’s ear. “You stole him from me,” she whispered, her fingers grazing Amira’s arm. “But tonight, I’ll steal your joy.” With that, she spun away, leaving Amira bewildered and Pierre’s fate hanging in the balance.

The nightclub pulsed around them, unaware of the storm brewing on the dance floor. Kika’s heart raced; revenge tasted bittersweet. She would ruin their night, even if it meant sacrificing her own sanity. The music swirled, a backdrop to her unraveling resolve.

As Pierre returned, drinks in hand, he found Kika gone and Amira staring after her. The dance continued, but the harmony had shattered. Kikas wrath had ignited a fire—one that threatened to consume them all.

And so, under the neon lights, the tangled threads of love, hate, and desperation wove a dangerous dance—one that would leave scars long after the music faded. When Carlos called Pierre over, Kika took her cance to ruin Amira' sainity.

"You know, when Pierre and I were together he used to performe phenomenal. And the only results with you as his partner are horrible." Amira was more than confused. "What…."" You might think that all the things he does with you are sweet and lovely." The more she talked the more Amira was getting annoyed. And her blood started heating up. "Everything he ever did with you, he already did with me." And now it was truly boiling. "I bet i'm even better in bed than you will ever be. He even said so himself. That i was always leaving his world rocking." Amira started balling her hands in fists. "Did he take you to meet his parents? Did he tell you that we were talking about our own kids? Thinking about marr-" Before she was able to say another word, the Sainz woman already hit her in the face.

"Perra estúpida. ¡Cállate la boca! Si te quería tanto, ¿por qué te dejó por mí, estúpida?" she yelled in Kika's face. In less than two seconds the attention was on them. Before Kika had the chance to hit her back, the two of them were separated.

Pierre picked her up around her waist. Amira however wasn't done. "Es patético que dediques tu tiempo a odiarnos. ¿Quieres pelea? Soy de la puta España. Puedo darte una buena, estúpido idiota." Pierre quickly took her out from the nightclub

"Amour, what the fuck was that? Are you hurt? What the fuck were you thinking?" he ranted angrily. She quickly turned to him: "The fuck was i thinking? Was defending our relationship because that stupid girl was being disrespectful. She said-" Before she could utter another word, Pierre started kissing her.

"Ma cherie, you have no idea how incredibly sexy you are right now. Let's get back to the hotel so we can….."

[chgridlock]

Fine. LN- pt 4.

Part. 3 here: https://www.tumblr.com/chgridlock/749755983679586304/fine-ln-pt-3?source=share

Y/n and Lando were childhood best friends, an inseparable duo who knew each other’s secrets like the back of their hand. But then came F1. Lando transformed into a playboy prince, his name synonymous with champagne showers and a different model on every arm. Models just like y/n, except for her. Disgusted, she distanced herself, the warmth of their friendship replaced by a biting cold. Y/n, chasing her own dreams, blossomed into a sough-after model, gracing the covers of magazines right under Lando’s nose, well, at least that’s what she assumed. In taught, Lando followed her religiously on social media, a secret admirer hidden behind a facade of arrogante.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, ex best friends, Lando being a dick sometimes.

The morning light, harsh and unwelcome, streamed through Lando’s blinds, pulling him from a restless sleep. He didn’t even wait for the insistent buzz of his alarm. Groaning, he reached for his phone, the glowing screen a beacon in the pre-dawn, a silver of hope flickering within him.

His heart dropped like a stone. No new notification. Disappointment washed over him, a bitter taste in his mouth. He stared at the blank screen, replaying last night's messages in his mind. The frustration, the simmering anger, the helpless concern- all tangled up in a knot that tightened with each passing second.

He wasn’t sure what to feel anymore. This whole situation had stirred a chaotic cocktail of emotions within him. Worry, of course that gnawed at his gut like a hungry beast. Anger, hot and sharp, at your stubbornness. Irritation, a dull ache at the back of his mind, at your disregard for your own health. Guilt, an unwelcome guest in his thoughts, for his earlier callous wish. An beneath it all, a sliver of something else, a concern that went beyond simple friendship.

He sighed heavily, throwing back the covers and forcing himself out of bed. Despite the emotional turmoil churning within, he had a day to dace. Anything to distract him from the constant thought of you tucked away in your apartment, feverish and alone.

This whole thing felt irrational. Why did he care so much? You were just being yourself, stubbornly refusing to admit vulnerability. “Just a simple case of stubbornness and annoying behavior,” he muttered himself, trying to convince his heart of a thrush his mind couldn’t quite accept.

He went through the motions of his morning routine, a practiced autopilot to keep his thoughts at bay. But it was futile. Every mundane task - brushing his teeth, making coffee- sent his mind wandering back to you. He reply’s your dismissive message, picturing the grimace on your face as you typed it. He remembered his own frustration, his simmering helplessness.

Then came the guilt. The way he’d lashed out about your lack of self-care. And finally, the undeniable worry. The worry that have culminated in a desperate need to check on you.

He sighed again, a defeated sound. Grabbing his phone once more, he typed out a message, culminating in a desperate need to check on you.

“Hi,” he wrote, the single word with unspoken concern. “Is everything okay now? Did your fever get worse or anything?”

A wave of relief washed over Lando as his phone buzzed, quickly replaced by a surge of worry as he read your message. “I literally feel like I’m dying gosh,” it read, a stark contrast to your usual behavior. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“Still?” He typed, the question hanging heavy in the air.

He couldn’t believe it. A whole night had passed, and you were still feeling this awful? The image of you flashed in his mind. He paused for a moment, trying to to chose his words carefully, “Have you at least taken the meds for your fever…or seen a doctor?” He finally typed.

He waited, his heart pounding in his chest. Your response arrived all of quickly: “it’ll pass.”

He groaned- There you were again, brushing it off like a minor inconvenience. His frustration bubbled over, tinges with a touch of anger. You were being so irresponsible.

“Just take the damn meds,” he typed forcefully. “Or see a doctor…” He paused, tossing around a crazy idea.

“Or I’ll have to come over and take care of you myself…”

He knew it was a ridiculous threat, considering the distance between them. But the though of you lying there alone, miserable and neglected, was unbearable. He hit send, a mix of irritation and concern churning in his stomach.

Another message pinged on his screen. You needed to sleep, you said, the curse word a testament to just how bad you were feeling. Lando felt a surge of exasperation mixed with a strange pang of sympathy.

He sighed, defeated. He knew pushing you wouldn’t help. “Just… sleep then,” he typed with a resigned air. “And don’t forget to take the meds…” he trailed off, leaving the implied threat hanging in the air. “Or else..”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Did he really want to storm over there and take care of you? I mean, in the past he craved for that. The thought now was absurd and yet… so tempting.

Lando’s heart plummeted as read your response. “I don’t have,” it read, hanging in the air like a confession of neglect. He raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t jus a simple annoyance anymore. This was full-blown worry, tinged with a hefty dose of self-reproach.

“You really don’t have any meds at all…” he typed, the words heavy with disappointment. He couldn’t believe you’d gone a whole night without even a basic painkiller to dull the ache. Had you eaten anything? Were you even bundled up in something warm?

He slammed his fist against the desk in frustration, the sound echoing in the silence of his apartment. How could he have let this get so bad?

“Did you take anything else? Are you taking enough care?” He bombarded you with questions, having against hope that you’d done something, anything, to soothe your discomfort.

But your following message stopped him cold. “Look Lando,” you wrote, the flippancy in your words a stark contrast to the seriousness of the situation, “Im dying but is fine, didn’t you want me to get sick?”

His eyes narrowed, his initial frustration morphing into something else entirely. Was that… sarcasm? A twisted joke? His mind raced. Was this a cry for help disguised, or were you genuinely bitter about his earlier callous words?

Lando’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, a knot of guilt tightening in his stomach. He wanted to express his remorse, but finding te right words felt impossible. Finally, he typed, “I didn’t wish for you to get sick to he point that you were dying…”

A beat later, your response arrived, laced with exasperation. “Jesus Christ, Lando” it read.

He winced, the sting of your words a well-deserved punishment. “Shut up,” he replied, shame burning in his fingers. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was a stupid thing to say in the heat of the moment, and i only meant for it to be a lousy cold, nothing serious.”

“Great!” You replied, the sarcasm dripping from your text.

Lando rolled his eyes, a small part of his frustration returning. “Don’t act like you weren’t infuriatingly stubborn yesterday!” He fired back, swift and fiery.

“You were the stubborn one!” Your responde came back “Good fucking bye.”

The sudden silence that followed hit him like a physical blow. He stared at the black screen, the last message hanging there, a stark reminder of his idiocy. You were right, you always were. He’d been the stubborn one, and now you were paying the price.

A surge of panic washed over him. “Wait,” he typed, a desperate plea hanging. “Don’t ignore me, damn it…”

But his message was met with silence. He spent the rest of the day glued to his phone, his heart sinking with each passing second. Every notification had him scrambling, only to be met with disappointment. The worry gnawed at him, a constant companion alongside the guilt that twisted his gut.

The world throbbed with a dull ache, mirroring the pain in your head. Each breath felt like a chore, your body heavy and sluggish. Lando’s messages swam in and out of focus on the screen, his words blurring together. You felt a flicker of anger, a spark amidst the fog of your illness.

“Good fucking bye”, you typed, your finger hitting the send button with a satisfying click. Who the fuck does he think he is, you muttered to yourself. He said he was coming over if I didn’t take care of myself? What was he thinking being now so caring and…and sweet… wait, no, no. He’s a dick, utterly and bitterly dickhead egoistic shithead… but it would be nice to have him here, like old times, feeling his arms around…NO. This must be the fever playing tricks with me. Oh how i hate being this vulnerable fuck.

