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mourntheantagonist · 1 year ago

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Trigonometry

warning: explicit. check ao3 for detailed tag list

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8:05 p.m.

That was the time flashing red in her face from the clock sitting on the side table next to the television. She sat with her back towards Steve, feet propped up on the sofa, resting her head against his side, her stare darting back and forth between the clock and the door.

8:05 p.m.

They told Billy to be at Steve’s house at eight.

Sure, it had only been five minutes—three hundred seconds exactly. It was a short enough amount of time to be explained away by a long stoplight or an inconveniently placed elderly driver.

Steve was rubbing his hand up and down her arm, and she knew he could feel how tense she was. Though, it wasn’t hard to be able to tell that considering Steve wouldn’t stop acknowledging it.

“Relax,” he said, “I’m sure he’s on his way.”

Nancy just kept looking at the clock. 8:06 now.

“He should be here already.” she grumbled.

Steve laughed, and it annoyed her just a bit how he was so unbothered by the situation. But, she also appreciated it, a little. At least one of them had to be the voice of reason. She had no idea what she would do if Steve was bouncing off the walls like he typically did when he was nervous or excited by something. She wondered if the fact that he wasn’t should concern her, but she was far too busy staring at the clock to hold any other concern.

“Not everyone can be as punctual as you, Nance.”

Nancy just curled further into his side, bringing her hand up to rest on his chest, feeling his heart beating hard. He was nervous too. He just wasn’t showing it. “Well,” she said, tilting her head back so she could see Steve’s face, “if he doesn’t show, we can still have fun just the two of us.”

Her voice sounded sincere, which meant Steve wouldn’t have noticed the way her own words filled her with dread. She loved Steve. That part hadn’t changed. But, there was something about the idea of just moving on with their relationship after all that happened that made her feel a little sick. Maybe it was just Billy’s words still ringing in her ear, still clinging to her skin, unable to be shaken or washed off. Maybe it wasn’t that, though. Maybe it was just her and her own infatuation with Billy. Maybe it was her own desire for something more that made the thought of going without the experience something that made her feel just slightly ill.

She needed Billy to show up. It was far more than a want. That was why she kept staring between the clock and the door. She needed him to show up because she didn’t know what she would do otherwise.

The sound of the Camaro’s engine saved her from entering that spiral.

It was almost embarrassing the speed at which she shot up from her seat, severing the physical connection between her and Steve as she got up from the couch and rushed over to the front window.

The headlights poured in through the glass, the car facing head on and the rays hitting her directly in the eyes and forcing her to look away. She knew she looked just like a dog waiting for the mailman to show up—judging by Steve’s laughs anyway—and she didn’t care. He was late, she was impatient, and Steve just seemed to be going with the motions.

The way Billy got out of the car sent something like electricity through her. It was a shocking sensation that ran through her veins and gave her heart something of a kickstart, beating rapidly at the sight of Billy’s mere presence in Steve’s driveway.

8:08 p.m.

He was there. It was happening.

Nancy felt stuck in place in her spot in front of the window. She felt like her feet had been nailed into the floor, and the palm of her hand had been glued to the curtain that she had firmly gripped. Steve was the one who opened the door, before Billy had even so much as set foot on the porch, still standing closer to his car than the entryway.

She watched from the window as Billy dragged the tip of his tongue against his top row of teeth.

“Waiting up for me I see.” he said, his lips smacking together, and Nancy felt her face flush, and an overwhelming urge to hide herself behind the curtains. “Sorry I’m late. I had some trouble leaving the house.”

Steve didn’t respond to that in a way that Nancy could tell. She couldn’t see him from her angle behind the window. He stood directly in her blindspot. But, he must have done something nonverbal to warrant the jump in Billy’s step as he closed the distance between his car and the front door.

Nancy quickly backed herself away from the window and rushed back over to the couch, trying to act as natural as possible, hoping that Billy was just too enthralled with her boyfriend to notice her standing in the window just two feet to the left of him. She sat down, made herself look somewhat comfortable by bringing her feet up on the cushions and leaning her back into the pillows, looking anywhere but the front door where the party of two was about to become a party of three.

Billy shrugged himself of his jacket the second he walked through the door and tossed it onto the back of a chair, and somehow he was appearing to be more comfortable than Nancy looked on the couch, and she was trying really, really hard.

However comfortable Billy was in that moment would quickly start to fade as the seconds ticked by, and the three of them remained in a dimly lit living room in complete silence. Nancy could tell he was growing tense by the subtle fall of his grin, and the seemingly subconscious attempt to pull against a sleeve that was no longer there. She couldn’t blame him. Behind her own closed lips she was clenching her teeth. Steve was sporting his typical stress-induced shaky and neurotic demeanor.

“Should we, umm…” Steve’s voice cracked, and Nancy had to swallow a laugh because the last time she heard that voice out of Steve, she was fifteen and Steve was tripping over himself trying to ask her to catch a movie with him at The Hawk.

Steve cleared his throat and finished his sentence. “Should we head upstairs to my room?” he asked, and the blush on his cheeks was comparable to a tomato, but at the very least his voice was without any high pitched variations that time.

Billy stood awkwardly in between the couch and Steve, and Nancy could actually feel the vibrations coming from Billy’s erratically tapping foot. “Aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” he asked, and the tone of his voice and the look on his face told an entirely different story than the one his toes were telling. Neither of them were sure what that story was exactly, but the words were enough to put both herself and Steve into a state of alarm. Feeding Billy a nice meal as foreplay was not a part of their little plan.

“Uhh,” Steve’s eyes were wide, and if you couldn’t tell he was nervous before, he was wearing that fact like a neon sign right about now. “We uh, we don’t—”

“Holy fuck. I was kidding.”

Billy was looking at the two of them like they were being ridiculous, but also, appearing like he was truly on a level playing field—nervous out of his mind, and having absolutely no idea where any of this was supposed to be going. Nancy could only wish there were instructions. She wished it had been like one of her science labs. Step, by step, by step with precise measurements and detailed actions in a specific order. It made things easy, and it kept her from messing up, and potentially causing any lethal explosions in chemistry class.

Nancy pushed herself up off the couch, finally meeting the two boys somewhere close to eye level, rather than two feet below being smothered by the couch cushions. She brushed out the wrinkles in her clothes, which was pointless but a force of habit, and she tried to let her body find ease. She just reminded herself that the two standing before her were Steve and Billy, and despite what reputation would have her believe, she had nothing to be afraid of.

“Upstairs then?” Nancy finally spoke, realizing just as she said it that she hadn’t said a word since Billy had arrived. It was weird. He made her into a person she couldn’t recognize. She was shy, in a way, and nobody had ever made her feel that small. She wasn’t totally sure if that was because Billy was bigger than her, or because the situation they were in was just massive.

Billy nodded, and it was then that Nancy knew that it was the situation that was making her feel so small, because Billy looked to be even smaller.

Steve led the way, and Nancy made note of the way his head was hung towards the floor, staring straight down at his feet and intently watching as he took each step. It was as if his main focus was avoiding the possibility of tripping and making a fool of himself.

Billy followed behind Steve. It was Nancy who was trailing behind, and she was partly hoping that her distance would allow enough time for the tension to die down and the awkwardness to fade just enough for it all to finally start.

She had thought it would be easier. The way it had been described to her, albeit, in the vague details of the original encounter that she managed to get out of Steve and Billy, it was easy. Steve had gone in for the kill, barely any hesitation, and no lead up. There wasn’t any chit chat, or breaking of the ice. That’s sort of what she was hoping for—a desperate display of horniness that happened so quick that she wouldn’t have the time to think twice and run away.

When they got upstairs and walked into the room, it was like they’d all just been pushed out onto a stage with the curtains already drawn without a script in hand. Hell, they didn’t even know what play they were performing.

Nancy just took a deep breath and walked herself over to Steve’s desk chair beside the bed, sitting down and trying her best to get comfortable, or at the very least seem comfortable.

The two boys were still standing by the doorway, completely silent and stiff as boards. Steve’s chest visibly rose as he turned around to shut the door, turning back around once secured and leaning all of his weight into it.

It was weird, Nancy thought. They never closed the door when it had been just the two of them. Steve’s parents were never home when they did it, and they rarely ever ran the risk of any surprise visits. The house was always completely empty aside from themselves.

All of those things remained true, and yet, Nancy was relieved to have it shut. It felt safer, in a way. She already felt so exposed, so any extra bit of cover she could get was something she would cling onto.

Steve must’ve felt the same.

A few seconds they stood there unmoving, each of them waiting on the other to initiate. Nancy just waited, watching like a movie scene unfolding. It wasn’t her place to do anything anymore. The ball was in their court.

Steve eventually made that first move, which was shocking, to say the least. Billy never seemed to be the type to follow another person’s lead.

Steve reached out a hand, like an olive branch, and Billy just stared at it confused, but took it anyway, as if curiosity had overpowered him. Steve led him over to the foot of the bed, and Nancy felt her breath get caught in her throat when the backs of Billy’s knees hit the mattress. Somehow the four feet in travel from the door to the bed felt so fast, and their mere proximity to the bed felt like they were sitting right on the precipice.

That was what she wanted right? Quick, and easy?

Billy seemed to have other ideas, or rather, his mind did. Because consciously or not, Billy couldn’t look away from her.

“What is—” he spoke weakly, and it was a tone she never thought she’d hear coming out of a vessel that stood as tall and proud as Billy Hargrove did. It was shy and small and powerless. “What is this? W-What are we doing? What is she—”

Perhaps they should have talked about it in more detail with him. But, honestly, they didn’t think they’d have to. Billy had seemed perfectly comfortable when first propositioned, and if his reputation was anything to go by, they figured Billy would be the one taking the lead, and guiding them.

It was quickly revealing itself that they had grossly misjudged him.

It was the first time Nancy felt the need to intervene, or at least provide a helping hand in the right direction, because Billy was lost, and Steve couldn’t pinpoint his location.

“Just relax,” she said, putting more effort than ever into how relaxed she herself looked, because how was she going to say that without walking the walk. “I’m just going to be here. You two get to do your own thing.”

Billy’s facial expression could only be described As dumbfounded. He just kept looking back and forth between Steve and herself, seemingly waiting for the answer to a question he couldn’t ask.

Luckily, Nancy thought she might have the answer.

“It’s okay, Billy.”

Billy managed to take his eyes off of Nancy for long enough to look back at Steve, who was quickly learning from Nancy. He gave Billy a soft smile and nodded his head.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Miraculously, that seemed to relax Billy. Not by much, but she made a note of how his fists stopped clenching.

Somehow, as the time passed, the two of them had created a good amount of distance.

Steve was the one to initiate closing that said distance, slowly, barely conceivable movements bringing him from point A to point B.

Their stance was awkward from her point of view. Steve stood in front of Billy, who had his back to the bed. Their bodies were clearly still uncomfortable and Nancy didn’t fail to notice the way Billy’s eyes continued to dart in her direction, despite everything.

Steve didn’t fail to notice either.

With a visibly gentle hand, Steve brought his fingers up to Billy’s chin, pulling his gaze away from her, and centering it back on himself. The shorter distance they once had began to lessen even more as Steve made use of his other hand, placing it just above Billy’s hip and snaking it to the small of his back. Over a short period of time, their bodies went from the initial distant with inorganic postures, to pressed up against each other, chest to chest, but at least in the case for Billy, still unrelaxed, eyes still straining to look over at Nancy.

Steve—to Nancy’s surprise—was the more relaxed one between the two, and he was also the one doing a much better job at pretending she wasn’t even there. Nancy’s head was tilted as she watched, looking intently into the eyes of her boyfriend as he stared at Billy. His deep brown eyes were locked in on the blonde. His mouth was hung open just barely, his jaw relaxed and his lips soft with a hint of drool.

