#why is there two tags which is the right one help

[minetro]

Like him

tags: established relationship, gn!reader

word count: 0.8k

notes: in which kinich looks like his dad

“Hey, Kinich?”

“Mm?” He hummed, imploring for you to go on.

He waited, but no words left your mouth. He gave it one, two, three seconds. No reply. An unusual pause of silence, filled only by the crackling of the campfire and your unsure breaths. He wasn’t facing you, his hands and eyes trained on the fire to keep it steady, but he could tell you were opening your mouth, just to close it, then opening it again. Rinse and repeat.

It was only until after Kinich turned around to face you fully, a tilt to his head, that you mustered up the courage to speak your mind. You had to break eye contact and divert your attention to your feet, but the minute details don’t matter.

“Why… do you, uh, dislike compliments towards your appearance?”

Kinch blinked. Then, he also found his gaze falling to focus on the already well lit fire. Poking it around with a stick to keep his hands busy.

“What do you mean?” He had urged you to elaborate, but deep down he really only hoped that question would cause you to fall over your words and drop the whole thing all together.

“Well…”

Shit. You’re still talking.

“Sometimes, when I tell you that your hair is… pretty, you go quiet, and then you don’t let me play with it after that,” You cleared your throat, “Or when I say your eyes are breath-taking, you just ignore it all together.”

This time, Kinich was the quiet one. Maybe the sound of the crickets would be a loud enough diversion for you to forget any conversation that had been held between the two of you for the past 5 minutes. Not the most full proof of plans, but one he had to roll with.

“You’re doing it again! See? You completely ignored what I said,” You kicked your feet on the dirt.

“...Sorry,” He said with a sigh.

Kinich stood from where he crouched, took a few steps towards you, then prompted himself right next to where you sat on the log. He rubbed his palms together, grappling between what to say, what not to say, or to say anything at all for that matter.

“It’s not exactly a fun story,” He decides to start, “I don’t want to trouble you with it, that’s all.”

“You know nothing you say could burden me, right?” You crossed your arms, staring intently at him.

Kinich relaxed into his seat, slouching a bit as he let out a breathy chuckle.

“Mhm, I know,” a knowing smile adorned his face for a second before it fell to his usual stoic one, this time a tinge of seriousness had made its way to the reflection in his eyes.

“When I was born, it was apparent whose features I had inherited the most from,” He sucked in a breath.

“My dad.”

It felt as though there was a drop in temperature, like the mention of that man halted everything that breathed. Kinich peeked over at your direction, studying your expression as if to discern whether he’d made you uncomfortable and to stop talking, leaving this conversation just at that. He gave you a few moments, just in case you wanted to say something. However, all you gave him was a supportive nod and that was his queue to keep going.

“As I got older, I grew into those features, and began to look more and more like…”

Like him.

“Go on,” You gently rest a hand on his shoulder, understanding.

“Because of that, my mom started looking at me…”

…with fear in her eyes. Kinich wanted to say, but he shook his head.

“She looked at me weird. From then on, she started avoiding me altogether. Whenever I offered to help her out with chores, she’d tell me to go to my room. If I insisted, she’d have me help out with tasks where I’d be out of her sight,” He dug the soles of his shoe deeper into the dirt, holding back a sigh, “Then… eventually, as you know, she… left.”

“Kinich…,” You moved the palm of your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, shifting his gaze to your own.

“When I talk about your features, I’m referring to them as your own. And when I look at you, all I see is… you. Only you.”

Kinich’s breath hitched, his eyes only slightly widening, but not a small enough detail for you to miss. Then, his features softened as his lips were overtaken by a warm smile. The kind of smile that had your heart melting, and your knees kissing the ground.

“Hah…,” He nuzzled into your warmth, his cheeks a light dusting of pink. He rested his own hand atop your own, kissing your wrist, “When’d you become such a smooth-talker? Did Ajaw teach you?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully, pulling him into an embrace, “Oh, please. If I took romantic advice from him, I’d end up with a rock, and that’s being generous!”

Taking in your scent, he buried himself deeper into the dip of your neck.

“Mm… I’m lucky you didn’t then.”

—

Far away from here, a small pixelated dragon let out a mighty sneeze.

[strang3lov3]

Implication

Dennis laughs loudly, awkwardly. “No, I am not gonna hurt you!” he chuckles, his voice a little higher now. “Why would I want to hurt you? I mean, I could. I could. Anyone could, really. But that’s just - well, that’s just human nature, right, honey?”

Tags - dubcon/noncon, implication that things might go wrong for you if you don’t have sex with dennis, soft slasher!dennis /stalker!dennis? implied roofies, unprotected piv, fingering, cunnillingus, dennis typical sexism, threats of violence, dennis and his tools, implied age gap, both characters are adults. 4.2k words A/N - for the dennisfuckers ♡ I know Dennis is a loser who sucks at sex, but if I’m gonna write Roman Roy, another canonical loser who sucks at sex to be a fuckgod, I’m gonna do the same to Dennis. I am shamelessly attracted to Glenn Howerton and I need him to do evil, evil things to me.  Also, thanks for everything these past few days, with my blog. I love you guys ♡

You really should’ve gotten that headlight fixed. 

In the endless dark, with rain violently pounding on your windshield, you can’t see much of anything. Your wipers are moving as quickly as they can on their fastest setting, but the endless stream of rain keeps them from really being effective at all. It’s useless, with everything swallowed up by shadow and storm.

You’re really not one to drive through bad conditions. It’s just not worth it to you to take risks like this, so you slow down and ease your car to the side of the road, watching as the rain drums so loudly against it. You send a quick text to your friend, letting her know where you’re at and what’s going on, then turn on your hazards. 

It’s been raining a lot like this lately. But it’s April, so it figures, though it doesn’t help. It feels so…claustrophobic to be stuck in the rain like this, in the dark. You can barely see what’s in front of you. You can’t even hear your own thoughts. If you think too hard about it, it feels like it’s closing in on you. You’re staying calm.

But the downpour does slow, eventually. When the rain has slowed enough to be safe to leave, you put your car into drive and press on the gas, though you don’t move - the wheels just spin. You open your car door to check and yep - mud. You pulled off just enough to get caught in a patch of slick, cloying, slippery mud. And now you’re fucking stuck. 

Great. 

You’re about to Google a tow company to call when two lights appear in your rearview mirror, inching too close to your car. You’re on edge immediately, watching as the driver gets out and approaches you. The driver is a man, no taller than six feet. He walks with an umbrella in hand, then taps on your window. You roll it down just a few cautious inches. 

“Hey - hey there. Just checking to make sure everything’s okay.” 

You tap your overhead light, then squint at the man. He’s not in a uniform and he doesn’t have a badge, which makes you feel nervous. He’s just some guy. 

“Everything’s fine,” you say, smiling politely but remaining distant. 

The man - you’ll know him soon - looks around, noting your muddy wheels. “Doesn’t look fine,” he laughs, eyes twinkling at you. Even in the low light, you can see that they’re piercingly blue. The stranger is handsome, with his curly hair and sharp jawline. He wears a navy flannel, rolled up to his forearms. Veins spidering down to his hands. He’s maybe in his mid-forties.

“No, yeah. It’s fine, just - my car’s stuck, that’s all.” You smile kindly. The man smiles back at you. 

“Is there anyone coming to get you?”

“Um,” you hum, checking your phone’s screen to see no text back from your friend. “Not yet. I was about to call–” 

“Oh, don’t call. Yeah, don’t call.” The man laughs awkwardly, shifting on his feet. He seems a little nervous. Maybe not nervous, but…edged? Amped, even? “C’mon, look. Let me give you a ride, okay? The rain’s about to pick up again and—” 

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “No thank you, I’m gonna call my friend. I appreciate it anyway, sir.”

The man looks stunned when you interrupt him, when you go so far as to take out your phone in front of him. Already he thinks you’re a fucking bitch. A man is speaking to you. He hates the way you keep your window rolled only a quarter of the way down, fucking open it. He touches the glass and rests his fingers on the rounded edge of the window, wiggling them, itching…

His jaw ticks and his nostrils flare as he finds his composure. A deep breath in, and a deep breath out. 

“You’re not gonna get a signal out here. It’s a total dead zone,” the man says, watching as you scroll through your phone’s contact list.

“Thank you, but—”

The man interrupts next. “Go on, look. Look.” He uses a finger to gesture toward your screen, where a little SOS sign sits in place of the usual bars that indicate your phone’s connection. Stray rain drops splash onto your skin. “See?”

He’s right, unfortunately. When you check your messages, you see the text you sent earlier to your friend still hasn't been delivered. He swallows thickly, then speaks again,“And you’re very low on gas, too,” he adds, wiggling his finger toward your gauge cluster. “And that’s not great, considering.”

And he’s right about that, also. You didn’t notice you were close to empty, but you really don’t like that he did. You swallow nervously as you shut off your phone, heart beginning to beat a little harder. You feel a little sick inside about this. He’s just rubbing you the wrong way. 

“Why don’t you just come with me, yeah? It’s really—really no problem.”

“I really appreciate it, but I don’t know you, sir,” you tell him, and that should end it.

But of course, it doesn’t. It is smart, though. Very smart. He expects responses like this from young women like you. As he gets older, you girls get smarter. You’re not quite as…willing as you used to be. Not so compliant. It used to be that he could just tell you to come with and you would. But women nowadays, with your fucking safety classes and whatever. You’ve got no problem telling men like him when you don’t feel safe. Such bullshit.

“Oh, come on. Yes you do. You know me!” he says, smiling so big, whitened teeth on display. “It’s me, Dennis! From the other week? Paddy’s Pub, I was your bartender.”

You stare at Dennis blankly, then shake your head slowly. “No, I don’t think I do.” 

“No, no, see. You’re misremembering or something, sweetheart. Maybe in the dark you don’t recognize my face but just…come on. We’re really not far from your place at all, right?” Dennis rattles off your address then. “Short drive, right?” 

Your stomach drops then, and your gut begins to really churn. “You, uh…you know where I live?” you ask, feeling your palm perspire against the steering wheel. 

The man, Dennis, tilts his head, those blue eyes narrowed as he smirks at you. “Well, of course I do. I took you home when you were too drunk to drive, remember? God, you were a mess.”

You most certainly do not remember. You never, never drink to the point of being blackout. You stare at Dennis, trying so hard to place him. He does have a familiar face, or maybe it’s just that he’s handsome. Paddy’s, Paddy’s…

…it’s ringing a bell now. You remember some shitty, dingy bar, filled with strange people. Stopping inside to pee, maybe. Maybe having a drink? Yeah, maybe. You remember something tasting bitter…

The rain starts to pound harder on your windshield, startling you. Dennis waits impatiently, now with his hand on your car’s door handle. “I made sure you got inside,” he adds, “You said I was sweet.” He smiles at you in such a kind and disarming sort of way, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“So come on. Just a - just a quick ten minute drive, right?”

You pause, tapping your fingers along your steering wheel as you contemplate. You have that sticky, nagging, ugly feeling inside, but maybe it’s nothing. 

It’s nothing. It’s probably nothing. How many times have you worried yourself sick only to be completely wrong about whatever you thought was wrong, right? Countless. And Dennis, he’s charming. He looks, you know - clean…and gentlemanly.

Your windows roll up with a soft whir, startling Dennis as he quickly jerks his hand away. He opens your door for you, holding the umbrella over you as he takes your hand and helps you out of your car. He walks you quickly to his, a dark green Range Rover, and ushers you into your seat, then slams your door shut. Dennis quickly rounds the front of the vehicle and then joins you. 

He runs a hand through his wet curls, mumbling, “Okay, okay. Perfect. You’re there, good, good…” He adjusts his rearview mirror, quickly tilting it down to get a look at the tools he keeps in the back of his car. All the seats are down, good. There’s his blanket back there - Dennis eyes you quickly, sizing you up in his mind. You’d fit, all wrapped up in the fabric. If it got to that point. 