The phone slipped from your grasp, clattering on the nightstand. You didn’t have the energy to puck it up, the effort too much. Closing you eyes, you drifted off into a feverish sleep.

The day stretches on, each tick of the clock an echo of his growing worry. Lando went trough the motions of his routine- work, dinner, a mindless TV show- but his focus remained fragmented. He stole glances at his phone constantly, hoping for a notification, a message, anything to break the silence.

Frustration warred with worry. Were you truly sick, or were you simply ignoring him after their heated exchange? Finally, after a full day of agonizing silence, he hesitantly picked up his phone and hoped a simple “Hey…” The single word hung up in to the air, a fragile bridge between them.

He pressed send, holding his breath. Seconds turn into minutes, silence stretching uncomfortable. He finally consider calling, a desperate need to hear your voice overriding his usual hesitance.

“Yes?” The voice that answered was barely a whisper, raspy and strained. The sound of your voice smelt a jolt of worry straight to his heart. The playful defiance of your usual voice was replaced by a vulnerability that tightened his throat.

“Are you alright…? How are you?” He blurted out.

The reply came back, raw and desperate, “Like fucking dying, my fever is not coming down.” Lando’s heart clenched. Parted of him wanted to yell, to remind you of your stubbornness, how you refused to take care of yourself. But the bigger part, the part that truly cared, drowned it out. He took a deep breath, forcing calm into his voice.

“How high is your fever now?” He asked, his tone firm but laced with concern.

“Hmm, like…40 degrees,” your voice whispered back.

A groan escaped Lando’s lips. 40 degrees? That was dangerously high. The worry that had been simmering all day erupted into a full-blown panic. He couldn't just sit here anymore.

“40 degrees…?” He repeated, his voice barely a whisper too.

“Yes…” the single word confirmed his worst fear right now. A surge of protectiveness shot through him. He couldn’t just wait and hope for the best. He needed to see you, to make sure you were alright, to take care of you the way you wouldn’t take care of yourself.

“Im coming to your flat now,” he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Don’t even try to stop me.”

Silence descended on the line. He held his breath, waiting for you inevitable protest.

“Lando, no,” your voice came back, weak but resolute.

“Y/n,” he countered, his voice firm but gentle, “your fever is 40 degrees. I’m coming over.”

“Lando, don’t-“

“Shut up,” he interrupted, surprising himself with his own urgency. “I’m coming over and that’s that.”

He wouldn’t allow room for debate. He knew you well enough to understand you might still try to downplay your condition. But this time, he woulnd’t let you. He cared about you, damn, deeply, too much, fuck. The thought of you being alone and potentially getting worse was a terrifying prospect.

He hung up the phone before you could argue further. “Fine, you’re making me doing this y/n.” His focus was singular - get you, take care of you, and make sure you were alright.

Author’s note: HELLO LOVES. Sorry for taking THIS long to post, but college is hard guys and I’ve been sick twice so yeah, not much time, I’m sorry. But summer is coming and that means more time to write. Not really happy with this chapter but God know that the next one is going to be good. Tysm for reading this. Love u all. ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Tag list: @persiar9 @mia-rrrs @ssararuffoni @kapsylia @formulaal @sparklysharknerd-blog1 @f1fantasys @landosgirlxoxo @moonclaine @charlesgirl16 (for some reason I’m not able to mention all of the users, don’t know why its happening, trying to find a solution. Sorry loves for that.)

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 5)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ While filming Tron, Y/N follows Evan up in Canada, eager to surprise him for his birthday. But what starts as a joyous occasion quickly turns into a heated argument. But you know what they say about fireworks: they explode, and boy, do these two ignite into frustration and passion. Will their clash lead to a blazing reunion, or will it all go up in smoke? Hazard a guess😏

Warnings ─ Swearing, oral (both receiving), food porn, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, bondage, BDSM, mild daddy kink, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, birthday sex, missionary, nutty smutty— based on public demand ;)

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4

Word count ─ 3.8K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

20 January, 2024, Vancouver

Your tears blur your vision as you stand in the kitchen of the Airbnb, the temporary shelter you share with Evan. The cold glow of your phone screen illuminates the screenshot of Adria’s last hurtful texts, sent just before she blocked you earlier this month.

You haven’t spoken since, and the silence gnaws at your heart, tearing at the fabric of a friendship you once believed was unbreakable. She was the kind of friend you didn’t need a social battery for, the one you always dreamed of growing old together.

Your mind involuntarily does a wild backflip, taking you back to when all the drama with her first unfolded, and your throat starts to close up as your bottom lip trembles, threatening to bring another full-blown sob fest.

*flashback alert*

You and Evan were lounging on your bed, both in your undergarments, basking in the lazy aftermath of the Emmy Awards bash a day later.

Tabloids were ablaze with afterparty pics, splashing your face as the ‘enigmatic woman’ next to Evan Peters. Headlines screamed speculation and gossip rags were practically hyperventilating, going into detective mode to uncover your identity. Whispers and rumours spread like wildfire through the gossip mill, making you feel you were under a microscope.

Whenever you’d feel the sting of public scrutiny, even on your social media accounts, Evan would nonchalantly wrap an arm around you and remind you with a reassuring smile, “Let them guess, baby. Let them spin their stories. They’re just bored, no life. We know the truth, and that’s all that counts. Don’t let them rent space in your head.”

Evan was now deep into his phone, navigating the maze of paperwork needed to smuggle you into Canada without an American passport. His fingers moved absently, tracing soothing patterns on your back.

“Baby, maybe we should go for a visitor visa or an eTA... Electronic...Travel Authorization, or whatever the hell that is. It’s the quickest way to get you in,” he muttered more to himself than to you, his brows furrowed in concentration as he scrolled further.

But you just laid sprawled out beside him, limbs tangled on him in a delicious mess, your breasts spilling over his chest. You were barely listening to all things bureaucracy over the addictive scent of his skin and his rhythmic heartbeat, aligning with the rise and fall of his breathing.

You not using a single brain cell when with your man...

You admired the perfect curve of his side profile, the little mole on the tip of his nose that always made you smile. Your fingers grazed over the ridges of his toned abs, a silent appreciation for the masterpiece he was as your mind replayed the epic dick he served you up the night before.

Your clitoris was practically combusted after that, but your period, dear Aunt Flo, decided to pay a surprise visit earlier than expected. Of course she would...

And that’s when your own phone exploded into a frenzy with Adria’s messages. If the media uproar felt invasive, hers cut deep, and it was super personal.

“Tha fuck,” you cried out, hurling yourself off the bed. You frantically unlocked the phone to read the full conversation, the venomous words on the screen hitting you like a sledgehammer. “Listen to this,” you shouted, your voice shaking with fury as you read her brutal attack aloud for Evan to bear witness, each word dripping with malice.

Evan watched, perched on the edge of the bed, his eyes widening with every syllable. His face paled as he took in the vitriol of phrases like, “pathetic boyfriend’s lil junk,” “shove it up your ass,” “he’s using you,” “useless gold digger,” “you’re dead to me, bitch”.

You exploded, launching into a tirade about Adria’s betrayal. “She’s showing her true colours now, isn’t she? ‘Friend, my ass!’ What a snake!” your voice broke with the intensity of your anger and hurt.

Evan moved to your side, throwing a black tank top on, his expression a mix of hopelessness and sympathy. He was stunned, his eyes brimming with concern for you. You felt the weight of his worry, but also the unconditional support in his gaze. You collapsed into his waiting arms, snuggling your head up in his lap. His delicate hand was soothingly running through your hair as you sobbed hard and fast, each tear absorbed by his fingertips like it was nothing as you let it all out.

“Yea, baby, what she said was messed up, no doubt,” he murmured looking down to meet your eyes as you turned over to face him. “But sometimes people lash out when they’re projecting or hurting. You had every right to keep it private for as long as you wanted, but maybe she felt left out 'cause you were keeping this big chunk of your life from her. Doesn’t excuse her going full nuclear, but it might explain where she’s coming from.”

Your chest heaves with another wave of tears, gripping onto his leg for dear life.

“Shh.. it’s gonna be alright, my love,” Evan whispered, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Look, you’re in pain from her harshness, and that’s valid. But if there’s even a slim chance of salvaging the friendship, it might be worth a shot to talk it out. Doesn’t mean you gotta forgive and forget right away, but at least give her a chance to explain... If she doubles down on the crazy, then yeah, maybe it’s time to move on.”

*flashback ends*

The oven timer jolts you back to the present moment, snapping you out of your memories. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you pull out the Pyrex dish with dinner and strike a match, igniting the candles on Evan’s cake. You know he doesn’t fancy extravagant night outs for his birthday, so you’ve planned a cosy burrito night in for him.

With a quick glance at your phone, you see his response, “I’m a few blocks away, undress yourself” to your earlier string of messages,

miss your loads

**miss you loads

well, both I guess

His reply buys you just enough minutes to set up the surprise.

Yes, the moment you touched down in Vancouver, Evan had to rush off to set. Yes, even on his birthday.

As you hustle to put the final touches in the dining area, you check the candles to be sure they’re all lit. The warm glow casts a romantic ambience, shadows dancing on the walls, amplifying the anticipation.

Suddenly, the familiar jingle of keys in the lock from the hallway sends your heart racing, your pulse pounding with enthusiasm and nerves.