She felt her stomach start to tingle at the sight of the scene, and as each second passed and the two grew closer and closer, the urge to look away grew stronger. It felt like she wasn’t meant to be seeing it. Hell. She wasn’t meant to be seeing it. None of this was normal. Normally, when two people had sex, there wasn’t a third person just sitting on the sidelines, watching the whole thing like a movie. Well, at least not usually to their knowledge anyway.

There must be fun in it, she could imagine. The thrill of putting on a show, being wild and carefree and completely unbothered by the fact that someone else was watching. But, Nancy found there to be more of a thrill in being the third party. It was like when she was in middle school and she’d stumbled upon one of her mom’s Cosmos, knowing the second that she found it that she was supposed to look away, but finding her eyes simply glued to the page. She was being naughty, and there was just something so exciting about that. If reading a Cosmopolitan was considered naughty, well, what she was doing with Steve and Billy should be illegal.

Even more thrilling.

Just like when she was twelve years old sitting in her closet and flipping through the pages of a magazine, she couldn’t pull her eyes away. It was as if time itself had stopped, and they had frozen in place with just how slow they were going, and Nancy could feel the anticipation growing in her stomach just waiting for that electrical circuit to connect.

It was so gentle, and soft, and she could almost feel it too. She could see the way Billy’s breath had hitched when Steve’s lips had landed. His wide eyes had grown even wider and his body had stiffened like a board and she had to wonder what she’d missed, because Nancy Wheeler was good at reading people, and she’d never expect that sort of reaction out of Billy.

But then, the dust settled, and Billy’s seemingly terrified look had sunk into the warmth of Steve. His eyes fell shut as if it were by force of gravity. His body became loose, his hands moved away from his sides, and it was clear to Nancy that Billy was no exhibitionist, but he could quickly fall into the illusion that they were alone. Nancy understood that. She’d experienced that before. Steve really had a way of making one feel like they were the only two people left in the world.

Billy had clearly fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

Billy was the one to deepen the kiss, those trailing hands moving up along Steve’s sides until they were cupping his cheeks. It was all consuming. Every last exhale of air and little noise that Steve produced Billy swallowed with his kiss. His grip on Steve was visibly tense—the white of his knuckles and the deep canyons in Steve’s cheeks made by the pressure under Billy’s fingers telling her so. Steve’s head was moving as if he was swimming, deep in the sea, searching for something. It seemed as though Steve had control of the movements, while Billy maintained control of the kiss.

It seemed that way, until suddenly their vertical stance had drifted to something more horizontal, with Billy falling flat on his back in one swift movement, something graceful. Billy still had his hands firmly latched onto Steve’s face, and suddenly Steve was the one who was wide-eyed. It seemed that Billy had taken over control.

The kissing quickly became less soft, and more frantic. A sloppy exchange of tongues with the corners of each other’s lips pulling tight against their will. It was desperate. Billy had his hand firmly latched into the hair on Steve’s head, as if he was afraid he’d try and run away. Nancy had felt that before with Steve. That desperate urge to cling onto him as tightly as possible like he was her lifeline.

She could see Billy smiling, less with his lips and more with his eyes. He looked blissfully content with relaxed eyes as the weight of Steve’s kiss smothered him and left him utterly breathless.

It was all going great. Perfectly smooth. Nancy sat watching, letting the butterflies in her stomach reproduce and fly around and lift herself up to new heights. Somehow in the midst of everything, she failed to realize that Billy hadn’t been the only person in the room that was worried someone else might be watching, because she sat there, fighting every urge she had to touch herself.

And boy did she have the urge.

As she watched, Billy looked to be falling more and more into the illusion that he and Steve were the only two people in the room. Steve hadn’t even looked at her once. All of his attention had been locked on Billy from the start. That was supposed to make her jealous. Wasn’t it? The fact that Steve couldn’t even spare her a second glance? The fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off of him?

It did. Actually. It did make her jealous.

The difference was, she liked the way it felt.

And the urge turned into something she could no longer over power.

She decided to be discreet with it, bringing her feet up onto the chair with her and sitting on her heel, rocking back and forth, side to side. It wasn’t anything intense, but it would be enough stimulation to hold her over until she calmed herself down a bit more.

She didn’t have Steve’s lips on hers. She didn’t have his essence all over her to be consumed by. It was going to take her a little bit more work to get comfortable.

Though, it seemed she’d overestimated Billy’s comfortability, because just seconds ago, he seemed so blissfully unaware of Nancy’s presence. He seemed so lost in everything Steve.

But Steve’s hands eventually began to travel. No longer mapping the geography of Billy’s chest through the opening of his practically unbuttoned shirt, his hand slid down, over the fabric. Down. Down. Further, and further…eventually breaking the denim barrier below his belt.

Billy instantly tensed as Steve made contact. Eyes shooting open into a look of shock. His breath seemed to be lost as he allowed his neck to turn, and his gaze to drift back over to Nancy, who, just like him, had frozen in place.

Steve retracted his hand and stood up, recognizing immediately what had caused Billy to startle. Suddenly, they were back to square one, waiting around with too much distance between them.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, and he was slow with his reapproach, leaning back down and making sure Billy knew where his hands were—way up high, right beside his face. Steve gently scooped up the side of Billy’s head and brought him back to facing upwards, and looking back at Steve with a blank and panicked stare. “It’s just me, Billy.”

Steve then placed a long and incredibly soft—by the look of it—kiss to Billy’s lips, as if to pull him back into the trance he’d just been, or to give him a little bit of medicine to help calm his overactive nerves.

It was intimate. It was very intimate. Not just for the kiss itself—Nancy had seen enough of that already to be used to it—but it was in the eyes. Steve looked down at Billy so tenderly. So full of concern and desperate understanding.

And then there was Billy.

Billy who looked like a kicked puppy. Billy who looked like he was borderline on the verge of tears just looking up at her boyfriend. It looked like he was wearing somebody else’s face, because Nancy would have never thought she would see an expression like that out of Billy Hargrove. She never thought she’d see him so nervous and unsure. So out of his depth.

He was still straining to look at her.

“Hey, look at me.” Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper. If it weren’t for the stillness of the room, it would have been easily likely that she wouldn’t have heard a thing, even given how close she was to the conversation that didn’t involve her. “Not at her. At me.”

She could hear his quick and uneven breaths. She could see them with the rise and fall of his chest—so erratic. Steve just kissed him again, bringing a hand to rest right over Billy’s lungs as he did, as if to watch as the seconds passed as Billy’s breathing and heart rate slowed, relaxing into his lips like a sedative.

Steve was slow and calculated with his next moves. He didn’t let his hands travel too far south, and instead stopped at the shirt buttons just above Billy’s navel, undoing them with only one hand—his other hand was still up by Billy’s head, drawing circles with his thumb behind Billy’s ear.

Billy leaned into the touch.

It was soft, slow, and careful. Each movement designed to give Billy the chance to breathe, but not the chance to overthink and freak out again, and Nancy sat there, literally on the edge of her seat watching as the clothes started getting stripped off.

First was Billy’s shirt, buttons undone and laying open, exposing the final bit of his torso those two clasps managed to keep hidden. It wasn’t anything either of them hadn’t seen before, but something about the moment itself made it feel like they were all fully exposed.

Then Steve stood up, momentarily parting their kiss to pull his own shirt over his head with the help of Billy, who was pulling at the hem. She could’ve sworn she saw Billy chasing Steve’s lips, his head practically levitating up off the bed to follow Steve’s movement to savor just the extra split second of contact.

They took the opportunity of their already parted lips to take Billy’s shirt off the rest of the way, tossing both of their discarded garments on the floor behind the bed, as if they were obstacles in the way of the finish line.

Steve was back down within seconds, hands not immediately making a move to take off the rest of Billy’s offending clothing, and instead taking the opportunity to explore the canvas of Billy’s chest. She could tell that it was completely hairless, which was in striking contrast to Steve’s.

She always loved Steve’s chest hair. She loved the way it felt running through her fingers.

And so did Billy, apparently.

She hadn’t been paying too much attention to where Billy’s hands were. Not until they landed right on the same spot of Steve’s chest where hers always landed, stroking up and letting the gaps of his fingers wade through the coarse sea of hair.

And Steve’s hands were traveling the same route they always did on her, on Billy. Up, and over the breast, squeezing the soft tissue. If she was being honest with herself, her and Billy weren’t much different in the realm of chest size, and all things added together, it was like she was staring at herself in a way.

One of Steve’s fingers brushed over Billy’s nipple and Nancy could have sworn she heard him gasp at the sensation. Or maybe that was just her, because she was so intently focused on Steve’s hands that she sat there waiting, expecting to feel something when Steve’s finger grazed him as if she really was the one in Billy’s position.

But she felt nothing, and without even thinking, she snaked her hand under her own shirt, sticking it under the wire of her bra, and fully giving herself into the fantasy playing out before her very eyes.

She no longer had the mind to care whether or not anyone was looking at her.

Things were finally looking like they were progressing. Steve and Billy kissed for a long while, easing into everything at an agonizingly slow pace for Nancy, but at least when Steve finally reached down to work at Billy’s jeans, he didn’t freeze up.

Undoing Billy’s belt with one hand probably wasn’t the most time-sensitive way of doing it—Steve’s fingers kept fumbling as he tried pulling the end through the loops. Steve seemingly refused to move that other hand away from sitting in the center of Billy’s chest. Nancy could only assume Steve was feeling the same sensation Nancy was feeling with her own hand pressed to her chest—that strong and chaotic pumping of blood through her veins.

When Steve finally managed to free Billy of a closed zipper, he didn’t hesitate all the much before slipping that same free hand below the waistband of Billy’s underwear, and it was like there was a sudden jolt of electricity that was felt by all three of them, despite only two of them having had any contact for a circuit completion.

While it was a collective jolt, they all reacted pretty differently.

Nancy’s eyes widened, and she could have sworn she felt the beat of her heart pause completely for a full second.

Billy produced a sound, seemingly against his will and completely uncontrolled. Nancy could only describe it as shockingly delighted. She also assumed Billy was having a whole separate reaction downstairs…judging by Steve’s reaction.

Because Steve smiled, almost deviously, like he had a plan in his mind, and Nancy was sitting on the edge of her seat just waiting to hear it.

Steve dragged his tongue along his upper lip, as if he was staring directly at a dinner platter of all his favorite foods.

Steve brought himself even closer to Billy, chest resting against chest, his weight on top of the other boy, his mouth less than an inch away from the other boy's mouth.

He didn’t kiss him. He just let his hot breath hit Billy’s face as he spoke the words directly into Billy’s agape mouth.

“What do you wanna do?”

Nancy could actually see it that time. Her eyes had drifted down back to where Steve’s hand was still below Billy’s waistband, and she didn’t fail to notice the very subtle movement, and the ever so slight laugh that came from Steve in response.

“Someone’s eager,” he said.

Billy didn’t respond. He just stayed lying there with wide open eyes, mouth hung open in a perfect display of shock.

Steve didn’t acknowledge it—hell, he probably wasn’t even aware of it, so locked in and focused on Billy—but Billy was hardly the only eager person in the room, and it wasn’t like she was being subtle about it. She was biting her lower lip, and grinding against her heel much faster and violently than before. She wasn’t just eager, or excited. She was outright desperate.

More than anything, she was excited for Billy’s answer to Steve’s question. It was the one thing they didn’t discuss beforehand. She didn’t think they had to, seeing as that part was just between him and Billy, and not herself. It didn’t feel like she should have a say in any of that.

She didn’t want to have any say in it, because even if she was asked—just like Billy had been asked—she was almost positive she wouldn’t have been able to come up with an answer. Even sitting there without the question posed to her, she had no idea what she wanted. All she knew, all she wanted in that very moment, was to know what they wanted.

Something about knowing another person’s deepest desires lit something up inside Nancy. It was the type of thing Steve would never normally share with her, or with anyone for that matter. She could only assume the same for Billy. And yet, she was sitting there, right within earshot of an admission she was never meant to hear.

Billy let out a high-pitched whimper as Steve moved his hand against him. It was a sound that clearly made Steve happy, but it wasn’t the sound he—and Nancy—was waiting to come out of his mouth.