A beat passes then, and he takes off in the Rover. You watch your car in the side mirror, how it disappears into the dark and the rain as Dennis drives away. He touches his hair again nervously, throwing you a sideways glance. “So you really don’t remember me?” he asks, voice chipper and forced/

You shake your head. “I don’t. But…you said you were my bartender?” you ask, studying his face. He has a handsome profile, a sharp nose. 

“Yeah,” Dennis answers. “Made you a cocktail.”  

You try so hard to place him. That face, that voice. “What was it?”

“Oh, it was a…Moscow mule, if I remember correctly.” 

You nod slowly, rolling his answer around in your mind. It is something you’d drink, after all. “Okay. Um, what was in it, exactly?” you press.

“Ginger beer, vodka. Lime. The usual,” he rattles off. Rohypnol. “Ice. I know how to make a Moscow mule, if that’s what you’re asking. Been bartending since you were in diapers, sweetheart,” he jokes, clutching the wheel a little tighter.

“Was any ingredient like, I don’t know. Expired, maybe?” You hope your tone sounds casual still. 

“Alcohol doesn’t expire,” he says flatly. “Why?”

“And it was only the one?”

Dennis nods. “Yep. Just the one,” he confirms. “It was a normal drink, babe. I could make you another if you wanna go b–”

“Actually, you can turn up here–” you interrupt, pointing at a familiar road sign.

“I know where to fucking turn,” Dennis snaps before you finish. In the silence, he shakes himself out of it quickly, then apologizes, voice a little softer now. “Sorry, god. I just know where to turn, is all. You…just relax, okay? That road’s closed.” Dennis turns the AC on cold and blasts it. He needs to cool off.

You’re really starting to feel sick now, because you know that’s a lie. Dennis drives past the next road too, and the next one. You’re on the endless, winding road for a long time, now thinking about that one episode of The Sopranos. Sil had Adriana in the car. And the road never seemed to end. 

Fuck, what do you even do here? If he…if he locked you in the trunk you’d at least be able to knock a tail light out and wave your hand, maybe scream for help. But who’s around on this road? You look at the floor, the dashboard, anywhere in the car to find…anything. You clutch your car keys - dammit. You were given a pepper spray keychain that’s nowhere to be found. It had fallen off a while back and you never replaced it. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Dennis keeps looking at you. Not just your face, but your body, too. Your nipples are hard, peeking through your shirt. No bra, hm? The image sends a rush of arousal through his body, cock twitching in his jeans as his eyes linger too long. “Are you cold?” he asks.

“A-a little,” you murmur.

You flinch when Dennis reaches for a knob on the dashboard. His hand is so big, so veiny. Strong. With his sleeves rolled up, you can see the muscles twitching in his forearms. How easy it’d be for him to–

“What, did I spook ya?” Dennis smirks.

Your mouth is dry as sandpaper as you search for a way to answer him. And how awful that feels. Like being picked on in class when you don’t know the answer or you weren’t paying attention. 

“I think I did. But you seem nervous, sweetheart, not really…spooked. Maybe - maybe you’re scared?” Dennis chuckles quietly, keeping his eyes on the road, acting like he’s not rock hard from your anxiety. He grips the steering wheel tighter, skin stretched out thin over his knuckles. “What, am I - am I scaring you or something? Are you scared of me?”

You force out an awkward laugh, feeling around or the car’s door handle. Dennis notices this. His lips twitch and he exhales, shaking his head a little. “You’re scared or you’re not, honey. Can’t be both.” 

“I’m uh - honestly, I am a little scared, yes.”

Dennis clicks his tongue. Not disappointed, but not surprised. Like he expected that answer, or maybe…maybe he even hoped for it. “Mm. I mean, that makes sense, though. The right setting can make anyone feel…well, vulnerable.” Dennis throws you a sideways look, eyes tired and dead as he does his best to smile warmly. The mask is slipping. It always does around this point. “And in a storm, well. That’ll do it, huh?”

A flicker of lightning and a booming clap of thunder has you jumping hard enough to make the seat belt lock against you.  “No, it’s good that this happened,” Dennis continues. “I’ve been following you around, you know - in a good way, of course. And I knew there was something wrong with your tires. They’re bald, so - so that’s why they’re spinning in the mud back there. And I recognized your license plates.” 

“How did you–” 

“Don’t worry about it.” There’s another bolt of lightning, long and windy and spindling, lighting up the sky. “God, how about this weather? You’re lucky that I found you tonight. Wouldn’t wanna - wouldn’t wanna leave you stranded out there in the thunder and the lightning.” 

“Yeah,” you murmur, watching the speedometer’s needle rise and fall, heart pounding so hard you can feel it behind your ribs and in your throat. Your voice is starting to wobble, too.

“I love storms like these, honestly. We’re out in the middle of this quiet road. Nobody could see us, or hear - hear much of anything, really.”

His words hang heavily in the air as he waits for you to speak, tilting his head. “Right?”

Your throat feels dry. “...Right…” 

Dennis grins. “You know, I think we should pull over,” he says, checking the rear view and side mirrors of the car. “Yeah. Yeah, we should pull over. Before something…happens. The rain…”

His fingers flex against the wheel, and you swallow hard as Dennis applies the brakes, and the car starts to slow. He knows where he’s going, like he’s done this before. You can make out two parallel lines in the grass, worn deeply down to dirt. He has done this before.

“Where are we going?” you ask. Dennis doesn’t answer. You try again, and he still ignores you. “Are you–” you swallow hard, “Are you gonna hurt me?”

Dennis laughs loudly, awkwardly. “No, I am not gonna hurt you!” he chuckles, his voice a little higher now. “Why would I want to hurt you? I mean, I could. I could. Anyone could, really. But that’s just - well, that’s just human nature, right, honey?” 

Dennis puts the car into park, then exhales heavily and unclicks his seatbelt. He turns to you, eyes all dark and lidded. “I am going to fuck you,” he tells you, unblinking. “I mean, I would like to. I want to fuck you. You’re very beautiful, you know. Very clean.”

Desperately, you pull on the door handle, though it doesn’t open. “Been meaning to get that fixed,” Dennis lies softly, watching you desperately search for a way out of this. What can you do, though? He’s thought this through. He’s so practiced, perfected his craft.

“And you’re not going to say no, are you?” he adds, taking in your terrified expression. “No, of course not. Because - I mean, look around, right? All these woods. Do you think you know your way out?” he asks.

“I’d follow the tire tracks,” you whisper.

Dennis laughs. “Oh, sure. But with what lighting?” He sniffles then, and twists his neck to crack it. 

 This is usually the part where girls like you start to scream. Not all, though. Some freeze up and go quiet, and that’s nice too.

“Do you think anyone would hear you?” Dennis asks. “You know, if you screamed? Because I don’t think they would.” 

You stammer some incoherent answer, voice so wobbly and terrified. Dennis opens his window and yells then, screaming as loud as he can. When he’s done, he smiles calmly and shrugs. Your ears are ringing. “See?”

You jump when Dennis reaches for your seatbelt and unclicks it. “So with all of that in mind, why don’t you head back there?” Dennis nods toward the back of his car. “And take your clothes off, hm?” he adds, touching your thigh, feeling the fabric damp from the rain. “You’re all wet. That can’t be comfortable.” 

Dennis licks his lips, watching you tremble as you slide out of your seat and crawl into the back. Only one bulb lights up when he presses the dome light, and tilts his rearview mirror to get a nice look at you as you slowly peel off your clothes. “All of them,” he reminds you. “Underwear too.” 

“You know,” Dennis says, meeting your eyes through the mirror. “I think this is romantic. The storm, the trees…it’s kind of nice, huh?” 

“Y-yeah,” you whisper. “It’s very romantic. Um - I really, I like the woods,” you tell him nervously, voice shaking. “My dad and I used to go on h-hikes in the woods, and bike rides. He named me after–”

Dennis chuckles. Humanizing yourself. Smart. He grunts then, swinging his body around the driver’s seat to meet you in the back. He looks like an animal as he crawls toward you, sitting on his heels as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing a toned chest, his hair neatly trimmed. His body is slightly muscular, and so fucking attractive for as awful as he is. Isn’t that just something. And he’s got a pretty cock, even at half-mast. Long, a little on the slender side, with a perfectly pink tip. Trimmed, just like his chest is. 

You look around yourself, seeing a plethora of items he keeps back here. There’s duct tape, rope, a case full of what you can assume are a variety of blades. Very Dexter of him. Your breaths turn short as your heart pounds loudly in your ears. Is he gonna cover the car in plastic wrap, too? 

“Don’t - don’t look at that shit. It’s nothing, alright? Just lay.” Dennis says with a wave of his hand. “Lay on your back,” he repeats impatiently.

When you do, Dennis pulls you back by your hips. You gasp at the feeling of his strong hands on your body, angrily grabbing at your flesh. He spreads your legs wide and pushes your knees toward your chest, your cunt now on display for him. You hiss when he drags two of his long fingers up and down your seam. Dennis clicks his tongue, “You always this fucking dry?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he spits onto your clit and watches his saliva drip down, lips twitching. Dennis dips his head lower then, and licks you from bottom to top, humming at the way you taste. Somehow, girls like you always taste better when you’re scared. 

He kisses you a little, then begins lapping at your cunt, savoring all of that sensitive flesh, where you’re growing wetter just for him. There’s no art to it, no special technique beyond simply using his tongue to get you wet enough to fuck. And not only that, but he eats you for himself and his pleasure, not yours. 

Dennis adjusts and pushes his ring and middle fingers into you, curling them repeatedly. God, he loves this. Being inside a person this way. Feeling the heat of their warm, wet guts. It’s beyond satisfying to him. He growls against your cunt, sending vibrations through your core. Scruffy cheeks and jaw scratching your inner thighs. 

You find yourself rocking against his tongue - when’d that happen? Dennis snaps his fingers and points at you with the hand wrapped around your thigh, “Sit still,” he commands, then continues licking you. “Sorry, just - I need to do this my way. Okay? You’re fucking with my rhythm when you do that shit.”

“Okay,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“Oh, of course not,” Dennis mumbles in between kissing you. He licks you a little more, then sucks your clit between his lips and teases you that way. It makes you shake and tense up, then Dennis releases you with a chuckle.

He pulls back and rests against the door of the Range rover, eyes half-lidded and heavy as he lazily pumps his cock, head tilted. Dennis pats his thigh twice, urging you to come straddle him.

You crawl over, putting your hands on his broad shoulders as you hover above him. From this position, you can get a closer look at every one of his tools - maybe you can even grab one. You measure the distance in your mind, considering the move you’d have to make. “Hey, what did I fucking tell you?” Dennis snaps, reaching for your jaw to pull your attention back to him.

“I was just looking for condoms. Don’t you have condoms in here?”

Dennis laughs, putting one of his hands on your hip, and with the other, lines his cock up with your entrance. He notches the head inside you quickly, then pulls you down, bottoming out with a moan. “Oh, you’re cute,” he says. You whimper at the stretch, squirming away from him and the way his cock bruises your cervix. “No, I don’t use condoms, babe. Gonna have to take my load.”

Dennis palms your ass cheeks, slowly moving you up and down his length. “Birth control is a woman’s problem, anyway. I hope you’re on the pill. It’s just…well, irresponsible not to be. Anything could happen to you,” he says.

He thrusts up into you, guiding your hips to match his pace until Dennis has found something that works for him. Him, not you. If it were up to you, you’d slow it down a little more, have him roll his hips. But this isn’t about you, is it?

“Touch me,” Dennis rasps as you ride him. You slide your hands up his neck and touch his jaw, where Dennis then sucks on your thumb. He could bite you. He could.

He notices your eyes are closed. Bitch. You should be so lucky to be in his presence, fucking look at him. “No, no, no. Eyes open. Yeah, look at me. Look at Daddy,” he tells you, forcing you to stare into his eyes. “You’re very pretty, aren’t you? Not the prettiest I’ve ever seen, but…close.” You should thank him, he thinks. You mumble out a moan that could be interpreted as such.