“Happy birthdaaaay!” you exclaim, arms thrown in the air, as he saunters in with a charming wide grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you buzzing around the room.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, his voice rich and satin as he takes in the scene. His hungry gaze lingers on you a little too long, and it sends electric pulses of desire across your core.

“Just making sure your birthday is as hot as you are,” you quip, your tone sticky with innuendo as you lock eyes with a sultry smirk. 

He chuckles, cheeks flushing, as he paces closer to you with a crooked smile and a glint in his eye. His smirk expands as he corners you against the table. “Oh, is that so?” he hums seductively, yanking you tightly onto his chest, his hands tracing fiery paths over your body.

You nod, shooting him a mischievous smile as you pass him a small bag with your present. He gasps in excitement as he tears the wrapping apart to unveil a bulky watch, similar to his old one. “It fits like a glove,” he cries out, quickly fastening it on his wrist only to swing you around right after, his joy infectious as he holds you close.

“Thanks a bunch, my baby. That’s a top-tier surprise, especially now that I don’t have my family around,” he mumbles, and you notice as his eyes glisten with unshed tears. “I truly love you, Y/N.”

Your heart swells as you drown into his misty eyes. “I love you too, Evan. It’s not much, but I couldn’t just shrug your birthday away without making it special. You like it?”

“Like it? I adore it, Y/N. You have no idea how much this means to me and how you bring the best out of me,” he sighs against your ear, sending tremors down your spine.

Before you can respond, his hands slip under your dress. Tugging at your strapless bra and pinching softly at your nipples, his tongue slowly twirls with yours, making your pussy leap and leak for him. Aching for his touch, you moan into his mouth, your body melting into a slime in his grasp.

Breaking the kiss, Evan’s breath burns against your breasts like a firestorm of passion as he murmurs huskily, “Why isn’t my birthday wish fulfilled yet?”

With a devilish grin, you meet his gaze, your lips a mere breath away from his. “I’m your genie for the night, sir. You ask, I shall deliver,” you purr, your hand teasing the stiffness that strains his slacks, feeling his need for you pulsating beneath your touch.

“You, on this table covered in cake.”

Your hands rub harder on his erection, drawing soft groans from him as you nibble on his neck. “Consider your wish granted,” you whisper, your voice a silken promise as you push him back slightly. Clutching his jaw, you guide his head toward the table, your touch both commanding and tender. “But don’t you want to have a bite and tell me about your day first?”

He puckers his lips, narrowing his eyes in mock contemplation, before a wicked smile spreads across his face. “Yea, I suppose I should think with my top head for a bit. Let’s enjoy this delicious dinner you’ve made, and after that, baby, I promise, I’m gonna take my time licking every inch of you clean,” he coos, and strides over his cake.

As he leans in to blow out the candles, you stand next to him, clapping, cheering, and chanting the old-age birthday song, your phone capturing every moment for your mutual private collection. The room is bathed with the warm glow of candlelight and the sweet odour of dessert.

As the last wisp of smoke from the extinguished candles curls upwards, he turns to you with a playful smile, and that’s only a prelude to the real feast that awaits you both.

Evan’s re-enactment of Jared Leto’s and his own over-the-top method acting antics has you in stitches as you wrap up your meal. “Alright, alright,” he says, attempting to mimic his character’s intense gaze and dramatic voice.

He picks up a small dish, holding it aloft like it’s the most important object in the world. “This…is no ordinary plate. It’s our shield against the vice forces of the universe.”

You can’t help but snort, staring at him incredulously, “What has this shield gone through?” you inquire, unable to contain your amusement.

Evan grins, clearly pleased with himself, but stays in character. “No, no, Y/N, you don’t understand. This dish…I mean this shield has seen things. It has felt the scorching heat of the oven—like hell itself—and the icy chill of the fridge—colder than the North Pole. It’s been through a transformation!”

His priceless facial expressions send you into another fit of laughter, doubling over and clutching your sides. “Evan, stop! I can’t—” you gasp between fits of giggles. “You’re killing me!”

With exaggerated precision, he places the dish aside and grabs a glass, his face deadly serious. “And this glass,” he exclaims, holding it up like a sacred relic, “has held the nectar of the gods.”

Your laughter reverberates across the room as you lean against the table for support. “You guys are insane!” you choke out, still laughing.

He breaks character for a moment, his own hearty laughter bubbling up. “You think Leto goes this hard at home?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“I bet he does!” you reply, chuckling. “His poor dishes must be so confused.”

You dab your lips with a napkin, flashing a seductive smile to Evan as you stand up, the fabric of your flowy dress grazing against your skin in all the right places. You start gathering the crockery, the clinking of plates echoing in the room.

He takes a leisurely sip of his wine, eyes gleaming with mischief as he watches you intently. “Mmm, what do you think you’re doing there, miss?” he hums, waving his glass towards the dishes.

“I’m tackling the post-dinner cleanup before we open a cockroach motel in here,” you quip, balancing two plates on your forearm, the curve of your hip accentuated by the movement.

He raises his head with a hint of suspicion, his tongue lightly brushing against the sides of his teeth. With a smooth, predatory gait, he glides closer to you, his presence commanding and magnetic. His arm snakes around your waist until your bodies press extremely close together, as if he wants to meld into you.

He starts planting soft kisses on your neck, the warmth of his breath seeping into you and quickening your pulse. “That’s on me, baby girl. You cook, I wash—fair play.” His voice is a lush whisper tinged with playful allure, the undercurrent of raw ecstasy between you is in flames.

You look over your shoulder and move to the side, trying to slide away. “No, it’s your birthday, and I should spoil you,” you insist.

But Evan’s embrace only tightens, his crooked smile inviting trouble. Without warning, he whirls you around, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. The tempting aroma of alcohol and raspberries lingers on his breath, turning you on.

“What about my cake?” he murmurs against your lips, his hands massaging your ass before pressing against your throbbing sex. A choked moan escapes your lips, your need for him palpable.

With insatiable urgency, he strips you off your dress and deepens the kiss, leaving you only with your matching lingerie, a tantalising veil barely concealing your arousal.

He lifts you effortlessly, placing you atop the table with a low growl. Your breath catches as you feel the cool surface below you, contrasting sharply with the heat of his touch. He slides your panties down your thighs with a bitten lip, your tongues intertwining in a sensual dance.

Eager to feel more of him, you hastily fumble along the buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling in anticipation. He stares at you with darkened eyes and a smirk, primal desire burning in his gaze, as he helps you rid him of the fabric separating you. 

He kisses and love bites his way down your upper half, leaving a trail of fire in his wake, until he reaches your pulsing cunt. 

As he grunts against your slippery folds, and you cover your mouth to stifle a scream, your surroundings seem to distort. It’s as if you’ve just dove into deep water, and his voice becomes muffled and distant, like you’ve submerged beneath the surface of a vast sea. Adria’s words echo through your mind, “he’s using you cause he’s stuck with his ex! Wake up!!” 

Panic seizes you, and you push him away mid-action, your breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as you leap off the table. “Let’s have the cake now, Evan. I’ll bring spoons,” you retort hastily, your words spilling out in a frantic rush, your heart hammering against your ribcage like a wild drumbeat.

“I don’t mean eating it the conventional way…” he says, his chuckle mixed with traces of confusion.

As you hurriedly scramble to get into your dress and underwear, you move towards the kitchen with a racing heart, his voice ringing in your ears.

He rushes forward to block your path, gently grabbing your arm. “Is everything okay, Y/N? Why’re you avoiding me?” he questions, his brows furrowing in a blend of surprise and intrigue.

Your stomach always twists into knots whenever he addresses you by your government name instead of his endearing variations of “baby.” 

Your breath hitches as you pause, tension and uncertainty weaving through the atmosphere like a dense fog, obscuring your conscience. His rosy lips turn into a thin, anxious line as his eyes search yours for answers.

“I’m not, Evan,” you manage, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart, your cheeks warming under his penetrating gaze. “I just…nah, forget about it. I don’t want to ruin your special day,” you mutter, your words rushed and disjointed, a feeble attempt to brush off your inner turmoil with a forced hug and kiss.

But he won’t let you escape so easily. He gently pulls you back, cupping your face in between his thumb and index finger. “What is it, baby? You can speak to me,” he urges, his tone soft but insistent. His eyes flicker around your face, concern etched into every line of his handsome face.

You lower your head and roll your lips into your mouth as tears are on the verge to spill. “I want there to be more to us than just sex,” you finally muster the courage to verbalise, your voice shaky.

His eyebrows shoot up, lips parting in disbelief. “But there is,” he fires back, his forehead creasing with lines of protest. “In fact, I’ve never felt a healthy and substantial connection like this before. It’s deeper than anything I’ve experienced,” he defends, his voice laced with desperate sincerity, his eyes imploring for you to understand.

He reaches out to pull you into his arms, his touch soft and comforting, but you step back, shaking your head in subtle denial.

He sighs in exasperation, his patience already fraying. “Honestly, what’s going on, Y/N?” he presses, his tone firmer.

You narrow your eyes at him, our tongue poking at your cheek, as your voice crescendos. “You wanna know what’s going on, Evan? You’re using me to get over your ex, that’s what’s going on,” you blurt out, arms folded across your chest. The words just tumble from your lips before you can stop them, charged by the doubt that’s been itching you.

His face contorts in shock, eyes widening, and his mouth hanging open in stunned silence. “What? Where did this come from?”

“It’s just something Adria threw at me,” you explain, compulsively rubbing your forehead, “she’s been in my head, making me doubt everything all over again.”