Steve dropped his lips back onto Billy’s, and it was less like a kiss, and more like he was trying to suck the answer from his throat. Kissing him into a sweet delusion that the words he was saying were just thoughts inside his head, where only he was privy to hear them.

Billy let out a long exhale through his nose, melting into the kiss. Clearly, whatever little spell Steve was casting was working wonders.

Steve parted too soon, leaving Billy chasing the kiss and meeting nothing but air after lifting his head up from the surface. He was absolutely delirious. High off of Steve’s kiss. It was like truth serum, and all Steve had to do was ask him one more time.

“What do you want to do, Billy?” he asked. “Whatever you want.”

There was barely a second of silence before Billy hummed and said

“Fuck me.”

Steve showed a look of momentary surprise, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear Billy say.

That thing he had said in the car, about it feeling like he was losing his virginity all over again, turns out he really wasn’t all that far off. She knew from the very beginning that Steve didn’t really know what he was doing. She knew this was as new for him as it was for her. But, it hadn't been very obvious that he was in way out of his head until right then, when his eyes had grown wide and he was suddenly at a loss for words.

“Oh—ok…”

It seemed that Billy noticed that too, and the delirium wore off.

“You’ve never fucked a guy before.” It wasn’t even a question. It was more like a realization.

There was so much going through her head. That initial excitement she had when he’d said it—that skip in her heart beat and hitch in her breath—hadn't disappeared by any means, but it was certainly muffled by all the other noise. The concern for Steve, the feeling of being exposed, the worry over the fact that everything had stopped and the desperation for it to continue. But more than all of that, the loudest thing ringing in her ears were all the questions she had about Billy.

He had been subverting all her expectations with every move since the moment he stepped through that front door. Every word out of his mouth was like a brand new piece of information that disproved scientific fact, leaving her to scrap everything and start over from scratch. The words that Billy said, while exciting to her, were the very last ones she expected him to say, or want. Steve seemed to be taking it all in with ease. All up until that point, when he finally felt like he was the fish out of water.

Steve was speechless and still, and his silence would have been palpable if Billy hadn’t taken away any ability he would’ve had to form words by taking hold of the nape of Steve’s neck, and suffocating him with another kiss.

Nancy was taken aback by just how well the two of them seemed to fit, like adjoining pieces of the same puzzle. Steve’s face softened and his eyes relaxed almost instantly when Billy kissed him—just like Billy when he was the one in Steve’s place. They were so easily able to calm each other, make each other feel safe. It was like they could read each other’s minds. Like they knew more than she did.

Nancy would be lying if she said that didn’t strike a nerve. Part of her wished she could be privy to the telepathic conversation taking place between the two, but another part of her wasn’t sure she’d want to know what they weren’t saying out loud, because if they weren’t saying it out loud, maybe it was for good reason.

Nancy thought a little too hard about Billy’s request…or was it a demand? She couldn’t really discern his tone from how low he spoke. She wasn’t very far from them, but the volume in which he had said those words had made it seem like they were a mile away. Those words. God, was it stupid that she never once considered that to be a possibility? She was grateful Billy wasn’t looking at her to see the look on her face, because it wasn't doing all that much to put down the rumor that Nancy Wheeler was a prude. Hell, she was beginning to question it herself because she couldn’t even wrap her mind around the mechanics of it all. Surely it wasn’t the same as what she and Steve did.

Steve. Billy had said it himself, although Steve hadn’t confirmed, she knew the truth. No, of course he hadn’t.

Steve seemed to finally find his bearings, and spoke in stark contrast to the blubbering mess he’d been just moments ago.

“No.” he said, pausing to take what seemed to be a relaxing breath, “You’d be the first.”

There. The confirmation that had Nancy sitting on the edge of her seat. Nancy never thought of Steve being anything mysterious. He seemed to be an open book. But if the past week had taught her anything, it was to stop acting like she knew everything all of the time. But, she couldn’t help but feel a little smug at Steve’s confirmation, because at least there was one thing she’d gotten right.

“But…”

There was always a “but” wasn’t there?

“I’ve done, y’know, that before.”

Without saying another word, Steve pushed himself off of Billy and rolled over to pull something out of his nightstand drawer, leaving both her and Billy speechless with his admission.

So much for Steve being an open book, because in all the conversations they had about Steve’s rendezvous with a good chunk of the girls in his year, somehow anal never came up? Nancy could only sit there and try to think about who. And by the pleased yet shocked look on Billy’s face, she could tell he was wondering the same thing.

Nancy ran through the list of names in her head. Stacy? No way. Lori? Not a chance. Abigail? Well, that name was a surprise to start with as Nancy only ever knew her as the girl who sat in the front pew and carted a bible around along with her textbooks. On the other hand, she wasn’t deaf to the jokes that flew around about girls like Abigail, that “the Jesus freaks are the freakiest in bed”. Perhaps there was actually some truth to that.

Somehow, in her spiral, she’d missed a few steps, and once back in reality she found herself looking at the two boys undressing each other the rest of the way with an alarming amount of haste. She was partly worried, with the way Billy was desperately pulling at Steve’s jeans that he would cause a tear in the denim. Something must’ve been said between the two of them that she hadn’t picked up to warrant it, or perhaps it was just another telepathic exchange she should be grateful she didn’t have to hear.

She wished Steve had thought to take that route with the last thing he said, because that was all she could think about. She continued to run through the list of girls, never quite settling on the most likely candidate. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about it, so rather than wasting her energy on shoving the whole thing down, she twisted it around. Instead of going all detective and trying to suss out the girl, she thought about the boy, about Steve. She thought about what Steve must’ve felt. She thought about what he must’ve looked like, about the sounds he would have made. She wondered if they were anything like the sounds he made when he was with her.

Then, somehow right then, it dawned on her that she wasn’t going to have to continue to wonder.

With that thought, any reservations she had, any worry of being watched or feelings of uncertainty were gone as she let her fingertips breach her waistband.

By the time she’d gathered herself again, her eyes first caught sight of the now larger pile of clothes on the ground, and she didn’t even have to look up to know that the two of them were completely naked. Somehow, when she did look up, the sight did nothing for her. Well, at least, them being naked changed nothing. They were still doing that same little back and forth as before—long desperate kisses and wandering hands—the only difference was there was one less barrier, and less up to the imagination. She’d seen Steve’s naked body a countless number of times before, and as for Billy, there wasn’t anything surprising below the belt. It was exactly as she expected. Nothing for additional intrigue.

It wasn’t too much too fast, which was something she knew she was grateful for. And even though her care over potentially being watched had mostly subsided, it was a lot easier to ease into everything with the two boys in front of her with faces pressed so close that any view they might have had of her would be minimal.

She tried not to think about what she was doing. Everytime she thought too hard about it, it never worked. She’d sink, and her mind would run instead of wander, and the overthinking would get to her right before the cliff's edge, but only ever close enough to see it. Something would stop her before she would ever feel the free fall.

She had to shut off her control when she did it, and let her mind do its own thing. She stared ahead, and looked at what was happening before her—Steve was wielding what she now realized was the bottle of lube he’d pulled from his nightstand drawer, clicking it open, and squeezing what seemed to her like a generous amount onto his outstretched index and middle fingers—and she let her fingers move about, not thinking about where they were going, just blindly chasing the good feeling. Looking for the sweet spot.

Her eyes, having relaxed and nearly shut, darted open as a sudden sound entered her ears. Billy’s voice. Honestly, Nancy wasn’t sure if they hadn’t been talking this whole time, or if her hearing had only just returned.

“You sure you know what you’re doing, pretty boy?” Billy teased.

Surely he did. He said he’d done it before, and she couldn’t imagine it would be that different with Billy being a boy. Billy obviously wasn’t serious with his question. He was clearly meaning to coax something out of Steve. Only Nancy didn’t quite realize that until after he’d coaxed it out of him.

Steve looked cocky, smiling down at Billy with those gel coated fingertips still hovering in the air. “I know the golden rule,” Steve said, and those aforementioned fingers began their downward descent, falling into a place obscured by Billy’s thigh. It didn’t matter that Steve’s hand moved out of her vision, because she could see the chill run through Billy’s body. He inhaled sharply, and exhaled loudly, and Nancy didn’t know exactly what Steve was doing behind Billy’s thighs, but she knew by that reaction that Billy liked it. Steve smiled, proud of himself, and finished what he was saying. “As long as you’re feeling good, then I gotta be doing something right.”

Good God. Nancy knew the words weren’t directed at her but it was too easy to pretend that they were, because right as he said it, her own fingers had found the spot, and it felt more than just good. Steve was definitely doing something right.

Steve had started doing something to Billy. Something more than what he’d already done, because Billy was close to writhing. His neck was flexed as if he was straining to get a good look at Steve’s headboard, and the hand of his that she could see was gripping the fabric on Steve’s bed. For a second, Nancy wondered if he was in pain. Sure, she’d never experienced it for herself, but she could imagine that what Steve was doing, if not done correctly, would hurt. Nancy would have made that assumption based on Billy’s movements alone, but the sounds he was making were telling a different story.

If she wasn’t sure then, that Billy was loving every one of Steve’s moves, she was sure when Steve asked the question.

“How does this feel?” Steve asked, and she could tell by the look in his eye that he already knew the answer, and like her, he just wanted to hear Billy say it.

Billy nodded, almost frantically. “Mmhmm,” was all he managed to get out. It looked like he was preparing to say something else, his mouth open and tongue moving like it was beginning to form a word, when a sharp inhale replaced his voice. Instead of finishing the thought, and saying what he was going to say, he just nodded his head again, somehow even more frantic. Another one of those nonverbal cues, except this time, somehow, Nancy was able to pick up on the meaning too.

More.

“Like that?” Steve asked, again, already knowing the answer. Nancy was beginning to get on the same wavelength, because she knew the answer too. Billy nodded again.

“Feels good.” Billy barely managed to get the words to come out as something coherent. Little did he know that wasn’t necessary, as it seemed they could all read each other’s minds at that moment. “Don’t stop.” he added.

“Good.” Steve said, and Nancy could tell just the praise alone did something to Billy, letting out a small whimper. “You let me know if anything changes.”

Steve was always so attentive. That part wasn’t surprising. But the way it felt being an onlooker was. Not only was watching all the ways Steve was affecting Billy doing a lot for her, but just Steve alone, seeing how he wielded his power and control with a steady hand, how he was so focused on Billy, how he wanted nothing more than to make his partner feel good, first and foremost. It was the kind of thing that got lost in the heat of it all. When Nancy was in Billy’s position, Steve was the same way. Albeit, not as slow and careful as he was with Billy, not treating her as something overly fragile. Still, he was attentive. Always checking in, asking questions just for the sake of asking them, diving into her mind and not taking any advantage while in there. Just exploring, and getting to know the new environment.

While things had been moving very slowly, Steve hadn’t been with Billy for that long in the grand scheme of things. Not as long as he’d been with Nancy. Steve had been given over a year to learn how to read her, and understand her, taking notes each time they had sex on what she liked and didn’t like. He didn’t have that advantage with Billy, so perhaps that was another reason he was taking things slow, aside from the obvious. Thinking back, the first time she and Steve had sex, he was slow with her too. Maybe that should make her feel jealous, that that part wasn’t special. It didn’t.

Her mind was wandering again, and she was losing that feeling. Nancy turned her focus back on the boys. Funnily enough, during all her overthinking about how slow things were progressing, things had started moving way faster than she was expecting.

They were back to kissing, except Steve’s right hand stayed hidden in that space she couldn’t see. Their positions had changed too. Steve had settled himself in between Billy’s spread legs, and Billy hadn’t moved much, but she noticed how his feet had moved further up on the bed, his knees bent at a tighter angle than before. Steve’s other hand was back on Billy’s chest too, and it wasn’t until Nancy noticed that she realized her own hand was still slipped under her bra.

She watched, and matched Steve’s movements, and put herself back into the scene.