Dennis fucks you from beneath, his once measured thrusts turning a little sloppy now as he pushes himself into you over and over again. He’s so warm, with beads of sweat rolling down his temples and neck, pooling at the dip between his collarbones. 

He’s annoyed at how quiet you are. “Louder, sweetheart. I said louder. I need to hear you, right?”

Dennis smiles when you moan for him, too deluded to hear how fake it is. Or - is it? Maybe not. Could be real, could be a vocalization of your fear. Of your upset. He licks his fingertips and wriggles them between your bodies, searching for your swollen clit. He rubs it in circles as you fuck yourself on his dick, coaxing along your orgasm. 

And he recognizes the way you try to stave it off. You dread your release - they always do. But it has to happen. “Hey, hey - c’mere and listen for a second. No, don’t stop. We’re not done here,” he pants. “You need to cum for me. And if you do not cum for me, I am going to hurt you. Okay? And I mean it - I will hurt you, with - with all of my tools in here. Okay?”

Dennis watches your brows knit together in worry, your bottom lip wobbling a little. 

“Shit, sorry. I mean - I don’t want to, of course. Yeah, I don’t - don’t want that at all, do I? I know you certainly don’t.”

“No,” you whisper. “I don’t.”

“So do the smart thing and fucking cum,” Dennis says.

The threat works almost immediately. You change the rhythm, fucking yourself on his cock in a way you find most pleasureable. His tip reaches all those places inside you that you can never seem to find on your own, and kisses against your cervix just how you like it. With the pressure of his fingers on your clit, you cum on Dennis’ cock in seconds, whimpering his name. 

With the rapid pulsing of your cunt around his cock, Dennis cums too. He blushes the most delicate shade of pink and moans your name loudly, clutching you against his chest as he spills into you, rope after rope of his spend. 

When he’s done, he settles against the car door once more and smiles, all self-satisfied and sleepy and blissed out. It’s so eerily quiet, save for the sounds of your shared breaths. “Sounds like the storm blew right past us” he laughs. “Well, let’s get you home.” 

reblogs, asks, all that good shit would be great ♡ love you all.

[youhideastar]

Hello! I just needed to say that your tags on that ABO post (#maybe someday I will write that essay on how I think a/b/o starts from a fundamentally ace perspective#ie that it starts from a premise of no desire#into which desire arrives as a rare unexpected unwelcome and often traumatic deviation from the baseline) shook my brain like a magic 8 ball and I would like to subscribe to your newsletter.

I mean I guess I kind of already have since I follow your blog but like. That is genius and also I think that approach helps explain part of why I loved your ABO bingo series so much!

Anyway just wanted to say that, hope you're having an awesome day!

Aaahhhhh thank you so much! All credit to the initial poster for kicking my brain into gear on this. (For the curious, here's the series the ask mentions!)

But yes, to expand on those tags, there's so *much* about a/b/o as a genre that, to me at least, starts from an ace perspective.

For example, in most a/b/o universes where there are, in fact, betas (as opposed to another common take on omegaverse worldbuilding where there are just alphas and omegas), then the inherent starting premise of the world is that there are two kinds of people--people whose lives in large part revolve around intense, consuming, and uncontrollable sexual desire and people whose lives don't--which is to say, the inherent starting premise is that some people are (at least symbolically) ace. Indeed, in most of these fics, that's considered unremarkable in-universe... which is, from that point of view, a fantasy of a world where asexuality is commonplace and accepted. (Then again, it's rare for the main characters of such stories to be betas - it looks like a fantasy of ace acceptance, but the symbolically ace characters are relegated to the sidelines, as if a life that doesn't revolve around that kind of desire isn't worth telling stories about.)

In another example, a/b/o fics often posit a worldbuilding where the norm is that a person will only go into heat or rut (i.e., experience sexual desire) in reaction to a particular person--maybe a "fated mate"--and indeed, that the presence of sexual desire is proof of some kind of intense emotional connection between two people... which is basically just a sci-fi-ification of the experience of being demisexual. It's really that straightforward.

And that's without even getting into the ways that heat and rut often appear in fics as funhouse mirrors of what garden-variety allosexual desire looks like to people who don't experience it themselves. The original post says that "magical pheromones made them do it" sounds just as plausible to an ace person as "looking at someone in their underwear made them do it," but you don't even need the word "magical" - the idea that hormones could make you lose your head with desire and behave in ways that would embarrass you (or worse) once their influence wanes is both a sci-fi conceit for fanfic porn and actually how many, many people on this planet go through their lives on a regular basis.

What's ironic is how, despite all this, most a/b/o fic makes no room for real ace people (as opposed to symbolic aces, i.e., betas), especially sex-repulsed ace people. What are those folks supposed to do when heat strikes? Or other people who, for various reasons, might not want sex or be in a position to consent to it? I think a/b/o often teeters on the edge of body horror; in those situations, it tips right over. Most a/b/o worldbuilding does nothing to address this--and I think that's one of the great blank spaces in the genre that is ripe for exploring with all kinds of interesting fic!

[egrets-not-regrets]

Dandelions and Yarrow (5)

Yarrow, like the dandelion, is a tough hardy weed that can survive and grow in harsh conditions. 

Amelia goes to Steelix Fortress and finally sees Alcyon’s condition in person. She agrees to watch over her bonded Astartes as he recovers. Alcyon eventually wakes up and he is so normal about it.

**Dialogue in Gothic language is bolded and italicized. **

Previous Chapter <<< Chapter Five >>> Next Chapter

Author's Notes:

Alcyon is so so normal. TW: Masturbation

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @legionsofthehungry

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

“Alcyon’s in a coma and not responding.” Eric’s words played repeatedly in her head after their conversation. She stared at her phone gripped tightly in her hand. He said something about their bond breaking which caused this. Regret and shame plagued Amelia’s mind. Why did she lose her temper at him like that? She shouldn’t have said all those things to him. Now look at what happened. 

Amelia made her decision. She had to go back to Steelix River. She couldn’t lose Alcyon. Despite what happened between them, he was still her bonded… and… she… she still loved him. If there was some way to save him, she had to at least try. 

She turned to Mara, “Mom, I’m sorry to cut my visit short. I need to go back to Steelix River. Something’s wrong with Alcyon.”

“Oh dear! That’s too bad, but don’t let me stop you. Just remember to call me when you get home. Are you going to be alright?”

“I…” Amelia hesitated for a moment before breathing out, her tone resolute, “I will be, Mom. Thanks.” I have to be. She thinks to herself.

She was about to go upstairs to use the computer, Mara’s hand on her arm stopped her. Her mother looked at her worriedly, “If you ever feel like you need help, or you need to come home, just call… ok?”

Amelia hugged her mom reassuringly, “I will. I promise.”

*************

After she got home, Amelia went straight to Steelix Fortress to meet Osteron.

“Alcyon’s dying. He’s in an induced coma right now to slow the effects.” Osteron didn’t mince his words. 

Her breath caught in her throat. Alcyon was dying. Even though Eric told her about Alcyon’s condition, he didn’t mention that it was this bad. A spike of regret and fear stabbed through her heart. No. No. Not Alcyon… she might lose him too. What had she done?

The pair nodded to the Iron Warrior standing guard outside the room as they made their way to the bed where Alcyon laid. 

She had never seen him in such rough condition. Or this vulnerable, she thought uneasily. The chaos Iron Warrior laid on the bed, unconscious, connected to a machine that measured his vitals. His skin was cold to the touch, much to her worry. Alcyonr was usually very warm to the touch, like a furnace, like most space marines. This wasn’t right. His skin shouldn’t be feeling like this. 

Answering Amelia’s confused and worried look, Osteron explained, “The sorcerer said his bond with you is almost completely severed and is only hanging on by a few threads. Since he is intensely bonded to you, a fully broken bond is typically fatal.” 

Amelia’s fists tightened, “We had a terrible argument before I left to go home, but I didn’t know it could break a bond like this.” she replied softly. 

Picking up on the issue, Osteron inquired, “You said you went home. How far did you travel?” 

She mentally calculated, “My hometown is a three hour flight away, so about 2700 kms?”

“There are different ways to break a bond, distance is one of them. It makes sense why he fell ill like this, but it takes about two to three weeks for Astartes to end up in this state, for most cases anyways.” The apothecary hummed thoughtfully. 

“I didn’t know.”

She nearly killed Alcyon by being so far away. Amelia covered her mouth, feeling sick to her stomach. Yes, she was undoubtedly scared, angry and heartbroken from what he did and said, but she didn’t want to kill him! Her heart sank, her own ignorance hurt him so badly. 

Osteron eyed the scars on Amelia’s neck, “Outside of the argument, did he hurt you physically?” 

Ashamed, she looked away, her hand covering the marks Alcyon left. It would do her no good to try to hide it from Osteron, he could easily see through her lies. 

“Yes.” She reluctantly confirmed his observation, her voice small and quiet. 

Alcyon, you fool. Osteron cursed under his breath. It would explain why their bond was so severely frayed and how he deteriorated to his current state so rapidly. Alcyon was lucky that they had intervened as quickly as they did. Even more so that Amelia was willing to return after whatever harm he did to her. Though to be honest, he didn’t know why. Osteron supposed that strong emotions make baselines make strange decisions, but this will work to his advantage. There weren’t many Astartes around, so collaboratively, the decision was made to preserve as many of their fellow space marines as they could or those worth keeping alive, be they chaos or loyalist. 

“There are not many of us here on Ancient Terra and it would be ideal if we could save as many of our brothers as we could.” he explained to Amelia, “I would ask that you assist in Alcyon’s recovery as proximity to their bonded humans helps the Astartes recover at a faster rate in cases like this. if we can pull him out of this at all.”

Without giving time for her to answer, Osteron pulled up a nearby chair and gestured for Amelia to sit, “You need to spend the next two hours here with him so we can monitor his vitals for change. You don’t have to interact with him if you don’t wish to, I suspect your presence and proximity will be enough. We’ll be monitoring you both. If something happens or you don’t want to stay, Brother Erriox is here to pull you out. Once time is up, come see me and I will take a look at your injuries.” 

“I… I can do it.” Amelia replied nervously as she settled in the chair next to the unconscious Astartes. Satisfied, the apothecary left the couple to their privacy. 

She wasn’t sure what she was more hesitant about, Alcyon potentially waking up while she was there or that Osteron would be seeing the wounds and marks Alcyon left on her. She wasn’t sure how to face Alcyon if he woke up, or if she even wanted to. She wasn’t ready to confront all the things that happened between them. It was tempting to say “no” in all honesty, but guilt kept tugging at her heart to stay. And it was her fault that he ended up like this; it…was the least she could do. 

Plus Alcyon was chained to his bed, Erriox was just outside, and she could leave whenever she wanted to. That… gave her some peace of mind. 

Amelia stewed in her own anxiety, concluding that she would have to face both options eventually. She just hoped that Osteron wouldn't ask too many questions.  

A long while after Osteron left the room, Amelia got up to examine the chaos Iron Warrior for herself. For once, Alcyon looked like he had let his guard down, even though it was forced. His brows were less furrowed, his facial scars and muscles were relaxed. He looked softer, slightly younger, more at ease. She caressed his face, her hand tenderly tracing over the scars around his optics before running her fingers through his cropped grey hair. Amelia brushed over the base of what once was a horn that had grown out of his head like she had done before, feeling the hard texture, wondering what it would have looked like. 

She kissed his brow and then pressed her forehead gently against his, “I’m sorry Alcyon. I didn’t know that being so far away from you would hurt you like this…” she whispered. 

Her eyes roved over the familiar scars on Alcyon’s body. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the slow beating of his two hearts, frowning at the rhythm lacking its usual strength. 

Amelia sat back down, watching the clock and the displays on the machines, noting how his vital signs seemed a little stronger compared to when she first saw him. She waited as time wound down, every now and then getting up to checking on the unconscious Astartes.