Evan’s eyes harden at the mention Adria, a glimmer of anger flashing across his features, but his touch remains delicate. “What did she say?” he asks, his tone rigid, but he’s clearly battling to keep his cool.

“It was her message the day we were at mine after the Emmy party,” you confess, croaking with the weight of your revelation. “She thinks you’re with me because you’re still hung up on your ex, and I’m your rebound.”

Evan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes as he’s reminded of these infamous texts. He pulls away slightly, a coldness suddenly creeping into his demeanour. “Thought we’re over this, Y/N. You know she’s just annoyed, hurt, or envious...dunno...that you didn’t say a word about our relationship, and she’s just trying to poison us.”

“How do I know that’s true?” you snap, frustration boiling over and your voice quivering with intensity as you confront him.

His jaw tightens, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “You should trust me,” he persists, his voice strained with emotion. “I’ve done all I could to show you I’m committed to us. Why do you keep letting her get to you?”

“Because it’s not just her, Evan!” you cry out, your voice cracking. “It’s the internet, and sometimes, I feel it too. Like maybe you’re not over your ex, and I’m just a placeholder here to fill a void,” you admit, tears flooding down your face, your chest heaving.

“Y/N...don’t cry, please,” he whispers, his voice momentarily gentle yet tinged with worry. “That’s ridiculous!,” he continues calmer than before. “We all carry our personal baggage, but I’m with you because I want to be. If you can’t see or feel that, then what are we even doing?”

You take a step back, your own anger rising, your chest tighter than before. Your stare turns into a furious glare, your heart rate soaring. “I just needed to hear you say it, okay? you retort. “I needed to know that I’m not crazy for having these doubts.”

Evan runs a hand through his hair, frustration plastered into every tense muscle of his body. “I’ve told you a million times, Y/N. I love you. I’m here for you. If you can’t see or feel that, then maybe we need to rethink this. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

His words stay the air like a heavy cloud, suffocating the room with their weight. The silence that follows is deafening, amplifying the ache inside you.

He shakes his head, his voice low and bitter now. “Whatever,” he spits out, his footsteps stomping against the floorboards as he storms out of the room, leaving you standing there, heart thumping and more tears streaming down your face.

You lie on the couch, staring blankly at the TV droning on in a meaningless chatter as you absentmindedly flick through channels. The sound of the shower running in the background serves as a grim reminder of Evan, who, you bet, is still fuming even through closed doors.

Why tonight, of all nights, damn it all?? It’s his birthday, and it’s meant for joy and celebration, not this mess of baseless accusations and lame tears. You curse yourself for allowing Adria’s betrayal-infused ill-intent to infiltrate your mind, killing Evan’s love and dedication with your insecurities and silly suspicion.

The fight plays back in your mind like a horror movie on repeat, each word exchanged like a dagger to your heart. You recall Evan’s wounded face, the disbelief in his eyes...they haunt you all like ghosts in the night.

Your heart bleeds with regret as you realise the magnitude of your mistake, wishing you could just rewind and take your words back. The TV blares on, but the images just blur into a haze as you stay trapped in a loop of guilt and self-loathing.

The shower shuts off, and your heart skips a beat. You hear Evan moving around in the bathroom, the sound of the towel rack clinking, the soft thud of him stepping out. You squeeze the remote tighter, flipping through channels faster, trying to find something—anything—that could distract you from the impending confrontation.

Shortly after, he enters the living room, and you can’t help but drool over his on-my-knees-daddy-you’re-a-snack grey comfort shorts and white tank top, his hair damp and his expression weary. He glances at the TV, but says nothing.

The silence stretches, thick and constricting, and you feel you’re stuck in an endless, narrow cylindrical corridor that leads to nowhere. 

“Evan...” you dare, your voice wavering like a candle flame in a strong breeze, but it feels like screaming in a dream. 

He freezes, his back to you, shoulders stiffen as if bracing for impact. “What is it, Y/N?” His voice slices through the silence like a knife, sharp and guarded, a far cry from its usual warm and mellow timbre.

“I’m sorry,” the words spill from your lips, heavy with remorse, as you sit up on the couch. “My bad for bringing this up on your special day…very selfish of me, and I shouldn’t have let Adria’s words shake me like that.”

Evan turns slowly, his eyes piercing into yours as he flops onto the sofa next to you with a heavy sigh. “Then, why did you? Why allow her to destroy what we have?”

You take a shuddering breath, trying to alleviate the storm raging within you. “I don’t know… Maybe because, deep down, I’m terrified. Terrified that this is fleeting and all too good to be true. Terrified that I’m not enough for you.”

With a tentative move, he redirects his eyes towards you, the harsh lines of his expression softening just a fraction. “You’re more than enough, Y/N. But you have to trust and believe me. Why can’t you do that?” he asks, his voice regaining its soothing texture, akin to sweetened nectar.

“I’m trying,” you huff out before letting out a dramatic sigh, feigning a pout as your fingers caress along his stomach, getting lower along the edges of his firm abdomen. You admire the rugged strength of his arms, even in moments like this.

Well...damn, sir!

He squares his jaw, attempting to maintain his resolve (resulting in abject failure). “Try harder, Y/N because I need you in my life,” he mutters, his voice faltering slightly as you lean forward to trail kisses over his neck. Tough Evan is really like giving Bambi a gun.

It’s officially reckless business o’ clock. 

You sense the tension in his body easing, his reservations crumbling beneath your touch. With a mischievous spark in your eye, you close the gap between you, mere inches separating your lips. “But you know what I should do?”

He quirks his eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden shift in your attitude, but he instantly drops his head back, pretending to be unbothered. “I don’t care. I’m still pissed at you…but tell me, even though I don’t care,” he retorts, facing forward, but his need to know is crystal clear in his face.

You shoot him a playful grin as your fingers trace tantalising patterns along his bulge, feeling his hardness twitching under the fabric. “I should make it up to you,” you declare, an enchanting lilt to your voice, as you slowly undo the strings of his shorts.

A shudder courses through Evan’s body, jeopardising his composure. The intoxicating scent of your arousal and the softness of your touch prove too much for him to bear. “I’ve give you your own Kinder surprise,” you whisper seductively, your hand slipping underneath his shorts.

He fights to hide his growing erection, his breath comes in uneven gasps as he adjusts his shorts. “And what’s your grand plan?” he sighs, his voice husky with desire. His eyes are dark with anticipation while his resistance disintegrates with each passing second.

You sink between his legs, making him harder with every graceful sway of your hips. “Oh, I have a few ideas,” you chirp, pulling your hair up in a ponytail in an agonisingly slow pace.

You catch a glimpse of the outline of his cock protruding beneath his boxers (caught in 8k ultra HD), the fabric adorned with a tell-tale wet spot. Needless to say, he’s far more excited than he’s letting on. “Come on, baby Evan. Don’t play dumb with me.” 

Your mouth waters with anticipatory thrill, your wet centre throbbing with need. Your senses intensify, thighs instinctively clenching as you await him to shove down his shorts.

Evan swallows nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. In a swift, “fuck it” motion, he loops down the waistband of his boxers until his cock springs free, standing proudly in the air. Your gaze, once fixated on the crop of dark pubic hair gracing the base, now observes the veiny pathways that run along his thick length, leading to the swollen tip—flushed red and leaking with eagerness.

Your eyes, brimming with excitement, dart back and forth between his face and his erection, gauging his reaction as you test the boundaries. Encouraged by his desperate nod, you come closer, your lips ghosting the underside of his shaft, your warm breath teasing his sensitive skin, coaxing it to jerk in response.

“Crap, Y/N…I should be mad at you, but you’re too good at this…” he breathes out, already roused by the sight of your plush lips caressing the heat exuding from his cock, sending a wave of warmth sweeping over him. His legs part further, an unspoken invitation for you to draw nearer.

You giggle before taking the plunge, slowly skidding your lips along the sensitive underside of his dick. A soft, almost inaudible groan escapes his lips, and it’s the go-ahead you need to continue. From top to bottom, you pepper his throbbing length with tender, soothing kisses.

His hand immediately reaches for your hair, his fingers finding solace in the roots to distract himself from finishing too fast. Lowering your head, you tilt it to the side, your tongue marking a stripe against his sensitive balls. Eagerly, you press your face forward, your lips latching onto one of them, suckling on it with a gentle yet persistent rhythm, each release eliciting a small pop.

“Mmff!— fuck..” Evan’s jaw goes slack, a deep groan rolling off his tongue the moment your mouth makes contact, his resistance melting away under the spell of your touch.

Your kisses skim from the base and drift all the way up to the tip of his cock, tongue salty with precum as it deftly strokes the ridges. His body quivers, responding with an urgent jolt of his hips. It’s a wordless plea for you to finally take his cock into the warm and wet comfort of your mouth. 

“Stop torturing me, for the love of...I’m gonna explode,” he groans, grasping on a pillow as if it’s his last lifeline, and you can feel the urgency in his veins popping out. Ignoring his imploring, you press your lips right onto the swollen head, treating it to small kitten licks on his sensitive slit.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous...” he grunts, teetering on the edge of a whimper. His hips buck forward once more, ramming his tip deeper into your mouth. The evidence of your arousal is just as indisputable as his, your panties most definitely sodden from the act of using your mouth on Evan alone, cunt convulsing from his lewd noises with each stroke. His raw groans, the praises that spill from his mouth, and the way your name dances off his tongue like silk makes the fiery bundle of elation simmer in your belly.

His cock delves deeper into your throat as his hips undulated to the flow of his ragged panting. He can see the glistening of tears stinging your eyes, your whines muffled out around him. His tip bullies the back of your throat with each jerky thrust until it’s sore, pushing so deep that your nose buries itself in the tufts of baby hair on his pelvis.