For the most part, aside from the satisfaction evident in Steve’s smug smile, Billy was the only one getting any sort of pleasure. At least, that was what Nancy assumed with all of his toe curling and sheet gripping. Steve had seemed too calm and collected to be anywhere near where Billy was at. She wasn’t blind to Billy’s dick. It was hard not to notice with the way it was sticking straight up, almost as if it was begging to be gawked at. She caught Steve glancing down more than once or twice to steal a look, and she didn’t fail to notice the way he bit his lower lip each time. Clearly he was feeling something too, but any visual confirmation like she had with Billy was hidden behind Billy’s fucking thigh. If she wasn’t already busy doing her own thing, she’d have stood up, walked over, and taken a look for herself, like a surgeon over an operating table.

Instead, she just kept looking out for all of Steve’s other visual cues, even going as far as tallying up each and every time Steve’s top teeth dragged against his lower lip.

She had to keep reminding herself to relax, and stop letting her mind wander. She was losing sight of the real task at hand—just enjoying it.

“I think you might be ready.” Steve said, as if Billy was a meal he was preparing.

Billy let out an exhausted groan. “You think?” he said sarcastically, lifting his head as if to gesture in front of him. Billy’s hands were still preoccupied with gripping the sheets. Steve’s fingers must have still been inside of him.

That thought right there sent a wave through her body. She really hadn’t quite grasped exactly what was happening until right then. Knowing was enough to bring the good feeling back, and quickly she was beginning to understand Billy’s urgency.

Steve lifted himself again, and those fingers she’d assumed were just inside of Billy were freed, and she could’ve sworn her heart stopped when she saw it. God, she was being dramatic. She’d seen Steve’s dick countless times, up close and personal, and yet she’d never seen him like that. It was the same, but the person it was attached to…it was an entirely different person. Somehow she hadn’t noticed it before, but Steve was sweating, and shaking. Normally he was so suave, never nervous when it came to sex, and Billy had him shaking.

Wait. Maybe she’d gotten it all wrong. Because the next thing she noticed was that Steve was no longer looking down at Billy.

He was looking over at her.

The illusion had fallen.

He was looking at her going to town on herself and she couldn’t even be bothered to stop. It was too late, he had seen, and somehow him seeing filled her with even more dread than Billy seeing would have.

And Billy. He was still laying there with his eyes looking up at the ceiling, none the wiser about what was happening between her and Steve.

The only thing Nancy could think as to why Steve was that he was upset by what he saw. All that time she’d spent working through her own potential jealousy, never once considering Steve might feel that too when it came down to it. Was he disgusted by her? So many emotions were flooding her head and she felt frozen, which didn’t help her case being stuck with one hand under her shirt and the other in her pants.

She just looked back at him, and tried her damndest to read the expression on her face. She had to have been missing something. She had to.

It felt like she had been staring at him forever, but Billy was still laying there so blissfully unaware that it couldn’t have been that long. She felt like she had to be wrong, because it didn’t make sense. Steve knew it was part of the plan, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Then she saw it. Maybe she only saw it because she was desperately looking for it, but in that expression so desperately trying to hide what he needed, she figured it out. Steve was nervous. He wasn’t jealous. Neither were the reason he was looking at her.

He was just like Billy before, looking at her, waiting for her to let him know it was okay.

She’d said it so many times before that she just assumed it didn’t need to be said again.

Then just one second later, she realized he and Billy weren’t the only ones that needed it. She needed it too.

They both needed to know not only was it okay to want it, but it was okay that they were—very obviously—enjoying it.

Nancy gave him a soft and knowing smile, and nodded her head. She glanced down at Billy and saw he still hadn’t noticed the pause in the action, and she took the opportunity to mouth the words—for extra measure—it’s okay.

Steve smiled, and it was as if he read her mind when he silently repeated her words back to her.

It’s okay.

It was all okay.

And finally—fucking hopefully—they’d jumped the last hurdle.

Steve had gathered his composure and resumed what he’d been originally doing when he lifted himself off of Billy—grabbing the condom, which she presumed he also pulled from the nightstand along with the lube, and sliding it on himself. It appeared to take him a few moments to get Nancy to disappear again. Part of her wished she could just make herself invisible, clearly it would have made things a lot easier.

Nancy was shocked that after every hiccup, every uncertainty, they were still going through with it. She felt stupid, really. How had she been so naive to think it would go smoothly. Maybe it was because it was always so easy with Steve, she figured it wouldn’t change much by just adding one more factor.

But then again, Billy was the additional factor, and perhaps it was her own fault that their initial plans went awry.

She took a deep breath, tossed away the thought, and freed her mind the best she could because she earned it, and she had no intention of giving it up. She couldn’t.

Steve kissed Billy again, consuming him like his lips had been coated with a potion to ease all tensions. Maybe they were. She knew the taste of his cigarette had done something to her. She licked her own lips at the thought, and she found herself craving that familiar taste.

Billy’s eyes were closed, not squeezed shut, but relaxed, like he’d spent all the energy he had to keep them open.

Steve gave Billy one last kiss and hovered there, his breath falling into Billy’s face. Nancy noticed the pink in his cheeks from the concentrated flow of hot air. As Steve was heavily breathing, he was also shifting around his lower half, and one of the hands he was using for support reentered that space out of her vision.

Steve’s face was so close to Billy’s that their noses were touching, and Billy had opened his mouth just slightly, as if trying to swallow Steve’s every exhale, and the words that were soon to follow.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” Steve said, and her own heart fluttered at the comment, but she pushed any extra thoughts about it away. “Tell me how it feels.”

Nancy took a deep breath, and held it.

She didn’t release it until Billy had opened his eyes.

It looked like at the same moment she released her breath, Billy started to hold his.

He looked stunned for a second, but it was short enough that neither her nor Steve had the chance to react before Billy eased their worries, when the wide eyes and clenched jaw and tightly sealed lips were followed up by a long, deep, and seemingly unintentional moan. It was breathy, almost like Steve had knocked the wind out of him.

Nancy’s eyes darted back and forth between Billy and Steve’s faces. Billy was still all wide eyed and open mouthed, but more relaxed, like the only facial muscles he had the use of were the ones controlling his eyelids. Steve was all focus, with his trained eyes and tight jaw. At first glance he seemed like he had it all together, but Nancy also noticed the hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, his own heavy breaths and stifled vocalizations and knew his mask was falling off right along with Billy’s.

Nancy didn’t have a mask on to begin with. She’d put all her chips in on the assumption that she’d be like a fly on the wall, going completely unnoticed so long as she didn’t provoke them. She’d been doing a pretty good job at not paying attention to her own actions and letting whatever wanted to happen, happen. While it felt good—God, it felt good—her masklessness ran the risk of humiliation. She’d been paying so little attention to her own actions that as she sat there, reveling in each and every one of Billy’s moans, she was completely deaf to whether or not she was making those same sounds. The tingling and shockwaves would have absolutely warranted it for where she was at right around then. Every orbit of her two fingers against her clit was enough to at least make her feel a little breathless each time.

Nancy couldn’t pull her eyes away from Steve’s bare hips, wearing Billy’s legs like a belt, ankles locked together and pressing into Steve’s lower back. She found herself glancing from mole to mole, mapping the constellations in her head. She’d never seen them from that angle before, so used to only ever tracing the moles on his back while he was asleep. It was like she was staring at an entirely new night sky, with so many stars yet to be named.

Even in the dim light, it seemed as though Billy glowed bright enough to reveal more than she’d ever been able to see.

Her eyes naturally fell to that one mole on his side that seemed like it was all alone. Bigger than all the others, just begging for her attention. Steve’s hips were moving at a much slower pace than what she was used to, and she was surprised that Billy wasn’t begging him “faster, faster,” like she would have expected—like she had been doing in the back of her mind. Their respective paces were mismatched, which made things slightly more difficult, but Nancy responded in the only way she knew how, and that was to simply follow Steve’s lead.

Edging wasn’t exactly easy without someone else’s manipulation, but Nancy was always up for a challenge.

She just kept focusing on all of the little details. Billy’s legs spread so wide she thought about how she could test just how flexible he really was. The pads of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Steve’s lower back, creating crevasses and making themselves a home under Steve’s skin. Steve’s lips seemed to have a magnetic pull against them, landing anywhere and everywhere on Billy’s body that they could reach, admiring and relishing in it all as if Billy was something to be prized and worshiped.

Billy whimpered, the sound caught in the back of his throat somehow making its way passed his tightly sealed lips and heard.

Nancy continued to slow down, continued to focus on the little things, trying her best not to be too swayed by the sounds Billy was making. She wanted to match right up with them, perfectly in sync like a pair of world class synchronized swimmers. Billy’s toes curled, so did hers. She faked it, responding with his every move with an identical move until she didn’t have to anymore, and their breaths became perfectly aligned. The illusion became clear.

“Fuck, Steve.” Billy said with all of his breath. It was the first thing either of them had said since the beginning of their whole ordeal. Or, maybe they had said something prior, and Nancy had just been way too deep inside her head to hear any of it as it was said. Billy’s voice sounded nothing like it had before. That deep voice she just knew was fake was completely gone. The pitch was high, nearly unrecognizable and entirely authentic. The sound of his voice drew her attention back to him, and of course out of all the things to catch her eyes first, it was that dumb head of hair.

She never really appreciated how golden it was. Those blonde curls splayed against the mattress, gleaming from what little light poured in from outside Steve’s windows. It was pretty, she thought, and that surprised her. ‘Pretty’ was rarely a term she’d ever associated with a boy. In fact, the only boy she’d ever really thought was pretty was Steve—his deep brown eyes and chestnut brown hair all paired together with that soft smile—Steve was pretty. Billy wasn’t pretty, at least, she didn’t think so before. He was tough, gruff—he looked like he was born to be covered in grease and adorned with leather. Pretty—to Nancy—always meant soft. Billy wasn’t soft. He was hardened, rigid, sharp as a knife.

That was what she thought.

But looking at him underneath Steve—the soft hair, the soft features, the soft skin…god…Billy was so pretty. Blue eyes, golden hair with skin shown so much love from the sun, the curves of his body looking like the never-touched dunes in the desert, making a shape she wanted to trace with her fingers.

Billy whimpered again, and her entire body felt it.

God, she wanted to touch him. She wanted to be closer.

She felt so far away, despite being just barely out of arm's reach. The distance seemed to only grow right along with her desire to become part of it all, fully, in every way.

Billy moaned again, and so did Steve, simultaneously, like Steve was the melody and Billy was the harmony. They made a beautiful song together. Nancy wasn’t sure how she felt admitting that, but it was the truth.

Looking up, pulling herself from her thought tornado, she finally started to grasp the situation. She’d been so inside her head, she’d missed so much.

Billy was panting like he was on the brink of passing out, and Steve didn’t look much better. He was fucking Billy. Like, truly, fucking Billy. Nancy could only stare as he thrusted himself in and out at a very quick pace.

That was also the moment she realized that she’d fallen behind.

Those moans and whimpers only grew in frequency, right along with the release of desperate expletives and pleas from both parties taking up space on the bed. They were close. If Nancy didn’t know just by the scene alone, she knew for sure when Billy began to chant it—alerting everyone in the room the he was on the brink.

Nancy wasn’t, not even remotely. She’d been so focused on slowing herself down, she’d been lapped.

“Steve, I’m gonna cum!”

“Me too,” Steve exhaled the words, “cum with me.”

Nobody was waiting for her, and it was clear she had no shot at catching up now. Perhaps last place was just her destiny.

One of Steve’s hands traveled down until it had found itself wrapped around Billy’s cock, red-tipped and leaking pre, visibly aching to be touched. Steve’s other hand stayed put on Billy’s chest, squeezing Billy’s pec like it was his own personal stress reliever, making a point to drag a thumb over an erect nipple, keeping Billy extra stimulated.

Nancy was out of breath just watching. She’d picked up her pace and she felt close, just not close enough. Billy and Steve were miles ahead of her, assisted by their raging teenage boy hormones.