Alcyon dreamt that Amelia was there with him. He didn’t know what she said, all he could focus on was her presence: her scent, her gentle touch, her kiss, her murmuring voice. His bonded was still here. It may be in his dreams, but she was still here. She hasn’t left him yet despite it all… their broken bond crooned out to him to reconnect as strands slowly started to grow. The soreness and pain in his body eased the more he dwelled on Amelia’s presence. It felt like it had been so long since he’s been in the presence of his bonded, that even this dream version of her was a comfort to his soul. Alcyon slept on, relaxed and unaware.  

Amelia felt so exhausted by the time she arrived at Alcyon’s room. She was glad that Osteron didn’t ask too many questions outside of the basic when and how, it was already embarrassing enough to show him the injuries that Alcyon left on her body. He checked her wounds, once satisfied, he suggested staying the next several nights at the base before returning home. It made sense, with Alcyon still in such critical condition. The door opened when she punched in the familiar code to Alcyon’s room, thankful that Osteron helped confirm that his code still worked. Amelia wandered in, took a shower, and curled into Alcyon’s bed, quickly falling asleep. 

The next day, Amelia went home after work and packed some clothes and toiletries before returning to the base to stay near Alcyon as Osteron requested. Despite Alcyon's state of unconsciousness, she was glad to see that his vital signs had improved somewhat from the day before. Osteron was right, her proximity might be helping in his recovery. Which was a good thing… but she was still apprehensive of Alcyon waking up while she’s there. 

The Iron Warrior was still unconscious when Amelia arrived. Her hand rested on his forehead. She breathed a sigh of relief; although Alcyon’s body was still cold, the death-like chill she felt yesterday seemed to have dissipated. Amelia tenderly caressed his face, then moved down to his torso, tracing over the familiar scars on Alcyon’s chest. 

She loved him… he was her bonded Astartes still, but it was hard to forget his actions that night. Amelia shuddered. Her heart ached at the uncertainty. Would he hurt her in his anger again, like that night of their argument? She withdrew her hand and sat back down in the chair. 

Darkness surrounded him, but he was aware enough to tell that he was not at the base or anywhere he is familiar with. No. This was just his dream state; yet he could not sense an exit. Alcyon tried to get up, but his whole body felt weak and cold, as if something had been draining the energy from him. But now he could feel the warmth of his bond. It wasn’t strong, but it was there, persisting, and he grabbed onto it like a man drowning. 

The next day when Amelia visited again, Alcyon’s vitals looked to have stabilized, but he had yet to wake up. Amelia sighed, tenderly caressing Alcyon’s face, brushing off non-existent pieces of hair from him. Her hand drifted to his chest. His heartbeat was stronger than before. She wanted Alcyon to heal, to get better and wake up, but at the same time, Amelia hoped that he wouldn’t wake up while she was there. She shook her head and frowned. It was selfish of her to think that, but it’s just… she wasn’t ready to face him and everything that happened between them yet. She gently patted his chest, “I’m sorry, Alcyon.”

The warmth of the bond ebbed and flowed, Sometimes he could feel the warmth acutely, curling around him like a strong vine. Other times, the bond thins, like a vine drying out from the lack of water. In those moments, Alcyon wasn’t sure whether or not to hold it more tightly or loosely. What if it disintegrates if he was too rough with it? He was too rough with Amelia and look where that got him. He hurt her so badly, it felt like there was no coming back from that. Alcyon loosened his grip, but continued to follow it.

Amelia fell into a routine over the next few days: wake up, breakfast, work, spend time with Alcyon, have dinner, go back to Alcyon’s room to shower and sleep. There were minor improvements to the chaos Iron Warrior’s condition; he had yet to wake up, but some improvement, however small, was still progress. Despite the improvements, it still worried Amelia. Part of it was her guilt in being the cause of his condition, the other deeply rooted part was that she still loved him. How long would it take for Alcyon to wake up? Osteron only gave a range from a few days to several weeks which didn’t settle her uneasiness. 

She visited Alcyon again. He was still unconscious. She sighed, stroking his face, caressing old scars. Regret bubbled up in her heart, overriding her fear of him waking up when she was by his side. Amelia supposed that she would cross that bridge when that happened. She pressed her forehead against his, feeling his breath brush against her jaw. “I shouldn’t have said all those things to you. I shouldn’t have left to go so far away.” she whispered mournfully.

Alcyon noticed the bond growing brighter and stronger. He could smell Amelia’s familiar scent.  He knew he was close. His steps grew faster until he broke into a run. He yearned to hold her. 

Amelia. Wait for me.

“I’m so sorry, Alcyon. Please wake up.” She pressed her lips to his and murmured, “I still love you.” 

Unaware that one of his optics had its recording feed turned on the entire time. 

**************************

Alcyon woke up. 

One of his optics was programmed to automatically start recording whatever was happening any time he went to sleep or became unconscious. Though sound wasn’t recorded, visual feed was usually good enough.

Alcyon played the recording. 

He replayed the feed. His hearts nearly stopped. 

Amelia had been there with him. He wasn’t dreaming. Alcyon touched his lips, he could tell from his optic feed that Amelia had kissed him. She returned. His bonded had returned! No wonder he could feel his bond’s warmth once again. Hope sparked within him, but it quickly fizzled out when the Iron Warrior looked around. Where was Amelia now? Why did she not stay?

“Welcome back.” a cheerful deep voice joked over the quiet buzzing in the background.

Alcyon focused on his Death Guard cousin standing beside his bed, “How long was I unconscious?”

Polistes answered, idly letting one of his wasps walk over his fingers, “About a week, give or take several hours…” he paused then added, “You are very lucky that Amelia returned to accompany you. Not many baselines would be willing to do that after what you did.”

“I realize that.” the Iron Warrior mumbled. He winced as he sat up and stretched. His body was strangely weak and stiff from disuse, not to mention his prosthetics were taken away. It’s been a long time since he felt this way. Now more clear-headed, Alcyon was disturbed at how easy it was for an intense bond to incapacitate an Astartes. He knew about it previously, but experiencing bond breakage firsthand brought a heightened awareness of a few things: how much his life was intertwined with the bond, how fragile the bond was and how fragile made him, and how important Amelia was to him…

“Where is Amelia?” 

“She’s at work.” Osteron’s stern voice replied as he entered with a Thousand Son sorcerer.

“Why didn’t she stay?” Alcyon asked while the apothecary checked the readings on the machines connected to him.

Osteron looked at him as if his bout with bond breakage dulled his mind, “Amelia is still afraid of you. It’s difficult for baselines to forget that type of violence against them… especially from their bonded.”

Of course, the apothecary wouldn’t let him forget it. The memory of his claw ripping through Amelia’s clothes flashed in his mind… had his claw gone any deeper… Alcyon closed his eye, trying to will that dark thought away. He questioned, “If she was so afraid, why did she return to save me?” 

Mythras the sorcerer, his eyes glowing with activated psyker powers, answered him, “Out of guilt mostly, and perhaps out of love. Emotions can make baselines do strange and hypocritical things.”

Guilt, love? Or rather out of pity?  It was clear from his recorded feed that Amelia still held some degree of affection for him. But what’s the point of bringing him back if only to never see him. Did she not plan to see him again? Only hover within his proximity so to keep this bond and him alive? Did he deserve her love even? Perhaps he deserved this kind of treatment from Amelia since he had gone against the very duty of being her bonded Astartes, his promise of always protecting her to the point of physically hurting her.

Alcyon was so mired in his thoughts of self-hatred and guilt that he nearly missed what Mythras said next. The sorcerer had a satisfied expression on his face after his analysis, “Your bond has recovered to 65% of what it once was. Further recovery will be up to the both of you.”

Osteron reattached his leg prosthetic, warning the chaos warrior, “You are under base arrest until we can be sure that you will not lose your mind nor arbitrarily harm others.”

Alcyon tested his legs; his eyes narrowed upon hearing that, “Then let me see Amelia.” he demanded. 

“That would be Amelia’s decision to make. Don’t forget the harm you did to her.” Osteron sneered, annoyed by Alcyon’s insistence. He checked the chaos warrior’s prosthetics and mobility again then dismissed him, “Behave and maybe you’ll see her. Polistes, accompany Alcyon back to his room.”

***************************

As soon as the door to his room closed behind him, Alcyon froze, alert yet confused. His room smelled like Amelia. His bed smelled like her. Had she been here? Slept here too? Alcyon smelled his bed again to confirm his suspicions. It was Amelia’s floral scent, there was no doubt about it. She had been there. 

Who’s sadistic prank was this? They needed to stop teasing him before he decided to lose the rest of his mental faculties. If Amelia had slept in his room why didn’t she stay? He wouldn’t have minded if she did. 

Alcyon laid in his bed trying and cursed. Her scent was everywhere: on his sheets, his pillow, his blanket. He tried to go to sleep, but his thoughts kept drifting, picturing Amelia sleeping there in his bed, wearing one of his shirts with no pants on, because she for some reason, did not bring her sleeping clothes. His shirt rode up her leg, exposing the expanse of her thigh. Alcyon swallowed the saliva that built up in his mouth. He could still remember the softness of her skin under his hand…

Alcyon’s hand drifted down to palm himself. He wondered if Amelia would pleasure herself on his bed while waiting for his return? Her arousal staining his blanket? His pillow? A deep growl left his chest as he held the pillow to his face and inhaled deeply.  

Saliva gathered in his mouth. His cock twitched as his thumb rubbed over the sensitive tip. Vivid imagery played in his mind of Amelia naked, fondling herself, riding the edge of his pillow with his name falling from her lips in quiet gasps while she chased her orgasm. Her gasps turned into moans as she reached completion, her scent and arousal spilling and absorbing into the fabric on which his head laid. The chaos Iron Warrior groaned deeply and bit into his pillow, sucking on the fabric, tasting the fragments of Amelia’s scent left there. 

His abdominal muscles tightened and relaxed as Alcyon stroked and tugged on his cock. Precum leaked all over his hand, making his actions smoother. It’s been too long. Gods, he missed Amelia so much. His need for her was overwhelming. Alcyon let out a long breath and licked the drool from the corner of his lips, imagining her hand, her mouth caressing his cock as he stroked himself. 

The scene switched in his delirious mind; Amelia was riding him, the soft expanse of her body moving against his scarred torso, Alcyon’s hand squeezing the soft globe of her ass while he bucked into her from underneath. He adjusts his grip on his cock, remembering how her cunt squeezed around him each time he thrust into her. A part of him felt disappointed. It’s not the same. His hand could never replicate the same feeling as her tight, wet heat. 

“Alcyon! Please… I need you… Alcyon!” He heard her gasp as she rode him. 

“Amelia!” He grunted as he thrust through his fist. 

Amelia was his bonded. Amelia was his bonded whose body he claimed and left his marks on. Amelia was his bonded mate who he fucked and claimed over and over again. Amelia was his bond-mate who he memorized the taste and scent of and mapped out her body with his hand and tongue. Amelia was his mate who he vowed to keep and protect. Amelia was his bond-mate who had returned to him; to save him from the torment of their bond that he so carelessly broke. Amelia... Amelia… Amelia... Amelia…

Alcyon moaned her name as his hand gripped tightly,  his hips thrusting up, imagining himself spearing deep into her velvet heat; fully sheathed, his pelvis pressed against hers, spilling his seed deep inside. Hot milky cum splattered all over his hand and torso as he came. The Iron Warrior groaned, his hips falling back onto his bed, his spend quickly cooling. With his mind now clear, disappointment and yearning quickly took over again as he knew Amelia wasn’t there with him.

He wiped his hand on his chest, making his way to the shower to clean himself off. Hopefully he could wash away these lustful thoughts of Amelia from his mind so he can focus on sleep again. 

He needed his mate, his bonded, the other half to his soul.

Amelia, where are you?