His lips, now parted and glistening, ooze vulnerability, while his doe eyes shimmer with a feverish glimmer. Everything about him in this moment is mesmerising, leaving you no choice but to be spellbound. The rippling tremors jolting through Evan’s frame indicate he’s nearing his climax, fire pooling low in his abdomen, ready to burst.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubs the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the tightly coiled spring in his stomach, yearning for release. His balls tighten, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turn sloppy. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” he growls, a strand of your saliva trailing from his tip as he withdraws. 

“Fill my mouth up, baby boy,” you plead, looking up at him with hungry eyes, your mouth open and primed for his treat. 

With a wicked smile, you bite your lip before he softly slaps his dick against your tongue. Then, with one final forceful pump as he holds your head close, ripples of cum colour your mouth white. Trapped in his strong grip, you gulp down his bitter torrent, suppressing the urge to gag as your tongue battles with the arousing assault.

“Fuck, you’re such a naughty slut, aren’t you?” he groans, chuckling, as you’re still on your knees, gingerly wiping away the saliva and residue from the corners of your mouth with his top. With ease, he picks you up and crashes his lips onto yours with unforeseen fervour. 

“Your naughty slut,” you correct, raising your index finger like a twin exclamation mark. As you roughen the kiss, you squirm against his hand as he rubs your clit, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he whispers, his fingers sliding up and down your soaked slit, eliciting bated moans from you. “You’ve got a wish to fulfil.” 

“Do what you want with me, Mr Peters,” you coo, suckling on his bottom lip. Wrapping your loose hair around his wrist, he pulls your head back to lavish your neck with soft nibbles, his teeth grazing your skin, making you gasp.

With a swift motion, he bends you over the arm of the couch, your breath catching in your throat as he takes his time gracing your ass cheeks with red marks from his playful smacks. “You’re gonna give me everything tonight,” he growls, his voice thick with lust. His hand slips under your dripping pussy, yanking down your panties as his fingers tease your entrance.

You push back against him, craving more, as his free hand grips your hips, holding you in place. “Please, Evan,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need.

He chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “Begging already? I like it,” he murmurs, his fingers finally plunging into you, making you cry out in pleasure. He pumps them in and out, his thumb circling your clit, driving you to the edge.

“Fuck,” you moan, your body quivering as he continues to work you, his fingers curling inside you, hitting just that perfect spot. 

“Why move so much, baby girl? Want me to punish you?” he snaps, his words almost entirely drowned out by your loud mewling. 

Before you know it, he pulls back slightly. He stands up, reaching for a drawer nearby and pulling out a length of silk rope. “I’m gonna tie you up and make you scream my name until you can’t take it anymore,” he mutters, his voice sending shivers of anticipation through you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he binds your wrists together, the silk smooth against your skin, both restraining and arousing. He secures the rope behind your back as you’re standing on all fours at the centre of the couch, ensuring you’re immobile and completely at his mercy.

He grips your hair and lines his erect cock at your entrance, deliberately rubbing his tip on your slit so that your cum trickles down your thighs. Sucking in a breath, he slaps your butt with a force that makes you squeal in sheer horniness. 

“Evan, fuck me,” you cry out, staring over your shoulder with pleading eyes. 

“We’re not done yet, baby,” he asserts, his voice dripping with promise. His hands roam your body, exploring every inch as if he’s memorising you, his touch both tender and demanding. 

“Damn, you look so beautiful like this,” he huffs out, his voice filled with reverence as he takes in the sight of you bound and vulnerable before him. He trails kisses down your body, his lips worshipping your skin as he moves lower, his hands spreading your thighs apart.

“I wanna taste you,” he growls, his mouth descending on your pussy, his tongue flicking and teasing your clit from an angle you’ve never tried before, driving you wild with need.

“Something’s missing,” he breathes out, and dips his fingers in his cake by the coffee table. He scoops a bit of icing and stretches your weeping cunt, smearing it along your inner thighs and folds. His eyes gleam with mischievous delight as he licks and nibbles his way through the sweet confection and onto your sensitive skin, making you squirm and scream with pleasure. 

You moan loudly, the pleasure overwhelming as he literally devours you, his tongue and lips delving and sucking you to the brink of madness. “Evan, please,” you spill out in desperation, your voice coming out in punchy, shaky sobs.

He chuckles darkly against you, the vibrations sending waves of ecstasy through your body. “Cum for me again, baby girl,” he commands, his voice a sinister growl as he continues his onslaught, his fingers joining his relentless mouth to push you over the edge once more.

You scream his name, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Your walls clench around his mouth and fingers, your vision going white as you’re consumed by pleasure. Evan doesn’t stop, his mouth and fingers driving you higher and higher, leaving you a quivering, breathless mess.

Before you can even catch your breath, he flips you over so you lie on your side, your legs folded, head resting on the other arm of the couch. His eyes are dark with passion as he places himself on top of your thigh, and you lick the sweet remnants of cake from his mouth in despair, tasting yourself along the way. 

Your breath tickles his ear as he reaches for the cake, scraping up a generous blob of icing with his finger. Bringing it to your lips, he watches intently as you lick it from his finger, your tongue swirling around his digit, eliciting a guttural groan of need from deep within him.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll forget your own name,” he promises, his voice a seductive whisper as he thrusts into you, filling you completely, your lips locked, his eyes fixed on you. 

You arch into him, still bound, mewling in delight as he slams into you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, your mind going blank as you lose yourself in the sensation, your world narrowing down to the feel of him inside you, driving you to the edge again and again.

Finally, he releases you from the silk binds, his eyes filled with satisfaction as he pulls you into his arms. “We’re not through yet,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a promise of more.

He gently shifts you into missionary position, his eyes meeting yours with an intense, burning desire. He enters you slowly, savouring every inch, his movements deliberate and controlled as he begins to jam in you, each motion sending tides of ecstasy through your body.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, the connection between you smouldering, each thrust bringing your high closer. “Evan, please, I need you,” you whine, your voice a desperate plea for release.

“Mine,” he growls, his movements becoming more erratic as he nears his own release. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

“Yours,” you agree, your voice a breathless moan as you feel another orgasm building, the intensity almost too much to bear.

With one final powerful thrust, he sends you spiralling into your climax, his own release following along, your bodies entwined as he collapses on top of you, both of you spent and satisfied. He kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours as you both catch your breath, the intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless and craving more.

“Happy birthday to me,” you murmurs, a contented smirk gracing his lips as you both revel in the afterglow of post-coital bliss, trapped in a tight, loving embrace.

“I should piss you off more often if you’re gonna dick me down like this,” you joke, and your mutual giggles fill the room.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[delfiore]

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (2/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you and ona become much closer, but in the wrong way; an offer on the horizon threatens to tear you apart.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: description of collision in football

PART I, PART III, PART IV, PART V

Sports Illustrated: USWNT International Y/N Y/L/N Scores in First Game Back From Injury “Y/N Y/L/N will not stop scoring. The Man City star returns to action with a stunning header in a home game against Everton since picking up an injury this summer in the CONCACAF final against Canada. Though the U.S. emerged victorious thanks to Alex Morgan’s penalty kick, Y/L/N was forced off in the 68th minute with a torn hamstring. She was expected to be sidelined for 3 months. […]”

You skimmed through the article, waiting for your coffee to brew. It has been an arduous few months as you focused on rehabilitation. You were supposed to be match-fit at the start of the season, but the physios determined you needed at least a few more weeks before you could play. Your thigh still felt a bit tight every time you stretched them. Nonetheless, you were back to playing, that was all that mattered.

It was early November, and the winds were picking up in Manchester, and yet you were warm.

“Morning,” you said, smiling at the figure waddling into the living room.

Bratwurst was wagging his tail by her side, no doubt looking for more food as if you hadn’t fed him half an hour ago.

“Good morning,” Ona said, rubbing her eyes.

“Coffee?” You nodded towards the machine.

“No, I have to get to training. Thanks, though.”

“In my shirt?” You smirked at looked down at her top. Sure enough, it was the old T-shirt you lent her after you were done last night.

“Hah hah.” She mocked you, but then took off the shirt, leaving her top half completely bare, and threw it at your face. “Obviously not.”

You let your eyes travel freely, as she went back into your room and returned wearing the clothes she came in last night.

“Looks like you’re back to being your insufferable self.” She walked to where you sat, putting on her necklace. “Can’t even go on social media without seeing people praising your goal.”

“All in a day’s work,” you said, grinning.

Ona rolled her eyes and put on her shoes. “I’m glad you’re back, but I won’t go easy on you.”

You stood up and pecked her lips.

“I never asked you to,” you leaned closer, ducking your face into her neck. “Maybe when we’re alone.”

She snickered quietly and patted your cheek. “Try not to miss me too much. Bye-bye, Bratwurst.”

The pup sat by the door as he watched her close it behind her. Ever since she started spending time at your apartment, it felt like he liked her more, always following her around and snuggling with her as she gave him pets.

Ona had been coming over since the kiss at the end of last season with the premise of meaningless sex. You both had an arrangement, and you were committed to keeping to it. You were surprised when she suggested it, thinking her not to be the type, but Ona continues to surprise you.

You had only meant to meet up over dinner to talk about what happened, but the night ended with her hands tangled in your hair and your legs tangled in her sheets. The ups and downs these past few months never deterred you from seeing each other. In fact, Spain losing out in the Euros prompted her to come over and forget about it for a night. In a way, you both had each other.