Billy’s lower lips stayed trapped between his teeth, for so long and with so much force Nancy was sure there’d be permanent indentations left after they finally released their hold. Still, even with all that effort, he couldn’t keep the cacophony at bay. Nancy just wished he’d let it out, because the sounds we’re doing just as much to her as the sight of the whole thing was.

Nope. Too late. It was too late.

The next thing she knew, as she sat there shamelessly touching herself, standing on her tallest tiptoes trying to reach the height the two boys in front of her were at, they were coming. She watched as Billy’s cum shot up and coated Steve’s stomach. She couldn’t actually see Steve coming as he was still buried deep inside Billy, but she could see it in his face—the way his jaw went slack and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. She just kept trying, trying, trying.

Steve rolled over and collapsed on his back, completely spent. Nancy wasn’t sure exactly just how much time had elapsed, but it felt like an eternity and nothing at all at the exact same time. It was certainly not enough time for her as she sat there, the moment ruined, her orgasm hanging in the air just too far out of her reach.

She sat there and she closed her eyes, stretching as much as she could to reach what was so close, yet so far—too far. It was just too far.

Her breath remained unsteady as she sat there, daring to open her eyes again to take a look at the scene in front of her. At least they managed to enjoy themselves. That was what Nancy said she wanted. Right? Make Steve happy. Make him feel good. That was supposed to be enough, she thought.

She opened her eyes, and felt the immediate urge to shut them right back up when they were met with a pair of piercing blue from across the room. Billy was lying on his back, his hands coming to rest of his chest, right on top of Steve’s hand that remained through all of it. Billy was looking right at her. Steve wasn’t. He was on the side of Billy opposite of her, shielded by Billy’s body with his face buried in the pillows. He couldn’t possibly have known of the full conversation happening between her and Billy with just their stares alone.

Billy’s eyes barely moved from where they were locked in on hers, just glancing down for less than a second, looking straight at where her hand still breached the barrier of her waistband…then right back up. She half expected the next look to say it all, fill her with shame—it didn’t.

The look was almost…sad…in a way. She had no idea what she must have looked like from Billy’s point of view, but with a look like that, she could only assume she looked like a pathetic wreck. She assumed that the sad look was pitying.

She wanted to move—fix herself up and make herself more presentable, because she didn’t like how it felt as if there was a spotlight shining directly on her, lighting up all of her deepest insecurities for even the people sitting high up in the nosebleeds to see. None of what was happening was a part of her plan…although, thinking back, she never really got that far. She never considered what would happen in the aftermath.

But was it really the aftermath? In Billy’s eyes, maybe. In Steve’s eyes, definitely. But in her eyes?

Things hadn’t finished for her just yet. The only problem was, she was at a loss as to how she could possibly go about continuing.

Billy still stared at her, which only seemed to further complicate everything going on inside her head. She didn’t like how she couldn’t read his expression. Billy Hargrove was proving to be the one mystery she might need a little help with solving. She’d been going full sleuth all night, only to have been played a fool by Billy’s red herring.

His eyes on her made her skin crawl, and she did everything she could with her own stare to make him look away, or at the very least stop looking at her like that. Time felt frozen with his eyes on her. It felt like an eternity had passed.

She just stared back harder, adorning a look on her face just like El’s when she was moving things with her mind…angry looking—a little—but mostly just focused.

She felt stupid with her face stuck like that. She was just waiting for the pin to drop and the chorus of laughter to commence. That was always how it happened in movies. Somebody would do something embarrassing and not a soul alive wasn’t there to witness, taking only a second before raising their arms to point and laugh. They’d form a circle around her. They’d get closer and closer and she’d feel like the walls were closing in and soon enough she’d find breathing to be the hardest thing to do.

Of course, in actuality, it wasn’t like the movies. Nothing was. Not this time.

Those eyes that once stared at her, so unreadable, vanished, turned away in the opposite direction.

She took a breath, relaxing only a little. Then she realized.

Those eyes were facing Steve.

Suddenly all she wanted was him to look at her again, or at the very least, see what they looked like…despite the fact that they never told her a thing.

She didn’t like any of what was going on. She didn’t like how it felt like she was just waiting for something to happen. She didn’t like how it felt like she had lost all of her control over the situation. She hated that the most, being left to the mercy of other people.

Then, there was whispering, and she hated that even more.

It was what she’d asked for, to be left out of the equation—that pesky little remainder in a division problem.

She thought that was what she wanted.

It was becoming more and more evident by the minute that, even if their equation wasn’t clean, where everything could just be so evenly divided, she wanted to be a part of it—included, like a fraction, rational.

She wanted to know what they were saying.

She wanted to ask. She wanted to use that snark she practiced so well and remind them that whispering was rude when other people were around. She wanted to inject herself into their conversation, and she would have if her lips hadn’t felt like they’d been sealed shut.

It was awful. She felt so weak. She hated feeling weak.

She wanted to scream, but those sealed lips wouldn’t come loose even for that.

The whispering stopped. That was the first thing she noticed. Then, she noticed blue eyes back on her. Then she noticed those blue eyes had company.

Steve was finally looking at her. For a moment, when it was just Billy looking at her, she’d forgotten Steve was even in the room.

Usually she loved it when Steve looked at her. She loved when his eyes would always find hers from across any room, or when they were alone, watching something on TV, and his eyes would drift off the screen just to stare at her. She loved it especially when they were having sex, when he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, his pupils blown wide. Earlier, she had been hoping he’d look over at her. Now, all she wanted was for him to look away.

The eyes on Steve were just like the eyes on Billy. Sure they were deep brown, not a piercing blue. They weren’t that look of love and lust she had been yearning for. They were sad eyes of unnecessary concern and the weakness continued to seep into her.

Then there was a shift, and her gaze was pulled from the trance of Steve’s eyes, down just slightly to the source of the sound—the creaking crumple of moving limbs on a spring mattress.

Billy had rolled over onto his side, his whole naked body turned towards her. It was a vulnerable position, she noted. She thought back to the beginning of the night…god…how long ago was that? For her it felt like it had been forever ago, but really it could’ve only been a matter of maybe twenty minutes…

Twenty minutes or forever ago, Billy had been in her position—put on the spot, nervous, out of the loop, terrified, uncertain…there were more words, all of them running through her head like she’d consumed the whole thesaurus. There Billy was, lying in a bed with her boyfriend, fully naked, still coming down from the effects of the orgasm said boyfriend had given him. There he was with an outstretched hand, branching out towards her.

She remembered looking at him, smiling, and attempting to settle all those nerves he’d built up inside of him with her simple “it’s okay, Billy.”

She could only assume that was what the outstretched arm was. It was Billy—and Steve’s—way of telling her that it was okay.

It shouldn’t have been so simple, but upon her own realization, the tightness in her gut began to dissipate.

It was little, minuscule, but enough nonetheless to at least melt her out of her frozen situation—the hand that had stayed beneath the wire of her bra, clinging to her breast like a lifeline, moved down and out, and slowly met Billy’s still outstretched hand.

It felt so weird, especially with her other hand still where it was. She wanted to move it for dignity’s sake, but at the same time…she wanted to finish. Usually, she was okay with going without, but not now. Not this time. This time was different. It was her idea. She’d been thinking about it everyday for a week. She deserved her own happy ending just as much as they did.

She just kept looking back at them, trying to make them feel just as vulnerable as she did so that they were all finally on a level playing field.

Nancy hadn’t realized until her hand had finally made contact with Billy’s, their fingertips grazing past one another until they were both holding on, and she’d felt a pull…she may have misinterpreted the meaning of the outstretched hand.

Billy hadn’t yanked her by any means, but the pull was still strong. Strong enough that, given how she was caught so off guard, she was easily carried out of her chair. She had no way to fight against what she hadn’t expected in the first place. She quickly went from a seated position to standing, the heel she’d been riding falling to the floor with an ungraceful thump to the floor. Everything had, somehow, become ten times more awkward than it had the whole night…and obviously, that was saying something.

The night hadn’t seemed to really follow the rules of time. It was forever and twenty minutes, alternating between moments of fast and slow. Always too fast, and too slow.

This was the first time in the night that the timing seemed just right. Because everything started moving really fast.

Billy had sat up and moved his body to the edge of the bed, leaving an open space next to a rather confused Steve.

He’s leaving?

That was Nancy’s first thought. She could hardly admit it to herself, but there was no denying the feeling. Every ache in her gut told her she did not want that.

Though, she still hadn’t found her voice yet to say anything about it.

Billy was still holding her hand, and guiding her. She liked this. Normally she liked being the one in control—the one with the game plan—but in this instance, she was happy to follow someone else’s lead. She’d had enough of a spotlight.

Billy had guided her exactly where she expected, right into that open spot next to Steve, who just looked at her with a smile. By this point, Billy had finally let go, and she’d finally pulled her hand out from her waistband, making both hands free to do exactly what she’d been dying to do…touch.

She brought her hand up to cup Steve’s face, and she couldn’t hold herself back from kissing him. She had to. She thought she might die if she didn’t. She could also tell he was a bit shaky, part of it likely due to his own come down—she’d never seen him cum like that before…she knew, logically, that should’ve made her feel a type of way. It didn’t.

The other reason for the shakiness, well, that was just the even playing field at work.

The kiss was short, just enough for a taste and the gift of some much needed confidence. They parted, and she was surprised to find that Billy had made no attempt to make his escape. He just stood there looking at them with his knees pressing against the edge of the bed.

She half expected time to slow, just like it had in all her moments of uncertainty, but the speed continued to progress.

Billy bent over, wrapping his hands around Nancy’s ankles as he crawled back onto the bed.

Okay. So. He definitely wasn’t leaving.

Nancy looked to Steve, hoping he’d have an answer to at least one of the million questions flying through his head. He seemed to be able to read her mind. Unfortunately for her, she was only met with the shake of a head. So he couldn’t even answer one. Great.

Billy’s hands began to move north. Up. Up. They were at her knees.

Too fast.

She went to speak, but none of the words she had on her tongue would come out. All she could do to tell him to slow down was to tense, and pull her knees up.

“Sorry.” Billy said, and again, she realized, they’d been silent that whole time. Billy was the only one with the courage to speak.

Nancy took a deep breath, reminding her of everything she had witnessed up until this point. Reminding herself that Billy wasn’t scary, that she had Steve right beside her, that everything was equally scary for all three of them.

“What’s happening?” She managed to get those two words out. No more than that, just enough. She was less focused on the chosen words and more on the tone of voice, making sure she didn’t come off as angry or annoyed or any other emotion other than curiosity, because if what she thought was happening was indeed happening…she really didn’t want to scare him off.

She just wanted to be in the loop.

Billy still looked like he’d been frightened in spite of Nancy’s attempts, but he didn’t pull his hands away. They were still touching her knees. That had to count for something.

Nancy wanted to look over at Steve. She could feel his heavy breathing on her neck. She couldn’t, though. She had to keep her eyes on Billy as she awaited an answer.

Which was the best decision, because she was able to watch the lines on his face change with a release of tension as the fright formed into a new emotion. She got to watch as he put on a shy smile—shy…huh, she was still getting used to that.

“I just figured…” he began. His words were slow and obviously carefully chosen. “It’s not fair that only Steve and I have all the fun.”

Nancy felt her breath stop, the sharp inhale lodged in the back of her throat. Her whole body felt like it had gone numb, all except for her stomach, where she could feel the butterflies coming to life again.

“I thought—” the two words came out of her mouth in haste, the thoughts in her head being forced into words on her lips, no idea of the ones that would follow. Fortunately for her, the thought that had come out was an incomplete one, giving her ample time to clamp her lips closed and finish her thought before sharing it with the rest of the world.

She thought…she thought…Fuck! She didn’t even know what she thought, or, at least, her brain was suddenly at a loss for the word…or…well…the appropriate word.