[kittwix]

can you pls write hcs about the joestars s/o being a gyaru/o? like letting the reader draw eyeliner on them and stuff like that <3

Joestars with a Gyaru! Reader

Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna, Jolyne Cujoh, Johnny Joestar, Gappy Joestar, Jodio Joestar x Gender Neutral! Reader

word count:

tags: fluff content, for the sake of fun and whimsy.. lets pretend that Jonathan and Joseph's time period are out the window considering gyaru originated in the 70s (thanks google), established relationship for all, stand user! reader hehe

Jonathan Joestar

Your colorful clothes and carefree personality really stood you out from the others. He couldn't help but let his eyes linger on to you far longer than necessary, even after the two of you had made it official and started going steady. He wasn't one to really judge people on what they look like and their background. Regardless, he was still very sweet and supportive of your attire.

"So... what do you think? Pretty cool, right?" You smiled, a brush in hand as you looked over your shoulder at the sight of your boyfriend looming over with his arms behind his back.

"I think you look rather ravishing, my dear." He complimented, his blue eyes softening at your gaze and the corners of his lips curved to match the equal smile you had.

"Cool it, romeo.. now you're embarrassing me here." You pouted playfully, turning to look back at your reflection as you tweaked your makeup some more.

"My apologies... I can't help but admit how desireable you are." He continued, his own cheeks flushing as he takes a step forward. "Now that you're done.. I take it that we will be going out soon for our date?"

Joseph Joestar

Okay on one hand he loves it but then on the other he thinks you're kinda weird, but in a good way. He's not accustomed to Japanese fashion styles like that, it takes him a while to kinda understand what you're aiming at here and just used to how you're dressed. However, he knows a thing or two with slapping on makeup on his face (*tequila joseph hint hint*)

"Getting yourself all pretty for me, babe?" You could hear him smiling behind his words as he towered over your seated position with your back facing him. You were adjusting the makeup around your eyes, glancing between your reflection in the mirror and then at your makeup bag.

"I'm looking good for myself, not everything is about you, Jojo." You sneered, applying lipstick before letting it drop back in your makeup bag. Looking back at him, a growing smirk appeared on your face as an idea popped into your head. "Speaking of which, why don't you let me touch up on your face really quickly?"

Joseph flinched a little at this as he stared hard at the eyeliner pencil in your hand as you pointed it at him. "Get that away from me!" He teased. "And what's wrong with how I already look? Aren't you just dying to kiss my handsome face? My steel muscles? I'm the full package, baby!"

"Oh, be quiet!" You hissed at him, though it was hard to contain your own giggles after hearing him howl with laughter as he clenched on to his belly.

Jotaro Kujo

Honestly he kinda doesn't care about how you dress, though he does find it to be a bit much. Still, you were bold and thats what he liked about you and if it expresses physically into your attire then it wouldnt bother him at all. But sometimes, he hates the attention that it brings and especially for any punks that try to mess with you.

"Get lost." He spat, his baritone voice startling both you and the dude who was mocking you from afar.

"O-or what? Gonna beat me up?? Y'know that's like a crime right? Don't think I can't report you and your freak of a nature slut." The guy continued, but it was obvious that he was intimidated by him. Those were the wrong choice of words and in a blink of an eye, the guy was bruised up and slammed into the nearest wall.

"Holy shit..!" Your eyes widened as he leaned back a bit in shock, like a cat with its fur standing up. "Wasn't that a bit much?" You asked, still you couldn't help but take your phone out with a charm dangling at the end as you took a quick photo of this.

"That asshole was running his damn mouth for too long." Jotaro reiterated, turning his back to face you. "Besides.. how fucking stupid do you think I am for letting him bad mouth you like that.."

You nearly choked on your own spit at his words. It meant a lot coming from him and honestly, you'd be lying if you said it didnt make you wanna giggle and kick your feet.

"Aww.. going soft on me now, Kujo?" You teased and he simply sighed and muttered 'Good Grief'.

Josuke Higashikata

He loves it so much and he will 100% let you do some of the makeup on him as well. He's the type of guy that would want to try and get into the kind of things you're into and that includes dressing up a bit. Might've convinced him to dress up next time you see him at school and when he shows up, it's definitely a shock for everyone.

"Josuke..?" Koichi was the first to call out to him in question, his eyes were wide and he was a bit speechless. Yukako stood by him as well, though she glanced between you and Josuke before quickly connecting the dots here.

On the other hand, Okuyasu burst into a fit of laughter as he pointed at his best friend. "What the fuck are you wearing?! You look stupid!" He roared as he clenched on to his belly.

Josuke stood there with a blush on his face as his friends continue to tease and question him about his appearance. "Say whatever you want, but I wanted to try something new." He scoffed at this before making eye contact with you in which you could only smirk back at him. "I think you look really cute!" You chimed in, hooking your arms around his and walked to his side. Despite the playful comments his friends were giving him, he still managed to smile knowing that he made you happy.

Giorno Giovanna

It's the first thing he notices and he'd be lying if he said you weren't eye candy. He doesn't hold much opinions to what you look like per say, but you've discovered part of him that's got an eye for fashion whether it's intentional or not.

"Long and colorful nails suit your eyes, Cara." He would say, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips to graze your skin. "I think you should go with purple next time instead of blue."

"Eh..? You think so?" You were a bit stunned to be getting suggestions from him, he was the last person you'd expect to really care. "Geez, Giorno... didn't think you'd pay that much attention."

"Of course I would." He answered back, still holding on to your hands gently. "Who do you take me for?" He continued to tease. You felt like your head was about to melt and explode from how hot it was getting. Hearing him talk so sweetly with that voice of his made your heart jump.

"So.. you like it?" You asked.

"I like you. Whatever you wear will only highlight what I already adore." And that was the nail on the coffin and now you have melted under his hands. He knew exactly what he was doing and goddammit was it working.

Jolyne Cujoh

She loves it. Thinks you're really cool and honestly she wouldn't mind trying it herself to match with you. Would let you paint her nails, do some light makeup and then take pictures together.

She did a double take when she saw you walking in with your full attire. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in shock. She didn't expect to see you dress down like that but she digs it.

"Am I seeing things? You look so freakin' cool..!" She gushed, already admiring down to your nails and your hair and even the makeup.

"Now I feel like I look normal in comparison to you." She chuckled sheepishly but you placed your hands on her shoulders and gave her a few pats.

"Now, now, Jolyne! Tell ya what, you come shoppin' with me tomorrow and I'll get you all dolled up like me!" You chirped happily in which she felt her own cheeks flush at this as she averted her gaze.

"Alright, fine... at least I get to spend some time with you." She muttered bashfully.

Johnny Joestar

Thinks that it's a bit much, though he admires your bold decisions to dress in that way. Honestly, if you catch him staring at you funny, he might even find it to be weirdly hot and he'll be bashful when you point it out to him.

He blinked for a moment, staring at your clothes. You caught the way he kept staring without saying anything so you turned your head to face him and placed your hands on your hips with a scoffed expression.

"You're staring.." You narrowed your eyes at him as you pouted.

"Did a glitter bomb go off on you..? You look like a walking disco ball." He blurted out.

"You don't like it?" You questioned as you took another look at yourself in the reflection of your outfit but he was quick to correct himself given at how upset you had gotten.

"N-no..! I didn't mean it like that. I actually kinda like it." He muttered, though he was avoiding eye contact with you which only made you smirk when you pointed it out. "Don't get any ideas..."

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

A bit confused by your appearance but he seems really interested regardless. Thinks its easier to find or spot you in case he gets lost or when you're in a big crowd.

"Eh..? Is that you?" You hear him ask as he tilts his head to the side a bit. He likes from just how bouncy your hair is and how colorful your nails are. "What's with the look?"

"What's the matter? Not liking it? I wanted to go all out today." You explained, fetching a mirror in your bag to take a look at your reflection.

"Not bad. Just... cute." He stared some more as you approached him slowly with your hands behind your back and an innocent smile on your face. He looked at you curiously. "What?"

"You're still staring.." You pointed out in which he blinked in response before scratching the back of his neck.

"Is that a bad thing? You're so cute, it's hard to look away when you're so loud." He admitted with a little smile in which you giggled back in response ans pressed a little kiss to his cheek.

Jodio Joestar

He's into it, draws the attention and with attentiom equals dollar signs. At least thats the logic he tells himself. He's also just pretty chill with most things you do and that includes whatever you wear, no matter how eccentric or boring. Plus when he gets the money, he'd wanna spoil you.

Jodio's lounging in a beachside cafe in O'ahu, leaning back in his chair as he sipped his cool beaverage and enjoyed the sun shining down on his skin.

"Joooodiooo..!" You called out to him and ran to where he was seated as you wrapped your arms behind his shoulders. "You promised that you'd come hang out with me when you're done with your 'business deal'! I see you relaxing here, you're not so slick!"

"It wasn't a business deal." Jodio answered, leaning in to your touch as he kept his eyes closed as he sunbathed. "But, now that you're here.." He trails off, taking one of your hands in his own before turning his chin up to face you. "Let's hang out now."

"Yeah right... and then you'll ditch me again for some quick cash!" You pouted.

"Profit is profit and think about it," He started as he pats the spot next to him and you quietly sat right by him. "With that extra cash, maybe I'll slide you a few benjamins to treat yourself to something nice. Maybe something for that bouncy hair you got."

"Now that's just wishful thinking.. if only we were rich." You frowned playfully and he laughed at this before wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"Just you wait, babe."

fin

masterlist <3

[nutsack90]

tgck tarot cards :3

i might make more mha tarot cards idk... i kinda sacrificed quality for the sake of them matching

[murderandcoffee]

*buddy aurinko voice* found family? no, darling, this is a made family. I superglued these chucklefucks together kicking and screaming.

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Junicrane/Starstruck Ramble

I will not be brief, all under the cut

To clear some things right off the bat:

No corpse, no proof with Juniper. Obligatory this is set in a canon where he's alive and adjacent to the agency in some way.

Reggie & Juniper are just gay to me, but I don't mind any interpretation of their sexuality

The games are set in 1967/68 to me (based on a couple bits in game) which is before it was legal to be gay in America at least (1971), which is relevant to how I interpret canon as being somewhat grounded in reality, despite unrealistic elements.

This is just an insane amount of headcanons/elements of and AU all culminated into one post. I will talk about some headcanons like they're just facts because they are established in my head, and it saves me over explaining literally everything, however I will explain some parts a little bit for clarity.

Alright. Actual beginning of the ramble:

Juniper is a character to me who had gotten so lost in his job as an actor and a social presence that in the end his whole life revolved around that 'role'. Because of this, by the time he's put into the situation where he's around the Agency, he basically knows nothing about himself, though he doesn't realise at first. Furthermore, what little identity he had has changed in so many ways. He's no longer a beloved famous actor in the prominence of public light, he's legally dead and he tarnished his career just before he was supposed to die, with the bonus of that making him lose the majority of his estate. From that, he also has horrific facial scarring from the electrical burns from literally having his face fried. I believe a friend of mine made a post about this a while ago (I also think they were the first to think it up also), but, to me, Juniper has a permanent trimmer in his right arm (aka his dominant hand) from the electrical current and it is messing with his nervous system.

All in all, he's not doing great, but he's too proud to admit that he's not doing great, because if anything, what's left of his ego is all he has as a defense since he's deep in unfamiliar water.

Before ending up around the agency (I have multiple interpretations of this, so I'm just going to bring it up generally), he'd never actually seen Reggie, and his only impression of him is a single voicemail, which was his only reference he had to later impersonate him. Juniper probably has very little feelings other than the ones he projects onto him because of Phoenix and that, at the very least, he's physically attracted to Reggie to some degree (that's like the beginning of how everything else would tumble into place in this sort of interpretation at least).

And on Crane's side? His feelings towards Juniper are probably very intense and muddled. On the one hand, he adores musical theatre, and that's his now ex-favourite actor. The thought of just casually being around him blows the bit of fanboy in him away at first because THAT'S the GUY, plus the inklings of a celebrity crush which still poke at him. And then there's the rational side of him, which knows Juniper has committed absolute atrocities on the side of Zoraxis, and hates him for that. Then there's how much Juniper comes off as an asshole at first because he refuses to cooperate with anything the Agency tried to put in place. He finds Juniper endlessly frustrating, and yet he's stuck working with him since, afterall, he's the one who knows the Agency's history with Juniper the best. I imagine him acting a lot like how he does IEYTD 1 around Juniper.