Your teammates at Man City were especially amused whenever you’d forget to cover up and come to practice with marks on your neck.

“Who’s the unlucky gal this time, Y/N?”

“Have you been busy while you were injured?”

Every time, you would just shake your head with a grin because you’d never kiss and tell. Also, because Leila and Laia would flip out if they knew you’d been screwing their teammate on the national team.

Your arrangement worked for a while, both of you still too young and too committed to football to think about anything else. While a lot of your colleagues would disagree, it was the excuse you told yourself to fully admit that what you felt for Ona was beyond just carnal desires.

You were treading on dangerous waters, your feelings bubbling to the surface every time you saw the girl. It was much more challenging to keep them under wraps, especially when you had to play against her every couple of months. From what people knew about you two, you were rivals, and that was your relationship. Rumors of a romance surfaced too, amongst younger fans, but it was the result of baseless shipping. If only they knew.

Ona wasn’t an incredibly affectionate person, not by a mile. The only times you would catch her lowering her guard by the tiniest of margins were when she was tired, maybe then she’d let you cuddle her after sex. But you remembered when Spain was knocked out of the Euros way too soon, and she was crying on the phone to you. You had just won the CONCACAF with the US across the Atlantic, and yet all you wanted was to hold her.

And so that was what you did. Two days later, after you were dismissed from your international duties, you flew back to Manchester and waited for her. Ona liked to be the little spoon whenever she was sad, and you were very happy to oblige. If she was feeling generous, she would even thank you for it. As much as you wanted to, you never teased her about it, because you knew what you had was fragile, and a slight mention of it could topple everything to the ground.

That was how it was with your Spanish beauty.

“Wooooooow . . . You’ve got a handful,” said your teammate, Chloe, as she stood in your kitchen, eating your chips.

“Yup,” you pressed your lips thinly, grabbing some seasoning from the cupboard. “That’s my life right now.”

You proceeded to tell Chloe everything one day, omitting a few saucy details, of course.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“That’s the thing, though. There’s nothing to talk about. I can’t just walk up to her and demand something that wasn’t part of the arrangement to begin with.”

“I know, but it’s clearly affecting you. You like her, don’t you?”

“No.” A few seconds of silence followed, and Chloe was looking at you with a glare. “Okay, I think she’s cute, like, really cute.”

“I think you should talk to her, Y/N,” Chloe said. “Worst case scenario, you lot stop whatever you’re doing with each other behind all of our backs. Best case scenario, you date her.”

You smirked, but nothing no usual quippy or smug remark came out. “I should try,” you spoke quietly.

Chloe nodded expectantly and continued eating her chips, now. “I can’t believe it. You tricked all of us! It was Batlle all this time!”

“I didn’t think you’d come tonight,” you whispered quietly into the room, sitting by the edge of your bed.

Ona was under the covers, on her phone. “Why? ‘Cause we played against each other?”

You nodded bashfully.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she set her phone down. “Or did you not want me to come?”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” You said, gesturing at the clothes strewn on the floor.

You let her study you for a moment, finding the ruffled sheets much more interesting instead.

“What’s wrong?” She said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re too quiet.” Her voice was low and calming. She reached out and caressed your hand. You wanted to bury your face in her neck and be done with the conversation instead.

“I was just wondering . . . would you like to come over a bit earlier from now on?”

Your question made her look at you with a puzzled expression. “Have I been staying too late?”

“No, no. I mean—you can stay as late as you want, but come a bit earlier. I can cook for us, and then we can just sit and . . . talk.”

You fumbled with your fingers, your eyes drifting up to her, seeing the realization dawn on her. She exhaled. “Okay, that sounds nice . . . but as friends, right?”

“Um . . . no?”

“Y/N,” Ona breathed. Her silence was killing you. Finally, she looked up. “That wasn’t our arrangement, and I’d like for it to stay as we’ve agreed. You’re okay with that, right?”

“Yeah,” you lied, caressing her arm and flashing a smile. “It’s for the best.”

She nodded but watched you closely. “Come here,” she whispered.

You obliged, letting her pull you into her embrace. A searing kiss followed, leaving you to straddle her bare waist.

A short gasp left your lips. “Fuck me, Ona.” You pleaded quietly, hoping she’d fuck you until you forget the conversation ever happened. But you also hoped she’d go slow and make love to you, proving that she’d finally reciprocated your feelings.

You’ve decided that you wanted both. Maybe then, you’d finally get what you wanted.

You didn’t know that Ona was scared to let you in too, so she settled for sleeping with you.

You had been an obsession of hers for three years, a game she played besides having to focus on the actual game she was paid to play. But now, here she was—sleeping with someone who could possibly be her mortal enemy. She didn’t know when, but suddenly, she couldn’t bring herself to see you harmed.

She wanted you, but that was the selfish part of her speaking.

In the morning, you had expected her to be there, but your bedside was empty.

Ona moved through her days like a ghost. She didn’t expect it to be this hard three years ago when she first set foot in Manchester. She didn’t expect a forward to make her life this hard, or that she would fall in love with you. Every minute she spent tangled up in bed with you were minutes where nothing else outside that bedroom mattered, and it scared her.

It scared her that only you could make her feel that way, that something she had spent so hard working towards for herself, you did so easily for her.

She thinks of the nights after the Euros when she practically stayed over all day, and how you took care of her. She thinks of the cheeky winks you would send her way whenever she played against you, and the not-so-innocent brushes that you sneak in whenever she defended you. She think of your face when she shut you down, and how quickly your walls came back up.

She thinks of you the entire time she was on the Zoom call with her agent.

“You need to decide soon, Ona,” her agent had told her. “Barcelona doesn’t wait for anyone.”

It was a no-brainer, but she thinks of you all the time.

The referee blew the whistle and the 90 minutes were over. You collapsed on your knees as the Etihad erupted into cheers. Man City had reached the semifinals of the Women’s Champions League for the first time ever in the history of the women’s club. You would be playing Wolfsburg next, but you couldn’t care less about that right then. You just wanted to celebrate with your teammates.

You wished that you could celebrate with Ona too.

You sent her a text much later in the night, but she didn’t respond. Thinking it to be too late for her to come over, you went to bed, soaking in your victory.

But then, she didn’t respond the next day, then the day after that. A week later, she still hadn’t responded. Then the first leg of the semifinal came, and City drew 2-2 to Wolfsburg. You had given her space to deal with whatever she didn’t want you to know and knew double-texting made you look desperate, but you have had enough of the silence.

A vote of confidence would have been nice Sent 4:29pm

Nothing.

You weren’t going to put your life on hold for her. You wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

The week of the return leg, you had almost forgotten all about Ona from the amount of training you were doing.

“Okay, ladies. Gather around,” said Chris, the assistant coach. “This will be our last practice session before the Champions League game. We’re gonna do some passing to start with, then a set-piece practice, and we’ll close off with a 5v5 scrimmage. That sound good?”

You were starting to feel more confident than jittery. Your movements were sure and steady, so were your finishes. Big games never deterred you, but it was the added fact of Ona not responding to your text that caused you to check your phone every time you were able to.

“No phones, Y/N,” Chris said, and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, Coach. Just checking news from family,” you lied. He extended his hand anyway, and you begrudgingly handed your phone over.

“I can’t have you distracted, Y/N. The match is tomorrow.”

“I know, I know. I’ve been good, though, haven’t I?” You grinned, taking a swig of water.

Practice ended later than scheduled, but you didn’t mind. You needed the extra preparation, and you were glad to have done that with your teammates. Chris finally gave you your phone back, like a naughty student, and you quickly checked your messages. Still nothing. It wasn’t like this was the biggest game of your life or anything.

Going to the news, flipping through articles upon articles on politics, your eyes landed on one about sports.

The Busby Babe: Ona Batlle Set For Barcelona Return “Manchester United and Spain star right back Ona Batlle is reportedly on the verge of completing a move back to Catalonia, rejoining Barcelona Femeni at the end of her contract with the Red Devils. […]”

The match of your life started. You were on the left wing as you always were, playing inverted so Laia would be running the flank. You scored one, but Wolfsburg got one back towards the end of the first half.

“Make those runs, ladies. If you see them coming at you, call out to your teammates. Use the third man to break free of the defense.” Gareth pointed at the board, showing hypothetical scenarios that the team could exploit for an opening.

“Hey,” Chloe sat next to you, her forehead glistening. “You alright?”

You uttered a small ‘yeah’ and closed your hand over her sweat-clad one over your knee. You couldn’t be distracted. You owed it to Chloe and everyone else on this team.

You were slamming your fist on the door, but you didn’t care. Your jaw clenched as you swayed on your feet waiting for her to open up.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You stepped into her apartment.

Her face went pale. “How did you know?”

You let out a laugh. “You’re pathetic. You’re a coward for not even saying a single word.”

The ball was sent over long from deep aiming towards you. You called for Filippa for a one-two, but once you dribbled, you were tackled inside the box. You put your hand up at the referee but huffed in disbelief when she only shook her head and granted a corner.

Slapping your hand on the grass, you sprung up with a grunt. It must have looked like you were throwing a tantrum, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to win.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So you were just not gonna say anything at all?! You owe me that much to—”

“I don’t owe you anything, Y/N.” She snapped. She had never snapped at you before, not while off the pitch. “You know what we have is just sex. That’s all we ever had and that’s all we will ever have.”

Tears formed in your eyes. You felt like a kid again, being scolded and taken for granted. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but this isn’t some fantasyland,” Ona said firmly. “I told you what I wanted, and I thought you agreed.”