In the narrative she created in her head, Billy only had eyes for Steve—for the boy, not the girl. In the story she wrote, Billy’s womanizer reputation was merely a facade, or a cover. It wasn’t truth. She’d been picking up evidence all night that seemed to prove every suspicion, theory, and story she came up with about that one piece. All until the moment Billy laid his hands on her. She thought…

“I thought,” she repeated, the words leaving her again without warning, “you were…?”

She trailed off, the unsaid word left hanging in the hair. She’d found the word she’d been looking for, but she couldn’t say it. It wasn’t the kind of word you said out loud in Indiana.

Billy seemed to understand that fact too, probably a lot more intimately than she did, judging by the look on his face. He looked relieved that she hadn’t said it. Then he sighed. “I am,” he said simply.

She had to double back, make sure he was answering the question she thought she had asked him. It just made her even more confused. “But?” Again with the incomplete sentences.

Billy was quick to respond. “It’s not like it’s a hardship, Nancy,” he said. “You wouldn’t be the first girl, and I’m sure you’ve heard the reviews.”

She had. Of course she had. She could always hear the girls whispering and giggling at the back of the class, going on and on about how Billy would go down on them. Initially, the first time she heard it, it made her want to gag.

Billy hadn’t existed in her pool of interest. Not until Steve had dragged him in against her will just to leave her sitting there with Billy at her knees, with the proposition at her feet, thinking about all those things she once heard those girls say and no longer feeling the need to gag.

“Are you sure?” It was all she could think to ask, because she feared saying anything more might scare him off. It was his fault she was thinking about the rumors. It was his fault she was curious to see for herself how true they were, even if curiosity had struck before. She pushed away that little part of herself that wanted to pry into Billy’s whole ordeal, and dissect the slight frown that disappeared quickly. She could worry about that later.

She just shook it off, and focused her attention back on Billy, staring him down like she was drilling holes with her eyes.

“I offered,” he said simply, “if it’s fine by you two, it’s fine by me.”

You two. Right. There were three of them there.

Steve was still at her side. She’d forgotten he was even there. Everything had just felt so intimate between her and Billy in that moment. She looked over at him, her neck feeling a little stiff, and she wondered if it actually felt that way, or if her brain was just tricking her to keep her from looking away from Billy.

Billy who was promising her Heaven, or something close to it.

Still, she strained against her muscles to look over at Steve, because of course he was the one standing in her way.

It was only fair, she thought. She was simply reiterating Billy’s initial point, but it remained true in her mind.

But, they hadn’t discussed anywhere beyond what Steve was allowed to do with Billy. They never ventured into the territory of herself taking part in the activity. Was it really fair to assume Steve would be okay with it? It was her idea after all, not his.

She looked at him, expecting an answer to come eventually, all the while mulling over everything and trying to reach a conclusion of what she might do if Steve were to decide he wasn’t okay with it.

Steve wasn’t looking at Billy when he next spoke. He looked at her, and every instinct was telling her to turn away, terrified of the look on Steve’s face when he would inevitably say no. She tried to look away, but she was frozen, forced to witness it all crumble before her eyes.

Except, everything remained intact. The foundation stayed strong enough to hold them.

It appeared Steve had been just as limited for words as she was, saying “yes” and “it’s okay with me” and anything else she and Billy may have needed to confirm consent with a simple nod of his head, and little reluctance behind his eyes.

And the reason behind that minimal reluctance was made clear by the few words he managed to ask Billy.

“What do I…?” Steve couldn’t finish his sentences either, apparently. What do I do during all of this? That was the question he was trying to ask. It was a good question, and she’d learned early on that Steve preferred to have a game plan.

Billy smiled at that, and it was in that moment that Billy finally took his hands off of her knees. The weight being lifted off of her made it feel as though her legs were levitating off of the bed.

Billy was crawling forward, except not towards her, but towards Steve. It only took him half of a foot in length to reach him, but once he did, he didn’t even take a breath before kissing Steve.

It was different that time. It wasn’t filled with heat and lust. It was closer to the kind of kiss someone might give to their significant other in the morning. Soft and chaste. It was like the kisses Steve gave her behind the privacy of an open locker door while the bell was still ringing.

Though, from the outside perspective looking in, the feeling it gave her was nowhere near the same. The blood quickly rushed to her cheeks and the butterflies that had seemed to have gone dormant in her bout of anxiety sprang back to life, fluttering around inside her stomach, and down. Tingling.

She watched Steve sink and melt and it was as if all of his worries had been swept away with the single, soft touch of Billy’s lips. It was incredible, really. You never really get the time to think too much about how a kiss makes you feel, so caught up in the moment, the memory of it only tangible during contact. She could see it now, though, and she wondered if Steve looked like that when he was kissing her. She could only hope.

The kiss was short, but to her it had felt like time had frozen still and she was just privy to their freeze frame. In reality it was just her own mind failing to keep up with the fastly growing pace of everything, when suddenly they had parted and Billy finally gave an answer to Steve’s unfinished question.

“Just kiss your girlfriend, Steve.” he said, his hand still gracing the side of Steve’s cheek, “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Billy’s voice was both incredibly reassuring and enticing. He backed away from Steve and looked at Nancy again, asking the question with his eyes alone, and earning a nod, no more words were left to be exchanged.

Billy’s hands made their way back to her knees, and she tried to watch as the moments started to unfold, but her vision was cut off by the boy to her left, taking her gently by the chin and doing just as Billy had said.

The weight of her own head had quickly become too heavy for her neck to hold, and she slowly lowered herself down until her head met the pillow, not once parting her and Steve’s connection at the lips. She was truly sinking—melting, just as Steve had been just seconds before. She was feeling every feeling she had witnessed, feeling the drug of Steve’s kiss begin to take effect, washing her cares away, and allowing her to succumb to the moment.

The moment—Billy’s hands running up her inner thighs and up onto her hips, feeling his hands form a ‘V’ at the thumbs, framing her like a photo.

He was slow with her, just like Steve had been with him. Perhaps that was where he learned it from, absorbing it all like a sponge. She was given every chance to stop his next move. She didn’t.

She held her breath as Billy’s fingers grazed the skin below her navel. She had become hyper aware in that moment of just how desperately she needed to be touched. She pulled back from Steve, resting her forehead against his in a moment of weakness. The contact at least gave her back her ability to breathe, the heat of her breath falling right into Steve’s open mouth.

Steve’s hands started to move, no longer pressed into the mattress in an attempt to keep his posture. They were snaking around to the small of her back, below the fabric of her shirt, skin against skin. His hand moved up her back along with the hem of her shirt, slowly rising to expose her whole stomach. The chill of the open air against previously covered skin caused her to shiver.

Steve took that as an opportunity to swallow her hot breath, kissing her while continuing to inch his hand up her back until he finally found what he was looking for—the clasp of her bra. It was something he’d always been so boisterous about—his ability to unclasp a bra with only one hand. To her and every other girl, it wasn’t that much of a talent, but she couldn’t say she minded that he was always so smooth with it.

Though, it was hard for her to focus on any of that when Billy was slowly unbuttoning and unzipping her, revealing her, exposing the one part of her that was just aching to be touched. The barrier slowly—teasingly—being removed just made that area even more desperate for stimulation.

Her focus on one single thing started to wane as both Steve and Billy’s hands started to do different but equal things to her on opposite sides of her body. Steve’s hands slithered to her front, stopping to rest just below the now loose underwire. She knew her chest was rising visibly, and she knew that Steve could feel it. Maybe that was why he let his hand sit there unmoving.

Though, there was no way Steve could’ve been sure that he was the one responsible for her heavy breathing, because Nancy wasn’t even too sure herself, not with Billy below her waist with a rogue finger sliding below the line of her underwear, not quite touching her yet, but definitely too close for comfort.

Just the thought alone of how close caused something inside of her to escape. Something that she knew would have been better kept hidden, at least for her own pride’s sake. The sound escaped past her lips, and despite them being smothered by Steve’s, there was no doubt the sound was heard.

She could barely hear a thing, it was like her ears were clogged shut, cause the laugh that escaped Billy’s mouth was muffled. But, she didn’t have to hear him laugh to know that he had heard her, because that rogue finger sliding around started to move closer…and closer…and…

Stars.

She squeezed her eyes shut so tight that she really was seeing stars, and just as she was beginning to feel a little less like she was falling from the sky, Steve had to keep on moving that damn hand of his, up…and up…and up…

“Mmm-Fuck.”

If she hadn’t lost all sensation in her arms, she would’ve slapped a hand right over her mouth. She just kept her eyes shut, because even if logically she knew neither of them were laughing at her, she simply couldn’t bear to look.

She just closed her eyes, kept them closed, and reminded herself of everything that preceded her lying on that bed with not one, but two other men…boys?? Whatever. She kept letting herself forget that little mantra—pretend like nobody’s watching. She just wished they would tell her…though, she guessed she shouldn’t complain considering the feeling she was trying to hide, that good—amazing—feeling…well, she was just going to have to let them continue to work their magic.

Even with her eyes sealed shut, she could see every move they made like a movie playing on the inside of her eyelids. Every physical sensation was so visual. The cool air meeting her once covered hips following the friction of denim dragging against sweaty skin, the weight of Steve’s hand over her breast, his palm warm, and his tongue licking into her mouth, slow and savoring—she could see it all. It was like it wasn’t her. It was like she was watching someone else be stripped down and felt up.

Though, the only thing she cared about was the fact that it was working. She was relaxed, and it felt good.

Really good.

Before she knew it, her jeans were being pulled over her ankles, and she couldn’t even care about how exposed she was, wearing nothing but a hiked up shirt and lacey panties. All she could care about was how close she was from going from feeling really good to insanely good.

Finally regaining strength in her arms, she reached up and pulled Steve in closer, deepening the kiss. She wasn’t afraid when he was close. She was starting to realize she had nothing to fear about Billy either. In some weird and twisted way, his presence was a comfort too.

It was very possible it was only the lust talking, but she didn’t have the time or the care to dissect any of that.

Her near-limp body rolled as Billy inched his way back up the bed, his weight creating dips in the mattress that she fell into. Billy’s breath was hot against her stomach, and she knew what that meant. Not just that Billy’s face was there—the temperature giving her something very vivid to cast in the blank space created from her still closed eyes—but…his face was there. It was close. Everything she wanted was right there.

All she could hear were the echoes of past gossip about Billy Hargrove that she never managed to tune out, no matter how hard she tried.

“So…is Billy a good kisser?”

The group of girls in the back of the lunchroom sat huddled, as if that had given them any semblance of privacy. The reality was that their giggles could be heard throughout the whole cafeteria. Nancy walked by the group with her lunch tray, annoyed by their loud whispering.

She couldn’t understand how Hargrove had gotten all the other girls to swoon over him, and she was tired of hearing about it. He’d barely been in town for a week.

Though, she couldn’t help herself but listen in. She didn’t want to hear about Billy’s sexcapades with the entire Hawkins High female population, necessarily. But at the same time, she liked to have all the info, and for some reason she needed to add whether or not Billy Hargrove was a good kisser into his file she had stored in her brain.

Out of the corner of her eye Nancy could see that the girl who had been posed the question was blushing red and laughing nervously. She had her head bowed slightly and didn’t meet eyes with any of her friends sharing a table with her.

“You could say that.” she said.

Nancy nearly stopped dead in her tracks. The tone of that girl's voice said a lot more than what she was telling anyone with her words. If that hadn’t been obvious enough, the gasp let out by another girl at the table sealed the deal.

“Are you saying???!!”

“He DIDN’T!!”

“OH MY GOD!!”

Fortunately for Nancy she’d reached her table by that point, so nobody had to witness what would’ve happened had she not had a steady surface to rest against has her knees buckled.

She was pulled out of her thoughts from the sensation of her body growing colder, caused by more absent clothing. She felt the cool air hit her chest first, as Steve began lifting her shirt up until the bottom hem had reached her neck. It was then that they parted once more, but only for as long as it took to get her shirt over her head and take her bra the rest of the way off.

She had been so preoccupied with that, and working through the straight jacket her tight fitting top had created for her, that she only noticed the breeze on her lower half when her panties were already halfway down to her knees.