At this point, I'm just describing the pitch for a romcom.

I think the start of their relationship with one another largely started with Juniper trying to wind Crane up. It was a way of getting his attention, and I don't think Juniper knows why he's so dead set on that at first, because I don't think he realises he has a crush on 'this grump' at first. (I think that's actually the fun part about these two, because it's almost like a role reversal of the celebrity crush dynamic. This ex-big name actor has a TERRIBLE crush on an average joe and it is KILLING HIM.) But of course the Agency keeps them together because Juniper is at least conversing with Crane, so it's a start.

Through one way or another, they actually get talking casually, at least mildly at first. It takes Juniper a long time to fully deconstruct the wall he's built, and the thing is, Crane isn't the one trying to deconstruct it, at least at first, because yeah, Juniper realises if he wants Reggie to actually like him in any way, he can't keep winding him up. So they talk. Small talk at first, something rhythmic and almost easy to keep to a script. And over time that turns into actual conversations. Genuine ones in which Reggie rips out the occasional one of his jokes which Juniper is endlessly endeared about. The way he smiles just before he makes them, like he wants to chuckle at what he's about to say before he says it. That's probably when Juniper realised that he does have some vague crush on him, and that it wasn't going away.

This is what kickstarts John I can't-buy-you-things-to-impress-you-so-acts-of-service-it-is Juniper to do little things for him. It mostly starts off as him trying to make Reggie his tea how he likes it. However, the nerve damage in his arm makes that hard, as the weight of the kettle and trying to pour is hard all of a sudden. And he refuses to accept that, so he tries for a very long while. Long enough that Crane would go to investigate what was going on. And when he does see Juniper leaning over a cup with the kettle as he uneasily tries to pour it, and when Crane asks Juniper responds so matter-of-fact that his intention is nothing but genuine. And it catches Reggie off guard because Juniper hadn't done anything like that up to that point, and his very apparent vulnerability is so clearly on show.

It shifts something between them.

From that point on, conversations are longer, more familiar. Both of their attitudes soften, and Reggie makes more jokes. Juniper learns how to better use his left hand while strengthening his right back to a point where it could be used again. Slowly, they're both spending time with one another not because they have to, but just because they can. Little bits at first, not too far outside what they already were doing, but those little bits turned into long bits to a point where the other person's company was genuinely desirable.

As time passes, Juniper probably realises that he doesn't genuinely know much about himself or what hobbies he's into, because he never really had the time when he got big, and his home life in his youth wasn't bad, but it wasn't picturesque. I think Reggie would pick up on it, and absolutely try to introduce him to some things he's into. Some things stick, other things don't (corn husking very much stays Reggie's passion, and John will go with him sometimes because it's him, but it's not something he strongly cares for). Crane introduces him to a lot of music, and it's something that becomes a staple between them, with tracks they listen to more than others (tragically, I know relatively little about 60s music so I couldn't really say what). Occasionally they dance, never anything intense, think slow dancing, but the closeness is nice.

Through all of it, Juniper is battling the worst crush of his life, and he can't stand it, because I think he struggles to read people since he doesn't have anything like a script or a director to refer back to, so he has no idea if Reggie likes him back or if he's just desperate for that to be true. I think because of that any sort of confession between them would be incredibly raw, not only because of the time they live in making it hard for them to be truthful about how they love, but because it's a complete show of Juniper who's worked to be this better person. I don't exactly know how that would go, mainly because I don't have one set version of their dynamic, this post is just a generalisation of main consistent points.

Reggie does like him back, because he's gotten used to Juniper being just this guy, not a figure in the public eye, not a Zoraxis lackey, and not any sort of Agency operative (despite being under their care to some degree). He's someone he genuinely cares for, because they've given one another the time of day to learn one another, and I think because Reggie was a field agent, he was a lot better at reading Juniper than Juniper was at reading him. Eventually Juniper's company becomes something he could see around him for the rest of his life, and I think he accepts that he likes Juniper a lot more gracefully.

I think any affection directed at Juniper would at first be met with him feeling a little muddled. Reggie was a very physically affectionate person when he could be, and sure the initial flirting with one another came with the occasional little touches, but everything now was so deeply intentional. I also don't think Juniper would almost ever get over the novelty of being able to kiss him, or many other gestures, because it made the fact that they were together so very real, and it was great. I do think it comes easier to Reggie, and it's a big way of showing how much he cares, so it's important for Juniper to try and show it back because he knows how much it means to the other.

I like the idea of them eventually living with one another, too. I think Juniper would have always had a quiet little daydream of sorts where he does just live a domestic quiet life, and he can with Reggie (well, as close as they can get between the Agency and Zoraxis always being at odds), and he loves that, and he loves him, and it's immense.

I think they cook for one another a lot, it helps Juniper work on his dexterity in a controlled environment, which means a lot because it's a huge point of insecurity (that and his scars). He does improve, and Crane is proud of that and shows it and it's great. I also think they'd probably cook together too, because they can deal with being in the kitchen together and they work well with one another. It's probably a good way for them to unwind because over time they can do it in relative silence.

As I said before, I also think music is a staple in their household, and that Reggie listens to things on vinyl almost all of the time because he likes the background noise. Sometimes Juniper will catch him chuntering along to the music which he finds endlessly endearing. I wouldn't put it past his dramatic ass to also join in to fluster Reggie, but I also don't think Reggie would mind that terribly because Juniper has listened to the music enough to know the lyrics, and that's huge to him.

I don't think they are without rough patches, no relationship is, but I think the good part about them is that they're willing to talk about it (... eventually). They're used to long conversations, and while they're often less fun conversations, they're needed and they know that, and it works out.

Alright. I think I'm done for now. I haven't mentioned everything, but this definitely got the worst of it out of my system. If you ever want to hear any specific thoughts my ask box is open but other than that, behold my general dynamic for these two which has been festering in my head for years. I think they're great

[sentimentalslut]

people talk about how the justice system is broken in general (it is) but nobody talks about how stupid the innane bureaucracy component is

[whysamwhy123]

Re-watching the one time Ricky and Christian teamed and lamenting about What Could Have Been.

[enterstellars]

and with that i do believe that my run with interstellar in imax has come to an end.

[genekies]

screaming, tearing my hair out, sobbing face down on my bed

[starpens]

CRASH COURSE ﾉ xia caleb x female reader ៹ explicit content, unprotected sex, virginity loss, mentions of cheating (none actually happens), pet names (pipsqueak (sorry but i have to be accurate) gege, good girl), instructional sex, blowjobs, creampie, idk what this is i wrote it in 5 seconds i just needed an excuse to write caleb, not proofread :( ˓˓ WORD COUNT ᨀ 4.9k !

asking the boy you’ve known nearly your entire life to teach you how to have sex isn’t weird, right...? right?

caleb has taught you a lot of things over the years.

he taught you how to drive a car in the shopping mall’s parking lot, how to cheat at card games, how to avoid burning the house down by letting him cook for you instead, how to sneak underneath the turnstiles on the subway to avoid fees.

he’s reliable and sturdy and a little reckless, but also patient and nonjudgmental— creating the idea in your idea that he’s kind of all-knowing, that whenever you don’t know something caleb does, that whenever you need help, you turn to no one else but him. which is precisely why you’re standing outside the door of his bedroom right now, hand lifted to knock on it.

because surely, asking caleb to teach you how to give a blowjob falls somewhere underneath that category too, right?

it’s one of those rare moments when the two of you are off work at the same time. caleb, on annual leave for the next two weeks and you, taking out a handful of unused vacation days to spend time with your favorite person in the world. it’s like old times again, when you can simply walk down the hall and hear his laugh drifting from underneath the door as he plays some stupid video game with college buddies.

thinking of the old days is exactly why you’re hesitating at the door. there’s too much shared history between the two of you, too much to lose if this goes badly, if you’ve been reading him wrong all along and he doesn’t want the same thing. there’s no way you can march in there and ask the boy you were raised with teach you how to—

“door’s open, pipsqueak,” caleb calls, somehow knowing you’re there because of course he does. you used to complain that he must’ve secretly implanted a tracker in your arm because he always knows your whereabouts, which made games like hide and seek with him impossible.

knowing it’s too late to play it off, you walk inside his room, greeted by his devastatingly gorgeous grin. “hey, you. lemme guess— the fridge is empty? no? lightbulb in your room need changing again? huh… or did you just miss me?”

“uh,” you mumble, shifting your toes in the soft carpet of the rug in the middle of his room. “not exactly. i was just wondering if you had time to talk and— … you’re not wearing a shirt.”

you realize how dumb you sound as you point it out, it’s just that your brain short-circuits, turning into a syrupy mess at the sight of caleb without a shirt on, his dog tags resting against bare skin. you’ve seen him like this before, of course— but not since he up and left, gallivanting off into the world to become a hotshot military pilot.

he’s always been nice to look at when you think he isn’t paying attention, but god he’s pretty. your eyes blink almost in disbelief as you take in his broad, muscular form that did not exist while he was a cadet in basic training. your gaze can’t help but snag on the ripple of his abs, or the thatch of brown hair trailing from his navel to disappear beneath his gray sweats. he swivels in his stupid gaming chair, smiling at you with his stupid face—

“uh, yeah?” caleb laughs, forehead creasing in confusion like you shouldn’t be surprised and really, you shouldn’t. caleb is like a furnace, blood running hot even in the middle of winter. “gran’s got the heat turned up to max again. it’s like she wants to kill me.”

“yeah, right,” you shake your head, laughing skittishly. “sorry. i’ve got a fan you can borrow, if you want.”

“thanks,” he says, magenta eyes dragging over your form suspiciously, taking in the way you’re standing in the middle of his room fidgeting like a leaf in the wind, hands white-knuckling the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing, knees knocking together all nervous and cute. he frowns, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to give you his full attention in that heart-stuttering way he often does.

“what’s with you? not that i’m not glad to see you, but… did something happen? did someone do something to you?”

“no, no— nothing like that,” you hurry to reassure, voice cracking on the last word as your cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment, trying to find the words to say what you need to without crashing and burning. swallowing around a lump in your throat, you glance at the paused screen of caleb’s game before blurting out—

“can you teach me how to give a blowjob?”

caleb immediately chokes.

a lesson on what not to do.

the overclocked fans on caleb’s gaming rig whirs in a soft hum, the neon lights in his room flickering crimson streaks over his handsome face in the dark. he wonders if it’s post traumatic stress or prolonged exposure to cosmic radiation in the sky forcing him to hallucinate. obviously, he’s got too many marbles in one jar and not enough in the other because there is no way he’s heard you correctly.

slowly, he removes his headset. “come again?”

“i’m awful at it, ge,” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in exasperation. in fact, you don’t know if you’re awful at it or not because you’ve never tried. you’ve been too busy waiting on the man in front of you to stop torturing you both, but caleb doesn’t need to know that. “you see, i’m dating this guy, right? and we’ve been hitting it off well. i can tell he wants to take it to the next level, but i’ve never… and you— you’re good at everything, so i just thought…”

“thought i would give you lessons,” he finishes for you, his voice deepening to a rougher edge that makes you shiver. “so you can suck your boyfriend better. do i have it right?”

“y-yeah…”

“since when do you even have a boyfriend? you didn’t tell me anything,” he says, doing nothing to mask the disappointment in his voice.

“uh, we’ve… been seeing each other for a couple of weeks?” you fumble, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. “i didn’t want to say anything yet. in case it didn’t work out.”