There was a period of struggle over the ball soon after, mostly in midfield. You were growing increasingly frustrated as passes continued being cut off just before they reached the attacking third.

“Come on, guys! Let’s finish this!” You called out to your teammates in an attempt to hype them up before a throw-in.

Your irritation mounted, but you told yourself to quickly snap out of it. I need to stay calm, my team needs me. It proved quite difficult when Lena Oberdorf slithered up from behind to mark you. She dug an elbow into your back to keep you at bay, and when you moved, she moved. So you pushed back, much harder than you anticipated. It set her off. Good, stay off me.

Soon, you heard the ref’s hurried whistle, as Lena shoved you back. “The fuck are you pushing for?!” Your opponent seethed, getting all up in your face to challenge you.

You were feeling bold, so you smirked at her. “Come closer, see what I’ll do. Or do you just want a piece of this, huh?”

It wasn’t your best quality, you admitted it, but you liked it when you set off an opponent. You didn’t care when Lena was hurling insults at you in German as she was being led away. What mattered was that you had gotten in her head, and it would be much easier to break her defense from now on. The referee blew her whistle again, and a few teammates of yours attempted to separate you from Lena.

“Sei ruhig, Mann. Bleib’ da drüben.” Be quiet, man. Stay over there. Waving at her dismissively, you saw the way her eyes looked like they would pop out of her sockets in fury, knowing she didn’t expect you to know German. You couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

“Last warning, Y/L/N.” The referee warned before continuing the match.

There would always be one player that completely drove the opposition crazy, and you would gladly be that asshole, so your teammates wouldn’t have to. You wanted to win.

“You kissed me first. I thought . . .”

“Please, don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Ona said quietly.

“I thought we had something, Ona,” you tried to steady your voice. You knew you sounded pathetic, but you never believed Ona could betray you in such a way.

She only pressed her lips thin. “We don’t. The only thing we have is our arrangement and however you feel about me on the pitch.”

Bunny scored in the 75th minute, and that would be the last goal for City in this match. The game went to extra time, and you could feel your teammates getting tired and sloppy in possession. You were tired too, but you wanted to keep fighting, anything to keep the thought of Ona out of your head.

You were so focused on the ball that you didn’t see a defender coming up beside you, her body colliding with yours in an attempt to redirect the ball. You fell to the ground with a thud, the stinging impact beginning to spread across your back. You felt the wind getting knocked out of you, your vision beginning to fade until all you could see were the lights atop the stadium, until those faded too.

The next thing you knew, you were on your side. Then the uncomfortable pain in your gut started to become more apparent, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. You gasped for air, just as a couple of your teammates knelt beside you.

“Y/N, can you hear me? Medic!” You heard a voice almost like Demi’s call out.

You didn’t know who knocked into you, you didn’t care anymore, because you had the overwhelming urge to throw up whilst still struggling to breathe.

“Can’t . . . breathe,” you wheezed out, tears starting to fill your eyes. You wanted to go home.

One of the medics shone a flashlight in your eyes. “Pupils are PEARL,” she said. “Okay, I need you to try and take deep breaths for me, alright, darling?”

You drew a shaky breath. There was a wheezing noise, in and out. In and out. The more you did, the easier it got. Your head was dizzy when you stood up, just as you heard applause ringing throughout the stadium.

Chloe appeared in front of you and offered her arm while a medic took your other as you walked toward the sideline.

“You’re alright, love,” she flashed you a warm smile and wiped away the stray tear that lingered on your cheek.

It was much too unfortunate, because you still had a lot more to give, but you were done for the night. Gareth knew it too, so he sent Hempo in to take your place.

You finally let the tears fall freely when the final whistle came.

“When do you leave?”

“In two weeks.”

A scornful laugh escaped you that you didn’t even bother to hide. “You didn’t even have the decency to tell me, not as your booty call, but as your friend.”

But you were kidding yourself. You knew Ona and you were never friends, never quite lovers either. Only two people floating around in a sexual limbo who were too scared to admit to themselves what was right in front of them. Now she was leaving, and you would never get the chance.

It didn’t matter anymore, any of it. You had a Champions League semifinal to play.

ESPN: Wolfsburg Grabs Victory in Extra Time to Reach Women’s Champions League Final “[…]”

a/n: it was so heartwarming to see the support for jenni and the players :’) it’s abt fuckin time man let’s hope this continues until rubiales and vilda’s resignation

[updownlately]

as long as i’m here (no one can hurt you)

| alessia x reader | hurt/comfort | 3.1k | disclaimer: mentions of anxiety & self loathing -this gets dark so please read at your own discretion! | a/n: based of this req! initially was supposed to be really fluffy but then somehow it just became 2/3 angst soooo welp. honestly it started off really strong imo but idk what happened towards the end, but oh well. not proofread as usual. anyways, take care amigos, happy reading!

~~~ 

Your heart’s in your throat and you don’t know how it got there. 

Your heart’s in your throat and the world around you’s dark.

Your heart’s in your throat and you don’t know where you are.

All you know is you’ve gotta go- you’ve gotta go fast- because if you stay any longer, the voices are going to catch up.

They’re going to catch up and they’re going to tell you- no scratch that- they’re going to remind- they’re going to remind you that aren’t good enough.

They’re going to remind you that there’s better, that there always will be someone smarter, more athletic, more confident, more outgoing, more fun.

They’re going to remind you that none of this is real- convince you that everything is just fake. That you’ve lost your mind enough to devise your own reality, where nothing exists yet everything is perfect. 

They’re going to remind you that you aren’t worthy. That you’ve fluked your way through life- everything gifted to you, everything undeserved. 

It’s the way it always goes. You running and running and running, only stopping either when the voices catch up or when you wake up, and if you were honest, you don’t know which one you prefer.

It’s not that you’d be dead, nor is it that you didn’t want to be alive.

It’s that you don’t know how you could explain to the sleeping girl beside you that even with every second you lay asleep, the voices in your head don’t cease. 

That each time she comforts you as you wake, shirt damp with sweat, shuddering breath escaping your lips, the words get louder in your mind.

And with each circle rubbed into your back, or reassuring word mumbled against your tangled hair, you think about how she could do better, better than you, better than this mess of troubling dreams, this mess of tangled voices, nonexistent but real to you, shouting, screaming, yelling, reminding you, telling you, letting you know.

You aren’t good enough, nor will you ever be. 

She deserves better, better than you.

You’re a fraud, a fake, a phony. 

The words repeat and repeat and repeat. 

~~~

It’s the third time this week, and it’s only Wednesday, that you wake up, heart racing, palms sweating as you try and regulate your uneven breaths.

It’s new to you, this whole nightmare thing.

You’d even go as far as to call yourself a lucky child, able to count on one hand how many nightmares you had when you were younger.

Now? Now though, it’s a miracle if you sleep through the night. 

You don’t know when it started- maybe sometime between the middle of last season and its end- when all you saw attached to your name was negative chatter. 

Flooding comments on social media calling you unreliable, unworthy, unneeded for your team. 

Offhand remarks of how you could’ve played better, could’ve done more, didn’t deserve a starting position, maybe would be better as a late sub, for the sake of the team. 

Maybe it was when you spent countless hours post practices perfecting your free kicks and running shots, only to be told to not take them as much, the dismissing tone in your coach’s voice clear, disapproval clear in their eyes. 

Words said and said and said, their intent to hurt, to prick, to wound successful.

It was those words that rang out in your dreams, among the thousands of other outcries you were used to having directed your way.

You thought you could take it, firmly believed so. 

You were a professional athlete for fuck’s sake, a little bit of verbal battering was nothing you couldn’t handle, right?

At least that’s what you told yourself each time you woke up in cold sweat, mind exhausted, heart tired as you tried to remind yourself those opinions weren’t facts. 

As usual, it led you to now. 

Now being you stiffly lying on your side of the bed, the room bathed in darkness, only the sound of Alessia’s soft snores to be heard.

Swallowing hard, you shuddered as fragments of your latest nightmare floated through your mind.

This one was different from the usual. 

This one might have even been the worst. 

The nightmare had started off as they typically do, the realistic image of the team’s pitch clear in your mind.

It seemed to be a replay of a normal game day. 

Arsenal dressed in their bright red jerseys, your opponents in a shade of blur, all the same but unidentifiable- not like it mattered much anyways- you didn’t need much convincing to feel how real it seemed.

It felt like a normal game day, but you saw yourself in third person, following yourself on the pitch like a drone, able to see each mistake you made so sharply, so distinctly.

You watched in horror as you tripped over your feet. Your heart dropped as you passed the ball directly to the other team. You’re nearly in tears watching as each tackle you made either did nothing or nearly took out the opposing player. 

You looked on in fear as the crowd begged for you to be subbed off. 

Your own home crowd, cheering any time you lost the ball, any time you slipped and fell, any time you erred. 

As much as it hurt each time the dream played out, this was normal to you. 

You were used to this. 

Used to the sinking feeling in your stomach. The flips it would do as you felt your heart break, the realization that maybe you just didn’t matter, the thought that you didn’t need to exist floating through your mind as your throat closed up. 

The sinking feeling as you realized you were unwanted was nothing new. 

The knowledge that you just weren’t good enough was basically a mantra ingrained in your mind.

So even though it hurt as if it was new each time, you were used to it. 

This was normal, no matter how many times it occurred, night in night out, it had become a part of you.

What wasn’t normal though, was how the game faded away slowly for once, a new environment blurring into your vision, the once typical dream changing drastically. 

You tried to shake your head in your mind, very much disoriented at the unfamiliar setting. 