The only way she could describe the situation was that it felt heavy. Like she had been pinned by a barbell loaded with too much weight.

Then Steve put his lips back on her and she felt just a little bit lighter, her back arching a little bit more on the bed, and it quickly started to make some sense. Though, it wasn’t something she could quite put into words.

Steve sucked the weight from her. That was the best she could do. She watched as her vision fully faded despite her eyes being wide open. Aside from that, every sensation was heightened tenfold. She could feel the hairs on her arms stand up like evergreens, she could hear the quietest sound from Steve’s swallow to Billy’s lips smacking.

She could feel Billy’s every exhale brush her skin. His nose wasn’t touching her, but it might as well have been because she swore she could feel it.

Which meant she was not at all prepared for what it would be like to actually feel it.

It was the build up, the anticipation, the vivid thought and imagination about what it would be like. It was something she never really allowed herself to want or crave and it was in her hands.

For a while, it all seemed to wrong. It seemed wrong to want something like that. It seemed wrong to want something like that while simultaneously having a boyfriend. Every step they had taken since Steve admitted to her what he and Billy had done in the boys bathroom at school had felt like a step in the wrong direction. It wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. Everyone would say that.

But Nancy knew. She knew this was right.

She was ready to narrate the whole thing like the moon landing, countdown and dramatic effect, but before she could even start counting…

Touchdown.

The first thing she felt was nothing at all, but everything at the same time. It was so intense that it was like her nerves shut down for a few moments, like someone going into shock. The world seemed to slow to a stop. Steve’s lips on her neck felt like they were barely moving, and Billy…

Before she could even process what was going on in that region, the world picked up the pace, and everything was back to regular speed…which, after spending an eternity in slow-motion, felt entirely too fast.

She could gather two things about what Billy was doing to her. The specific actions were lost, but what she did know was that A. it felt amazing, and B. he clearly knew what he was doing. What started out as intense pressure grew into something more, leading her to fall even deeper into the absolute mess she was before. Her toes curled so tight they started to cramp. Her hands gripping tightly where they’d found themselves buried into Steve’s hair like she was holding on for dear life.

Steve didn’t react much at all to his own hair being ripped from his scalp, making no effort to move himself away from where he laid with his face buried in the crook of her neck.

She wondered if he really knew what Billy was doing to her two feet away from him. His lips hadn’t once left their place against her skin, not enough for his eyes to catch a glimpse of what she could only imagine to be an intensely pornographic display. Nothing but Billy’s stray blonde curls peeking out between her spread legs. Framing him perfectly. Like an art piece. She’d be staring if she could only lift her head up.

How could Steve not want to look?

Why did she want him to?

Maybe it was just her dying to live vicariously through him. Maybe it was because at least she could see the look on his face. Maybe it was because at least someone would get to see.

Holy Hell, she was really letting herself get swept away by the Billy Hargrove effect.

Somehow that was the most embarrassing thing of all.

Nonetheless, despite being overtaken by everything else happening upon the weight of so many thoughts screaming through her head, she mustered up the energy to strip Steve away from her collarbone. Rolling her head towards him and pushing him out of the way. A free hand reaching up and lifting him up just a couple inches towards the sky. Enough to shock him into taking his first deep breath in what to her had felt like forever.

She finally opened her eyes, and they had been squeezed shut so tightly for so long that it took a little more than a few seconds to adjust and make out Steve’s face. When she finally could, he was still staring down at her. But the look in his eyes wasn’t one of focus. His eyes weren’t stuck on her like glue like the boys in the movies watching the girl of their dreams walk past them, unable to look away. His eyes were focused, like he was straining to keep them turned her way. It wasn’t like the rest of the world had disappeared, like Billy wasn’t there. She could see that he knew, that he felt like he couldn’t allow himself to look.

She knew because she knew the feeling. Afraid to look. Afraid to let herself have that. Afraid of what people might think if they knew.

Fuck that.

With those same two fingers that still grazed Steve’s chin, she gave him the push that she had given herself. The shove over the cliff, trusting the water to break your fall. Trusting that everything would be fine in the end, and you’d be glad that you did it.

He didn’t fight the nudge, like he was waiting for her to give him that. Permission. She had already given him that, but she recognized that the doubt wasn’t just going to go away with a magic word.

It was wrong. That was how they had all been raised. They weren’t supposed to want this, and if they found themselves with the temptation, they were supposed to push it down. Out of sight. Never indulge.

If she could find the words, she’d remind him that they were well past that.

But the nudge was enough. She was no longer the focus of Steve’s attention. Billy was. She felt him against her hip. He was hard…again. It was impossible to miss with Steve instinctively using the side of her body for friction.

And Nancy had the perfect view as Steve’s pupils were blown wide. The perfect view of his mouth dropping open, drool pooling at his lower lip, the breath being sucked out of him, along with the word that seemed to be on everybody’s tongue.

“Fuck.”

That did it. That had done it. It was like her lungs suddenly stopped taking in air and the floaty, out-of-body fantasyland she was just living in disappeared at the seams.

It was back to high-speed, feeling every sensation, everywhere, so overwhelming, so right. She was watching it all unfold right inside Steve’s eyes. For a second she could actually see a birds eye view of the whole scene. She could see everything Steve was seeing. She could see Billy buried between her thighs, refusing to come up for air—she’d overheard somewhere that he was a swimmer, figures—using every trick in the book, everything he had at his disposal. It was everything. God it was everything.

It was happening. She knew that and Steve must’ve noticed something too seeing as how the hand of his that had still been on her breast had flinched, like he was trying to reach for something else…someone else.

Nancy stopped him in his tracks, though. Slamming her hand right on top of his because it was happening. She looked at him desperately, her chest rising up and down erratically. Steve glanced her way for just a second long enough to see, looking away from Billy, which she could only assume felt impossible, judging by the look of absolute desire written all over his face.

Then he did even more of the impossible. He took one last glance over at Billy, his breathing stopping completely, biting his lips, his eyes glossed over because he didn’t dare blink. He was savoring the moment, she figured out, because the next thing she knew Steve was no longer looking at Billy, nor was he looking at her. The world went dark as Steve’s frame eclipsed her view completely, sinking down into her lips. His hands remained where she kept them, starting to move once more, no longer stunned frozen by southern beauty.

And Billy, she hadn’t forgotten about him. No amount of mind wandering and Steve existing was taking her attention away from down below. Her toes were curling more than what she believed to be physically possible. The hand still on top of Steve’s was gripping him like a life preserver, sure enough to leave a bruise or two. Both of them with their mouths on her…it was entirely and blissfully suffocating.

She was fully engulfed, she couldn’t get any breath in or out and yet there was still enough open space for the noises to escape past her lips. A whimper followed by a moan that caused Steve to let up just enough to crack a smile. Billy didn’t let it affect him though, he didn’t stop, he kept going, taking everything with him to the finish line.

It was right there. She could taste it.

Right…

There.

All at once her heels slid down the mattress until her legs were perfectly straight and her toes were pointed like a ballerina, her grip on Steve tensed even harder, so hard she was sure she heard him whimper out in pain, her back arched so high that she wasn’t so sure she wasn’t being pulled to the ceiling by some invisible string.

All of that happened as quick as it disappeared, her legs went numb, her hand went limp, she sunk back down into the mattress and it felt like she was falling, as if the mattress was no longer there to stop her descent.

The world had gone dark. Like everything stopped existing. Something hot rushed up her body and pooled in her ears. When the heat went away, she started to shake like she was cold.

Slowly, one by one she regained each of her senses. The first to return was sound, but all she could hear was heavy breathing. She couldn’t distinguish which breath belonged to who, but she was able to determine all three of them were contributing.

Soon her sight followed, the room fading into picture, the dark room suddenly feeling so very bright. All she could see was the ceiling—Steve’s lips were no longer on her. That was when the numbness turned to tingling, and the tingling turned to feeling.

The first thing she felt was Steve’s hand still on her chest, with her hand still on top of it, still holding him in place. Quickly she realized that Steve’s hand was the only thing touching her. Steve’s hand was the only thing in direct contact with her aside from the bed underneath her. Still she knew Steve was still there, even though she couldn’t move enough to turn her head to look at him. She knew Billy hadn’t moved either. He wasn’t touching her, but she could feel his warm breath against her right thigh. She pictured him laying there, his energy spent, still just trying to catch his breath right along with the rest of them.

She felt something else on her thigh. Her other thigh. On the outside. A breeze swept through the room, the air hitting that specific spot quite differently from the rest of her body where sweat was cooling all over.

Context clues gave it away. She was sure she wasn’t the only one to finish. Steve’s heavy breathing and attempts at staying outside her view was enough to figure that out.

He was embarrassed, which was exhausting to realize. She figured they’d already jumped over all of the hurdles earlier.

Still, she had sympathy for him, and she knew better not to say anything about it. That part was for them. Just them. It could wait.

Instead, she finally forced her body to find the ability to move, and with that she also regained her ability to speak.

“Come here,” she said, turning her head, no longer allowing Steve to hide. With the hand that still held Steve’s she interlaced their fingers and initiated a tug. “Kiss me.”

Steve was slow, but not hesitant. The kiss was soft, gentle, and mostly cheste save for the slightest bit of tongue sneaking through before he pulled away. It reminded her a lot of his and Billy’s first—well…the first one that she had seen anyway.

Soon following there was a creak in the mattress by her legs. She lifted her head to see Billy standing to his feet.

She hadn’t forgotten he was there. Though, he had been so quiet for a moment there that she could see how someone else might have.

Billy paused, looking down at her and Steve, having naturally fallen into each other, almost entangled. It was like he was waiting for something to happen.

Before Nancy could even begin to try and piece together what could’ve been going through Billy’s head, the pause was over, and what followed was unexpected, but in hindsight really shouldn’t have been.

He started gathering up his clothes from the floor, quickly, like he was in a hurry. He wasn’t looking at them anymore, like they ceased from existence. But Billy’s demeanor—hiding his naked body with each stray article of clothing—said the opposite.

Steve seemed to have been paying just as much attention to Billy as she had, or even more. He sat up almost completely, letting go of Nancy’s hand in the process, leaving her completely untouched this time.

Billy didn’t notice, or at least he didn’t show it. He just kept moving, sliding into his boxers with his back facing them. When he started slipping one leg into his jeans, Steve lurched forward.

“Are you leaving?” He asked, and Nancy could only describe his voice as disappointment.

Billy stopped at that, and chanced a look back at that, turning only his head and keeping his back turned to them. Nancy had finally figured out how to read the unreadable. He was confused, and dare she assume, sad.

“I figured you two would want your privacy,” he said it so bluntly, and that all but confirmed what she was thinking.

What followed was another lull. Nobody could move. Nobody seemed to know what the right move was supposed to be.

Until Billy had decided the right move was to keep getting himself dressed, which she recognized to be the wrong move when Steve lurched forward, grabbing Billy by the wrist and stopping him, right then and there.

She expected Steve to say something, but the room remained silent. Another pause. Another goddamn suffocating pause.

Before she had time to process anything, Steve turned around, not letting up his grip on Billy’s wrist, and looked at her.

He didn’t say it. He couldn’t. She knew what he was asking. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes told her more than enough. She could see the desperation, the longing, the embarrassment, the pleading, the need.

She didn’t have to say it either. She just smiled back at him.

Steve quickly turned back to Billy.

“You don’t have to leave,” Steve said.

Billy attempted to pull away from him, but not hard enough. Nancy knew he could if he wanted to. It didn’t take a genius to tell that Billy was just as strong if not stronger than Steve. He wasn’t putting up much of a fight. Billy wanted to stay. Everyone knew it.

Steve pulled against his wrist, not hard, but quick enough that it caught Billy off guard, enough to cause him to stumble. Enough for him to nearly fall into Steve’s lap.

He didn’t try moving away after that.