“so you want to learn how to suck dick for a guy you’ve known for a couple of weeks?” he counters, a muscle in his jaw twitching. he’s got no right to feel jealousy, not when he’s wasted so much time attempting to be one thing in your life when you clearly wanted something else. he’s got no right, but the thought of you on your knees for someone else, someone that isn’t him, makes his blood boil enough that he already knows what his answer will be.

however, you’re already backing up towards the door, about to make a quick retreat. your plan was horrible, shame burning your skin like a brand. “what am i saying? oh my god, you’re right it’s stupid and wrong and gross. can we please just forget i even came in here—”

he lets you ramble for an excruciatingly long time, then he pushes out of his gaming chair and grins down at you like you just asked him to make a quick run to the convenience store. he stretches his arms above his head. “let’s do it.”

“w-what?”

you didn’t expect to get this far, honestly. you expected caleb to laugh at you, ruffle your hair, and call you ridiculous. but instead, he’s already striding to his door, thumb flicking the lock with a decisive click. when he turns, his expression makes your breath hitch— those unusual purple eyes molten, staring straight through you.

“first thing’s first, we need to lay down some ground rules, soldier,” caleb tells you playfully, stepping closer until your breasts brush against his midsection. his hand lifts, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “if you need to back out at any moment, you say so. no guy’s pleasure is worth your discomfort. and if i hear his name, whatever it is…” he pauses, eyes narrowing. “this stops. understood?”

you nod eagerly, fighting your smile as his scent envelopes you. he smells like spearmint gum, your shampoo that he’s been stealing since the two of you have been back at the house, and a hint of sweat from the stifling air in the room.

“use your words, pipsqueak.”

“y-yeah, i get it.”

his smirk is all teeth. “good girl.”

caleb guides you over to his bed, sitting down on the edge. his big hands reach for you, circling your hips and pulling you towards him until you’re standing in between his spread thighs.

“alright, my little student,” he jokes. “you wanna get him all riled up before the main event so start with something small like… a kiss,” he murmurs, eyes lifting to glance at your mouth as his finger traces the hinge of your jaw. “you do know how to kiss, don’t you?”

“of course i know how to kiss,” you grumble.

caleb nods and then curls his hand around the nape of your neck, pulling you down to his level. you lean with the pressure, slotting your hands in the junction between his neck and shoulder, sliding them up until you cup the underside of his jaw. then, you’re kissing him— kissing caleb, the boy who used to patch up your scraped knees with cute band-aids, who let you crawl into his bed after nightmares, who pretends he hasn’t thought about kissing you, about making you his, for years.

the kiss is messy, desperate and hungry, decades of pent up feelings behind it. a string of saliva keeps your mouths linked together whenever you pull back for air and when caleb’s tongue swipes across your bottom lip, you whimper and part your lips to let him in, body melting against his front until your weight’s toppling him back onto his elbows, hitching your leg over his waist to crawl on top of him.

his grip on your waist tightens, gently pushing you to stand once more. “this is feeling less like a lesson, and more like you just wanting to do this with me,” he teases, making heat flare across your cheeks.

caleb guides your hand to the waistband of his sweatpants, the heat radiating through the fabric searing your palm. breath hitching, you begin to sink to the floor in front of him but his hand shoots out to stop your descent with a breathy laugh. “no no no, c’mere. you’re gonna hurt your knees down there.”

backing up, he moves until he’s lounging against the headboard, impossibly long legs stretched out on either side of your sweet figure.

“still wanna do this?” he asks, lifting a brow. when you nod, he continues to speak, voice gravelly, “take it out then.”

your fingers fumble with the drawstring a bit, struggling to undo the military knot caleb’s tied there, but you manage eventually. peeling back the waistband of his sweatpants to free his cock.

you should’ve known it would be just as pretty as the rest of him— it’s the biggest one (the only one) you’ve seen in person. he’s thicker than he is long, flushed dusky pink with veins that make your cunt clench with the desperate need to feel them dragging along your inner walls. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, watching you reach for it, nearly sobbing when your hand wraps around him.

“fuck—!” his hips jerk and stutter in shock, hand shoving yours away with a quickness. you frown and bite your lip, retracting your grip as if you’ve been burned.

“oh no,” you rush out, moving back to sit on top of your hands like a scolded kindergartener. “did i do something bad? did i hurt you, cal?”

caleb’s chest heaves, breath punching out of his lungs rapidly, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to slow the speed of his heart down. he’s dreamt about you touching him like this for ages, and the image of your dainty hand nervously wrapping around his cock will be seared into his brain for the rest of his life. you crawl back towards him slowly, seriously worried. “caleb?”

“i’m fine, pip,” he sucks in another breath, then opens his eyes to look at you. “didn’t mean to scare you. you didn’t do anything bad, you just surprised me. go ahead, touch me again.”

“if you’re sure,” you mumble, then hesitantly circle your fingers around caleb’s shaft again. he’s ready for it this time, hot against your palm when you give him an experimental squeeze, making caleb hiss through clenched teeth. “how’s that?”

“a bit tighter,” he instructs, palm closing over yours to adjust your grip. you squeeze him tight, and the hitch of his breath makes you squirm, stickiness gathering between your thighs at the sound. “don’t just squeeze, guys like it when you stroke. base to tip— no, don’t yank it like a fucking joystick, pip. god.”

his protest makes you burst out in giggles before caleb is shushing you with a severe look, his purple eyes narrowed. sucking your plump lower lip in between your teeth to keep from smiling, you nod at him with an exaggeratedly focused look.

“wet your palm,” he tells you, rolling his eyes at your wrinkled nose. “getting a handjob from a dry hand hurts, it’s like sandpaper.”

“are you saying i have dry hands, caleb? i moisturize daily, unlike you,” you whine out, but you listen to him anyway— you’re a good student, after all, and you don’t want to do anything that’ll make caleb want to stop. you lick your palm a few times, eyes on caleb the entire time.

the next time you touch him is with a spit-slicked grip, dragging your hand up and down his cock in an inexperienced, sloppy rub that should feel uncomfortable, but caleb eats it up— hips jerking involuntarily, pearls of watery precum already beginning to leak from the slit of his cock. your gaze is transfixed on it, a little greedy too, watching it stain your knuckles with each stroke.

it’s that same greediness that makes you lean down and brush your lips against the head of his cock, cherry tongue lolling out to tentatively taste the salt-bitter precum beading there. caleb’s hips immediately kick upward in a desperate twitch, but he forces them still, knuckles ashen where they reach down to grip the sheets.

“easy,” he rasps, voice fraying at the edges. his thumb strokes your cheek briefly. “just the tip first, okay? don’t go trying to swallow me down or anything.”

you do what he’s taught you so far; flatten your tongue, swirl it around the head— like that, fuck— press it hard against the thick, sensitive vein running along caleb’s underside, then repeat. every time, you’re rewarded with caleb brushing your hair back, murmuring soft praises, or your personal favorite— his deep, almost nasal groan, the hard planes of his abdomen flexing underneath the heady heat of your tongue.

it’s intoxicating, watching him fall apart like this— exactly what you wanted when you walked into his room. you want to pass his class with honors, please him even more, so you drop your mouth open a little more and suck him in deeper.

too deep.

the thick ridge of his head nudges against your uvula, tears springing to your eyes almost immediately. little startled chokes cough from your throat as you pull off caleb’s cock, bands of saliva stringing from his tip to your mouth in a way that should be gross, but you don’t care one bit, too busy trying to catch your breath.

“shh, shh— breathe,” caleb soothes, eyes darkening with something perilously close to reverence and pride. “through your nose, slowly. you can’t force it, that’s why you keep choking. when you’re ready, try again.”

you let caleb thumb away your tears like he’s done countless times before and when you’re ready, when you’ve had enough air to breathe, you let him guide you back onto his damp cock. eager, swollen lips bringing him in against your cheeks in a hot, branding suction that twists his insides up.

he’s supposed to be teaching you, showing you the ropes so you can please your stupid boyfriend, but you barely even need it— god, you’re so good at this without even trying. how can he focus on teaching when he’s got all of his focus pointed towards trying not to shoot his load down the back of your throat like some inconsiderate asshole?

he can barely look down at you because every time he does, your teary eyes glance up at him through thick lashes with an expression that begs for praise. he knows if you didn’t have a mouth stuffed full of his cock, you’d be asking him am i doing it right, ge?

his thighs tremble, eyes lidded as you finally find a steady pace— mouth bobbing up and down, spit bubbling at the base of his cock where you’re starting to make a mess on him.

and when your hands dip down into his sweatpants, cupping his balls in your soft hand, caleb’s vision whites out, his climax rushing to the front at a rapid pace. before he can cum, though, he takes two fingers and pushes at your forehead, hauling you off his cock with a wet slurp. his chest heaves, dripping beads of sweat that glow in the haze of the neon lighting in his room.

he looks wrecked, and you fight your triumphant smile, schooling it into something unsure and pliant, batting your eyelashes. “did i… did i do it wrong?”

“fuck, no,” his chuckle is hoarse and ruined, calloused thumbs swiping spit from your chin as he gazes up at you meaningfully with those hooded eyes. “just don’t wanna cum down your throat.”

“o-oh.”

the implication makes arousal bubble low in your belly, thighs squeezing together in need. caleb tracks the movement, nostrils flaring as he grins knowingly. “yeah, you don’t want that either, do you, pipsqueak?”

for a while, the two of you just stare at each other in disbelief. you don’t know how to tell caleb that you’d take him in any form he’s offering himself in, pining after him long enough that it’s painful. nothing you ever did got his attention, not in the way you truly wanted. he’s protective and possessive in all the right ways, but he’d never make the first move.

he’ll never come out and admit that he wants to spread you out on his bed and fuck you dumb, mark you as his so nobody else can have you. it took you coming to him to even get this far, so you might as well take matters into your own hands once more.

“teach me the rest, ge?”

the rest.

caleb releases a pained groan at your words and you think he’s going to refuse you, but then he’s flipping your positions, pushing you down onto the mattress with ease. he makes quick work of his sweatpants, shoving them down the rest of the way. then, he wrestles your panties off your hips and tosses them somewhere across the room.

“look at you,” he whispers, pushing your shirt up— his cock leaking a bead of precum at the sight of your pretty tits. he reaches forward, toying with your puffy nipples, grinning at the sound of your soft whimper.

“c-caleb.”

“you drive me fuckin’ crazy, you get that?” the confession comes out sounding suspiciously like a whine. he gazes down at you like you’re water and he’s a man lost deep in the desert, dying of thirst. “you’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. look at these cute tits, just begging for me to touch them. and—”

his big hands sink into the fleshy part of your upper thighs, opening them to get his first exclusive look at your pussy. his thumb parts your folds, spreading one side apart to watch the way your entrance twitches. caleb dips one finger into your cunt and could fucking cry at how warm and tight you feel. “fuck, you’re so wet. is this all ’cause of me?”

“d-don’t look at it so shamelessly, you pervert,” you scold him, squirming back and forth in his hold as you try to snap your thighs shut. “stop teasing me or i’ll hit you. this is embarrassing!”

“why not?” he tilts his head, giving you that boyish grin that makes your heart stop. “after i’m done with you, it’ll be mine anyway. my pretty pussy. my girl.”

you huff and drive your fist into his shoulder before folding your arms over your breasts, lower lip stuck out in an unhappy pout. caleb winces, though mirth still shines amongst the nebulas in his eyes. he leans down to kiss your pout away, chuckling in amusement. “okay, okay, don’t hurt me. i’ll give you what you want.”

and then, he’s wrapping a hand around the base of himself, kissing your clit with the leaking tip of his cock before rubbing it up and down your slit. he coats himself in your wetness before he finally notches against your entrance and slowly pushes.

the pressure makes air stutter out of your chest, blunt and unyielding. he immediately notices your struggle and drops forward on his elbows, caging you safely in his embrace. he kisses the corners of your eyelids, licking away stray tears.

“i hate hurting you like this,” he whispers in your ear, hips drawing back and crawling forward again. you gasp, eyes falling shut, and he shushes you once more. slides a hand down to play with your clit to distract you, which only makes you clench up around him. his jaw is clenched tight enough to shatter the bone, hand fisted in the sheets next to your head. “shh— relax and let me in. it’ll feel good in a second.”