You weren’t at the field anymore. The green grass you were always so used to seeing, the one that haunted you now in real life, gone within seconds. 

Instead, in its place, was a dark atmosphere, bright lights flashing occasionally as you felt vibrations hum through you rhythmically. 

Hearing laughter coming from your left, you whipped your head to the side.

Mere metres away from you stood the rest of your team, all dressed to enjoy a night out, drinks cradled in their hands.

You were at a club.

Chest constricting as you watched the girls peer over at you, then laugh, you felt your face flush, embarrassment seizing your ability to breathe. 

Quickly turning around, you searched for Alessia. 

Alessia usually made the anxiety go away.

Alessia was safe.

Alessia. 

You needed to find her.

Pushing your way through the mass of crowded, faceless bodies crammed in front of you, you tried to look for the blonde. 

The further you went though, the smaller you seemed to get.

With each step you were taking, the room seemed to grow in size, the people around you taller, peering judgmentally at you as you pushed through, the faceless partygoers somehow displaying a clear emotion of distaste at your presence.

You could feel your heart beat faster with each second.

Too many people.

You needed to find Alessia.

Too many people. 

You couldn’t breathe.

Too many people.

Alessia.

Continuing to push through the mass, air getting harder and harder to breathe, you closed your eyes, blindly moving forward.

Squeezing your way past the final few bodies, you felt yourself stumble as you came across a hallway, the door at the end of it bathed in a dim glow.

Maybe she was there?

Unable to stop yourself, your mind pleading for you to do so but frozen, your feet carried you towards the light.

You wanted to find Alessia. 

You needed her right now, and you’d do whatever it took. 

Hands shaking at the uneasy feeling in your stomach, you approached the door, fingers reaching out to rest on the door. 

Surely Alessia had to be here, right? 

You’d soon get your comfort…

Letting out a shaky breath at the thought of finally being okay soon, in the presence of Alessia, you pushed the door open, ready to feel okay, only for your eyes to widen as you felt a lump form in your throat. 

No, surely not. No…no…no…

Frozen in your spot, you stared, white as ghost, at the sight in front of you.

There, in the dark room ahead, was Alessia.

Except she wasn’t alone.

Eyes flitting between the blonde and the faceless body in her arms, you felt your world crash.

There she was, your girlfriend, your Alessia, arms wrapped around another person that wasn’t you. 

Another person that had their body pressed against hers in a way that was most definitely not friendly, not platonic in the least.

In front of you stood the two, hair dishevelled, their eyes as wide as yours, mouths agape as they realized they’d been caught. 

In front of you stood your Alessia, in the arms of another, as you finally felt the ground slip away from beneath you.

~~~

You knew it was just a dream.

You knew she wouldn’t cheat on you.

You knew it.

You believed it.

You felt it, each and every day that she loved you.

Yet, in this moment, darkness bathing you as the silence stretched on, the sinking feeling in your stomach and the way your heart still hadn’t stopped aching since you’d woken up told you otherwise.

Furiously wiping the tears that had fallen from your eyes, you tried to do your best not to sniffle, lest you wake your girlfriend up.

You already had a dream about her cheating- you didn’t want to go and make your night worse by waking her when she so desperately needed her rest. 

Doing your best to take deep breaths, you tried to regulate your shaky breathing.

Slowly inhaling and exhaling, you paid keen attention to how much noise you were making with each gasp. 

You needed to be quiet- had to be quiet. 

She couldn’t see you like this.

No, you wouldn’t let her. 

Taking a chance, you slowly turned your head to the side, eyes tracing the faint outline of the striker’s face as you wiped another round of tears on your hands.

Every single fibre in you wanted so desperately to reach out, to be in her hold, to let her soft murmur comfort you like countless times before. 

But you couldn’t.

You’d get through this night eventually.

Closing your eyes in frustration at the impending headache you knew was coming, you pressed the heel of your palms harshly to your eyes. 

You’d be okay. You’d be okay. You’d be okay.

Repeating the words to yourself, you whined in frustration, unable to find yourself to believe the words.

It was only when your eyes stung due to brute force did you realize what you had just done, freezing as you heard shuffling beside you.

Holding your breath, you felt Alessia’s arm reach out blindly towards you, sleepily patting around, trying to find your body, her even in her sleep ready to take care of you. 

You couldn’t have her wake up for you, not again. Not when it’s been multiple nights of her waking up, holding you till the dawn breaks, treating you ever so carefully, so delicately,

Letting go of the breath you were holding as you heard the movement stop, you closed your eyes as more tears of frustration escaped. 

How many times- how many fucking times were you going to wake up each night?  Why, why for the love of god, could your mind not be normal? 

Flexing your jaw as you tried to force your emotions away, you didn’t see the way Alessia sleepily awoke from beside you.

Mind preoccupied by not waking up the Gunner, you didn’t realize that she had long since been awake, trying to give you the time to collect yourself like she knew you wanted. 

In all honesty, the blonde had been up before you had been.

Recent days had oddly trained her to sleep a bit lighter. The combined with hearing your mumbling during your dreams had easily woken her up. 

She’d let you be though, well aware that you hated that she woke up each time. 

So she laid in silence, doing her best to continue her sleepy state, hoping that the night didn’t get too horrible, that she didn’t have to step in, for your sake. 

She stayed awake though, lethargically alert, ready to jump in if needed. 

Throat tightening up when she heard your sniffles, the furious movement of your hands as you wiped your tears away quietly pulling at her heart strings, the blonde quietly laid there as you dealt with the storm in your mind. 

A stalemate of sorts, an inevitable cycle of hurt. 

Slowly but surely though, your sniffles died down, movement slowing as you calmed, initial stabbing pain at the nightmare slowing until it became a dull ache.

It’s then that Alessia chose to take her chances, knowing you were easier to talk to after you had ridden your wave of emotions. 

“You think you’re hurting me each time you wake me up, but I don’t think you realize how much it pains me to see you like this…”

The words a near whisper into the darkness, Alessia waited a beat before slowly turning to face you, head resting on her arm as she faced you.

Please let me help you. 

The plea went unsaid.

Continuing, the whispered words brought on another round of damp eyes.

“You think you’re protecting me, but if it’s just hurting you more and I care for you, are you really succeeding?”

Let me be there to comfort you. 

Feeling her heart start to pound at your silence, Alessia wondered if you’d fallen asleep. 

Raising her head to try and decipher whether you were awake, she waited as a beat passed, and then another, both without an inch of movement from you. 

Shaking her head at the cruel timing between her speaking and your presumably sleeping state, the blonde opened her mouth to sigh, only to be cut off by your timid voice.

“I hate it enough that I have to go through this…it’s not fair to make you go through it too…”

The shaky admission had the blonde’s breath catching in her throat.

She never once felt forced to be there for you. Never. 

The fact that being a burden to her had you holding back so significantly pained her to hear. 

If the constricting of her heart at your quiet sobs had hurt, then the admission nearly felt like being stabbed. 

You weren’t a burden- not to her. Not now, not ever. She just needed to make sure you knew that. Believed it. 

“You’re not making me go through anything. I want to be there for you. I want to be able to hold you through the good nights and the bad. Especially the bad. You aren’t a burden to me…”

Swallowing lightly at the prolonged silence that followed her words, Alessia continued, shuffling closer to you until she was nearly pressed up against your side, only a sliver of space between the two of you.

“You make it seem like me loving you is a burden. That I can love you only when you’re perfect...when you’ve got it all together and don’t need a shoulder to cry on.

I don’t want that though. I don’t want to love you when you’re pristine. I want to love you when the days are dark and it’s raining so hard that you’re confined inside. I want to love you when it’s four pm and you didn’t sleep the night before and you’re grumpy because your coffee’s too cold. I want to love you when you can’t remember what it’s like to be loved. When it’s nearly three am and you’re having a nightmare and you don’t know who to turn to. That’s when I want to love you- when you need it most.”

A silence blanketed the room at the end of Alessia’s admission, only the quiet hum of the electrical wiring to be heard.

Feeling her cheeks heat up but not finding it in herself to care- to be embarrassed- the blonde took her chances.

Slowly letting her arm come to wrap around your midsection, she pulled you close.

With you still laid on your back, the side of your torso pressed up against the striker’s front, your hands gently intertwined as she found where it rested under the sheets, she continued. 

“Not waking me won’t do either of us good. Yes, you could deal with it on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I want to be there for you. I want to hold you when things get tough. I want to love you. You just need to let me do that…”

Feeling you nod in response, she moved to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Moving to lay on her back as she felt you turn towards her, the Gunner opened her arms in an easy welcome, gathering you in her embrace as you sank into her comfort. 

Whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ at your understanding, she wondered out loud if you wanted to talk about it.

A quiet but firm ‘no’ escaping your lips, she nodded her head in understanding as ran her hand through your hair.

If you didn’t want to talk, so be it- as long as you let her love you, take care of you, hold you, it didn’t matter. 

As long as you felt loved, because you very much were if Alessia had anything to say about it.

Hands coming to wrap strongly around you, you sighing contently at the warmth as you felt the tiredness of the past hour catch up with you, the pair of you drifted off into a dreamless sleep, Alessia’s last tiredly whispered sentence ringing reassuringly, protectively in your mind as the tension in your shoulder eased.

"It's easy to love you on your good days, but I want to love you on your worst. On the days you don't believe in love and don't think you deserve it, it's when I want to love you most. 'Cause I'll love you through all of them, now and forever, if you let me."

'If I could change the way that you see yourself, you wouldn’t wonder why you hear ‘they don’t deserve you'"