Steve cautiously brought his free hand up to Billy’s cheek, gliding the knuckle of his index down to his chin. There was no pulling, Billy just seemed to know to follow the direction of Steve’s finger. Down, closer, closer…

They didn’t kiss, but they were certainly as close as possible to each other as they could have been. It was like they were waiting for gravity to do the rest.

“Stay,” she heard Steve whisper, and it caused a chill to run down her spine, and she wasn’t even the one he was saying it to.

Gravity seemed to finally take over, because next thing she knew Billy was sinking. She decided to look away that time. She decided that this one was allowed to be just for them.

“Stay.” She heard him say it again, and at that she looked back at them.

Billy was looking at her when she did.

He looked at her just like Steve, except unlike Steve, he was scared shitless.

She knew words wouldn’t be enough, and she wasn’t going to kiss him into submission like Steve was able to do. That wouldn’t work.

All she did was move over, closer to the end of her side of the bed, opening up enough space for two more bodies to lay down comfortably. That said all it needed to.

She was right.

Steve crawled back into the bed, settling down right in the middle, and much to everyone’s satisfaction, Billy followed him, kicking his jeans back off on the way down.

It took a minute for them all to get comfortable, each of them maneuvering their way underneath the covers, finding themselves each a position that was the most comfortable.

Nancy had grown cold, the covers only doing so much. She snuggled into Steve for warmth. He was lying on his back, but his head was facing the other way.

He was facing Billy, and she tried her best to be discreet as she peeked her head over Steve to see the two of them. Billy had his head on Steve’s chest, just the way she always did. Steve had his fingers running through Billy’s hair. It was always the other way around. It was always her.

She wasn’t used to that.

But she was starting to learn that she might have to get used to that.

Through all of it, Nancy somehow never once entertained the possibility that Steve’s feelings for Billy—and Billy’s feelings for Steve—went beyond something more than just sexual. It was becoming painstakingly clear that it was much, much more than either of them were letting on.

But, what was even worse was that she just might be okay with that too.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stranger things #steve/billy/nancy #trigonometry #mandi writes tresh #fic #stancy #yes I’m alive #yes the long forever awaited final chapter is here #AND IT IS 19K!#WHAT

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ciscowojciechowski · 4 months ago

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WIP Tag Game!

tagged by @lesparis83 who knows what a mess this post is gonna be lmao

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

going uhhhh reverse chronological here lmao

📝 lambert/frank 2

📝 untitled document (mad max oc fic)

📝 untitled document (mad max oc x the organic mechanic fic)

📝 tattoo fic

📝 luminaries threesome fic

📝 adam prose poem

📝 untitled document (spxtkr)

📝 tappsing

📝 untitled document (hoffheight)

not tagging anyone lol but if you see this and wanna do it then pretend I tagged you!!

#i haven't started another chapter of my ongoing fic yet + there's a vague idea for my next ray/gavin fic in my head #+ there's my long-awaited (by me. and maybe Ian lmao) not-smut the mule fic #which i haven't actually Started it's just in my head #ANYWAYS LMAO HERE YOU GO

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cyclone-rachel · 2 years ago

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kara Danvers & Querl Dox Characters: Kara Danvers, Querl Dox Additional Tags: One Shot, One-Sided Kara Danvers/Querl Dox, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kara Danvers is in the Phantom Zone, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mentioned other characters - Freeform, Supergirl (TV 2015) Season 6 Summary:

Or, Kara finds herself in the Phantom Zone again.

But this time, someone else is with her.

#papa don't look #supergirl #supergirl au #karadox #ship: believe in all the possibilities #fanfics #the long awaited kara and brainy in the phantom zone fic is finally done!#happy 5x10 anniversary #also i don't think anyone else will get this but fun fact in brainiac 4's dialogue there are 2 references to other roles #that brainiac's actor has played #'i am here for my son'= 'i am here for azmuth' from showdown part 1 #'we will meet again kryptonian'= 'we will meet again thunderer' from aa's bring on the bad guys #also yes i do headcanon emo brainy was in a relationship with red lantern kara #just decided right now that would be the case

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drizzlesketchingnook · 1 year ago

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Ahh Fusion Fall, My Old Friend

Slowly but surely getting back into my dormant fusionfall hyperfixiation. 'Might do some art and stories for it when finals are over on my end.

#teller talks #I remeber having an old fic plot around somewhere on my drive + some ocs for my heros/pc characters too #might do some concept art for them to get back into the swing of it and post the results here #Well once I also post some long awaited twst stuff as well #I have a lot of stuff to catch up on

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maddybthorne · 2 months ago

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I want a BBC Merlin fanfic where Hunith visits Camelot as a surprise. Merlin doesn't know she's coming, only Gaius knows that she plans to visit. This is set in a time period where all the knights are alive (I'm looking at you Lancelot.) and Arthur is Prince, but running the Kingdom as Uther is unwell.

Hunith pulls up to Camelot and is walking towards the Castle through the citadel, burdened by her bags, when a cheerful voice rings out. "Do you need any help, miss?" It's one of the many Castle servants.

Hunith explains that she is heading to the Castle to visit her son who works there, the servant then offers to carry her bags.

"Oh I don't want to be a bother." Hunith replies

"It's no bother at all! Really, I was heading that way already." The servant insists and they both make their way to the castle, "What's your son's name by the way, I might know him if he works here."

"His name is Merlin." Hunith responds with a smile. The servant stops walking and looks at her. It's not only him that stops at this announcement.

"Y-you're Merlin's Mother?!?" A nearby servant who had been close enough to hear the conversation says in awe.

The courtyard that they're walking through gradually fills with hushed whispers as the news spreads. Everyone knows of Merlin. The Prince's manservant who had managed to not quit in the first week of serving him. Merlin, who changed the Prince from a spoiled brat into a good man whom the Kingdom was proud of and eagerly awaited the day he would be crowned King. Merlin, who had followed the Prince into battle time and time again to save Camelot.

I want a fanfiction where The Entire Of Camelot loves Merlin and is thankful for his role in making Arthur a good person. Where not only the Knights, but the Castle staff meet his mother and collectively decide that she is That Woman and treat her with Respect. Where they treat her like Royalty.

Ofc Gwaine loves her. That's his best friend's mom. Hunith looks at all the knights and adopts them on the Spot.

And Merlin is either really confused by this behavior or knows and just lets it happen.

Arthur has no idea what's going on or why but he treats her with reverence and love because that's his future Mother in Law and he's very much starved for parental affection which she gives him (and the knights) in spades.

But yes, I just want a fic of people meeting Hunith and being like "Thank you for giving birth to your son. I'd die for you both" and her being like "...please don't."

(Bonus if Leon meets her and is just like. "How did you survive being around that little shit (Merlin) for so long?" And she just laughs and gives him advice, which makes him cry because he's just so tired. #LetLeonRest2024 I will push this agenda till I die)

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #random camelot citizens #people meeting Hunith #Merlin's mother #This idea was just stuck in my head #I've read fics where the knights meet her but none that focus on the castle staff meeting her #I just want people to give Merlin the love he deserves #and also for Arthur to experience true parental support #long suffering leon #sir leon the long suffering #Let Leon Rest 2024

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harrysfolklore · 2 months ago

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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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liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 302,625 others

ynpiastri highlight of imola: LEO LECLERC

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

view all 3,998 comments

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 ?

view all 4,173 comments

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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TWITTER

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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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ynpiastri has added to their stories

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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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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

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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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liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 402,726 others

ynpiastri fitting 💋

view all 4,688 comments

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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TWITTER

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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

3K notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 4 months ago

Text

Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise…they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn’t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

3K notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 7 months ago

Text

Chasing Cars | Masterpost (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆status: completed

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female reader, Namjoon x OC, Jin x OC, Jimin x OC, Taehyung x OC and others.

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆total word count: 218.5k (lmao my fingers slipped)

☆a/n: I got the idea for this fic just a little over a year ago, following a power outage that lasted for a few days where I live and Jungkook's live where he kept coming back with different outfits (the white dress shirt hit me right in the gut). It took me a long time to write, as I was working on multiple other projects at the same time, but I am so so happy to be ready to share this baby with you guys <3

☆Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing this monster <3 (and for all your encouragement and support)

☆And a special thank you to @wintaerbaer and @btsborahaee for encouraging me and supporting me whenever I screamed to you about this fic

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆discord server link here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

➳Teaser (Jungkook pov): the day he met you (1.1k)

You fucking touch her, you're dead.

➳Chapter one: when the Incident happens (11.8k)

Jungkook is Tae's best friend.

➳Chapter two: when Jungkook teases you (10.2k)

You know I hate that nickname.

➳Chapter three: when Valentine's Day happens (13.1k)

You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.

➳Chapter four: when you and Jeon Jungkook clash (9.5k)

I was just going to say that we should keep this between us.

➳Chapter five: when you have to go back to reality (12.1k)

We just pretend nothing happened, no?

➳Chapter six: when Jungkook hosts his friends over (9.6k)

I really want to kiss you right now.

➳Chapter seven: when doubt makes you question everything (15k)

Why do you want to believe the worst of me so bad?

➳Chapter eight: when secrets are unveiled in New York (13.5k)

I want you.

➳Chapter nine: when a party makes Jungkook jealous (11.2k)

You make me insane.

➳Chapter ten: when time slips through your fingers (10.1k)

I don’t want to lose you, peach.

➳Chapter eleven: when Jungkook visits Taehyung in Paris (8.4k)

Can’t wait for you to be back.

➳Chapter twelve: when it breaks (7.3k)

I can’t be with you.

➳Chapter thirteen: when it's too late (8.9k)

I have to talk to him.

➳Chapter fourteen: when the truth comes out (12.2k)

We never told each other how we felt.

➳Chapter fifteen: when you find your way back to Jungkook (7.4k)

You came?

➳Chapter sixteen: when Jungkook takes you out on a date (8.9k)

I think I was waiting for you my whole life.

➳Chapter seventeen: when forever awaits you (9k)

Getting to love you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.

Drabbles in Jungkook's pov (might add more as the story goes on)

➳Chapter 1.5: the first party (1.6k)

Then why are you bringing him home, peach?

➳Chapter 3.5: Valentine's Day (1.1k)

We should have hung out like this before.

➳Chapter 4.5: a walk through campus (852)

You love it, peach.

➳Chapter 5.5: the return to reality (2k)

You wanted to talk?

➳Chapter 6.5: hosting his friends at the apartment (4.4k)

What the fuck is wrong with you?

➳Chapter 7.5: when he realizes (2.5k)

Isn't she Taehyung's sister?

➳Chapter 8.5: the engagement party (6.6k)

Have fun while it lasts.

➳Chapter 9.5: jealous jungkook (3k)

Shouldn’t I prove to you that you’ve got nothing to worry about?

➳Chapter 10.5: the morning before Paris (1.7k)

I promise I'll come back to you and make it work.

➳Chapter 11.5: the kiss (1.2k)

Just this once.

➳Chapter 12.5: after losing you (4.6k)

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

➳Chapter 13.5: returning home (4k)

What am I supposed to do?

➳ Chapter 14.5: losing you again (3k)

I can't believe you've been wearing the necklace

➳Chapter 15.5: a conversation with Taehyung, and his reunion with you (2.6k)

It’s never been like that with her.

☆☆☆☆☆

#chasing cars masterpost #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #chasing cars #chasing cars series

3K notes · View notes

saetoru · 1 year ago

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on.

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend.

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he��s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned.

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast.

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up.

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek.

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand.

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway.

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that.

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake.

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.”

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit.

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself.

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness.

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench.

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him.

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.”

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself.

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with?

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him.

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded.

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings.

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too.

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well.

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend.

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings.

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted.

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself.

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on.

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole.

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands.

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know.

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn.

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff.

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away.

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here.

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him.

“why did you leave me?” he asks.

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists.

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love.

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days.

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly.

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out.

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead.

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head.

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying.

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight.

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper.

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray.

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion.

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could.

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt.

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you.

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating.

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known.

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him.

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

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