“i-i don’t know if i can,” you say, trying to force your body to accept him, but when he sinks in those first few inches, you whimper and dig your nails into his biceps. “y-you’re so big, gege.”

“f-fuck, don’t—” caleb grunts and his fingers grip the soft sides of your belly, holding your body to his like a lifeline. “don’t call me that right now. i might cum. i’m gonna put the rest in, okay? be a good girl for me and take it. i-i can’t wait any longer.”

he draws out and presses forward all the way in, burying himself to the hilt inside your sweet pussy. his gaze drops to where you’re split obscenely around him, cunt fluttering in protest at the stretch and a ragged groan tears from his throat. it takes every ounce of willpower the military beat into him not to cream himself right then and there.

“c-caleb!”

you whine as caleb retreats slightly, only to surge back in, fucking a little deeper this time. the weight of his cock stretching you out borders on cruel, but you would die before you ask him to stop, your walls squeezing him in a vice grip. it takes a few trials and errors (“keep your hips down, pipsqueak” and “i don't know, maybe a little to the l— fuck, right there oh my god”) but eventually, caleb builds up a good rhythm, the cool metal of his dog tags pooling in the valley of your breasts as he fucks you with deep, steady strokes; bottoming out each time with a guttural groan.

“fuck— stop clenching so much i’m gonna lose my mind,” his breath scalds your neck, teeth grazing your pulse as he fucks a little faster. “so fucking good. that’s it, baby. you’re doing so good. taking every inch of me like this.”

he’s right, it is so fucking good— no, it’s better. your nails scrape against caleb’s back. shivering at the hot pleasure singeing your nerve endings each time he fucks into you. it doesn’t take long for pressure to gather in your lower belly, a band waiting to snap.

you can’t help but wriggle a hand between the two of your bodies and circle a trembling middle finger around your swollen clit. “nngh, you feel so fucking good, cal.”

“a-are you- god, that’s so hot,” he grunts, glancing down at the way you’re toying with your clit and it turns him on so much he’s speeding up, cock pistoning in and out of you, his thrusts deepening until he’s nearly kissing your cervix, he’s in so deep, your thighs slamming against his hips as you try to close your legs when the head of his cock brushes right up against your sweet spot, creating starbursts behind your eyelids.

“oh god, cal— i-i can’t!”

caleb’s grin is feral, grinding deep to press into that swollen spot inside you relentlessly. “knew i’d find it,” then his fingers joining yours and it’s so much better than your own, two digits rubbing quick circles into your sensitive clit. you’re a babbling mess at this point, the pleasure too much to keep up with. “can you cum for me? can you let me feel it? please? i’ll never ask you for another thing if you give me one right here, right now.”

what are you supposed to do, deny him? you couldn’t even if you tried, not with the heat in your belly full to bursting, needing an escape.

“’m gonna c-cum for you, ge, just for you,” you sob.

caleb has seen many versions of you over the years— grumpy and pillow-marked in the morning with syrup stains on your shirt at the breakfast table, covered in sand and sun-kissed at the beach, screaming at him to do something about the jellyfish sting on your leg, in sleek black dresses at the military balls you attended as his plus one that made all his comrades stop and stare. but you’ve never looked prettier than you do right now. his dog tags between your breasts, your creamy pussy fluttering around his cock, and your pretty face twisted in pleasure as you’re about to cum for him.

he hopes that when he dies, he’ll go out with this image in his brain.

those big doe eyes of yours roll back into your head, hands frantically pushing at his abdomen as if he’s trying to escape the overwhelming friction of his cock. you cum hard, thighs trembling, vision winking out. wet droplets of tears stream down your cheeks as white heat washes over your body, the pleasure bleeding through your limbs like wildfire.

seeing you like this, what is caleb supposed to do? not follow you? he’s been holding his own orgasm back since you barged into his room in one of his shirts, begging to be taught how to suck a cock. there’s no way he can last through seeing— through feeling— you cum around him. his rhythm fractures almost immediately and he knows he’s on thin ice, fraying at the edges.

“gonna cum,” he grits out, voice mangled. “fuck, i’m gonna cum. where do you want it?”

you don’t waste a second, babbling out the answer desperately, “i-inside, ge, cum inside me. give it to me please i want it so bad i’ll do anything!”

that’s all it takes.

one more sloppy thrust and he cums right after you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you still. he breathes choppy, ruined moans into your neck as he pumps his release deep inside your cunt before he collapses against you, damp chest heaving against yours, giving a few more weak thrusts of his hips as his climax ebbs.

you don’t know how long the two of you lay there, struggling to catch your breaths. you’re satisfied and pliant as putty underneath caleb, unable to move from his heavy embrace. he’s a wall of solid muscle, one that is pressing you into the mattress. “caleb, you’re heavy.”

“gimme a minute here, pipsqueak,” caleb chuckles breathlessly against your sweaty skin, pressing a wet kiss to your neck. “i just had the best sex of my life and can’t catch my breath.”

you begin to smile in pride, but then your eyes narrow as his words register through the fucked out haze clouding your brain. “wait, you were having sex before this?” you ask, jealousy bubbling up in your chest. “was it that one sergeant? the one who kept giving you lovey dovey eyes at the DAA gala?”

“mmm, nope,” he answers almost immediately, kissing your lips quickly to placate you, making your heart swell big and bright for the boy on top of you. “chill. saved myself all this time for you.”

your heart begins racing stupidly fast at that. “sap,” you tease, before an idea pops in your head and you reach for your phone tossed haphazardly on caleb’s bedside table.

caleb’s grip on you tightens as he notices you reach for it, a dark cloud shuttering his loving expression. “what are you doing?” he demands, the venom in his tone startling you a bit. “texting him already? that eager to try out what i just taught you?”

you frown in confusion until you remember the excuse you used upon coming into caleb’s room. wow, the boy you’re in love with is an idiot. giggling, you lean up and press a sweet kiss to his cheek before opening the camera on your phone and snapping a quick selfie of the two of you.

“no, you big dummy, i’m taking a pic of us losing our virginities together so i can add it to our photo album,” you explain simply, grinning. “and there was never any boyfriend, i made him up.”

[exeggcute]

none of this is new info, but you know I have the "loves to write lists and compile links" disposition, so I thought it might be helpful to share some of the tips I've seen about how to make sure you're sharing legitimate palestinian evacuation fundraisers and bundle all those tips into a single handy reference post.

this is a spreadsheet of legitimate ("vetted") fundraisers on tumblr.

this post explains how the people who maintain this spreadsheet confirm the legitimacy of each fundraiser they add.

this podcast episode ("yousef and the fourth move") explains why evacuation fundraisers are often organized by people who don't live in gaza and/or who may not be immediate relatives of the people trying to evacuate. it's part three of a series about a man named yousef and his family; parts one and two aren't required listening for part three to make sense, but if you have a few hours to spare then I wholeheartedly recommend listening to all of them.

this is the process that I personally have been using to check whether a particular fundraiser has been vetted:

spreadsheet method

open the vetted fundraisers spreadsheet.

inside this spreadsheet, open the "find..." menu. on a windows computer, this shortcut is ctrl+F. on a mac, this shortcut is cmd+F. on a mobile device, click the three dots menu in the upper right corner of your screen, then select Find and replace.

search for the last name of the person or family in the fundraiser. you may get several results because last names obviously aren't unique; keep hitting "next" until you've looked at all the results.

if you find an entry in the spreadsheet that has the exact same name and whose gofundme link leads to the same fundraiser associated with the blog, it's legitimate. if you don't find an entry in the spreadsheet that matches the blog's fundraiser, that does not mean it's a scam. try the next method below!

tumblr search method

copy the username of the tumblr who originally posted the fundraiser and/or sent you a message asking you to boost the fundraiser. (for example, username123)

paste this username into tumblr's search bar.

for best results, click the All types drop-down menu, then select Text. since the search page is often dominated by asks sent by username123 (which people then answer and tag with their username), this helps narrow things down a bit.

look to see if any people who are not username123 have made posts confirming that username123 is legitimate. this includes people who've reblogged fundraisers and added notes, people who've compiled masterlists, and people sharing hyperlinks to other posts confirming a fundraiser's legitimacy. if the message seems to be "yep, looks legit," then it's safe to assume it's legit.

this is not a comprehensive list, but here are some of the usernames I've seen associated with "yep, looks legit"-type posts and who I've come to trust by association. (disclaimers: I am not mutuals with any of the users, and not all of them do the vetting firsthand, but the ones who don't vet posts themselves still seem to be careful about what they share and therefore are a good lead to follow. also, don't bug these people to vet fundraisers for you unless they've specifically indicated that they're open to that.)

90-ghost

el-shab-hussein

nabulsi

appsa

northgazaupdates

retvolution

communistchilchuck

neptunerings

a-shade-of-blue

shimamitsu

neither of these methods yielded anything definitive; what now?

it may just be too early to tell. unless a trusted source has shared overwhelming evidence that a particular fundraiser is a scam (which seems to be a very very rare occurrence), the best thing you can do is ignore it. don't report their blog as spam, because there's a good chance it's a legitimate fundraiser who just hasn't been vetted yet.

[harrysfolklore]

still a little bitch - cs55

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

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

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

INSTAGRAM

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

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

INSTAGRAM

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 304,566 others

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

tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lilyzneimer

view all 4,017 comments

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

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

INSTAGRAM

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux and 347,088 others

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?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

TWITTER

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 328,625 others

ynpiastri te quiero barcelona 🫶

view all 4,188 comments

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

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

ynpiastri has added to their stories

carlossainz55 replied to your story

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"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.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 397,538 others

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

tagged: oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, georgerussell63

view all 4,288 comments

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 ❤️

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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 ❤️

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

TWITTER

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

TWITTER

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

INSTAGRAM

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 476,458 others

ynpiastri he’s still a little bitch 😚

tagged: carlossainz55

view all 4,987 comments

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

[gojonanami]

tags: crack, fluff, implications of cheating (no cheating dw), satoru being his needy jealous self, suggestive at the end, based off a TikTok

“Are you cheating on me?”

Satoru couldn’t believe his eyes — he wondered if even his six eyes were betraying him the first time he saw, but no, once he saw it a second time, he knew it was true.

You were ogling other men’s shirtless pictures!

He could see you zoom in on some shitty Instagram model’s abs, and he couldn’t believe it. You had insisted on having a mirror hung up on the closet door, stating it would be easier for you to get ready in the mornings, and he had readily agreed — and he knew it would be useful in bed too—

But he didn’t know it would be useful in this way.

The last two nights he saw you zoomed in abs through the reflection in the mirror as you sat scrolling through your phone on your shared bed.

And right after, you had come over to kiss him — which he wasn’t complaining about, but when you had his body to look at, why did you need anyone else’s?

You look up from your phone to see your husband pouting, his arms crossed, “what are you talking about, Toru?”

“Don’t you ‘Toru’ me!” And you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, and stifle the small smile on your lips from your husband’s dramatics, “I saw you staring at shirtless men’s pictures for the last two nights and I need the name of the homewrecker so I can go hollow purple him,”

You can’t help but snort, “well you won’t have to go far,” and he furrows his brow, “it’s you, you idiot,”

“Eh? What do you mean it’s me?” And you flip your phone around, the picture of the affronting abs, only for you to zoom out to see his own picture, from the day you both had spent at the beach recently, but…why do you need a picture? I’m right here!”

He takes off his shirt with one hand in two seconds flat, and you can’t help but laugh then, reaching for him, and pulling him in close.

“I know, but sometimes I like to appreciate what I have, and I can’t just ask you to strip every time I want to look—“ and he tilts his head, “I know you’d do it, doesn’t mean I’m gonna ask,”

“But the real me is so much better,” he grumbles, and you laugh again.

“Are you jealous of a picture of yourself, Toru?” And he’s pouting again, and this time you’re kissing it away, before pushing him onto the bed, his eyes blinking up at you, as he grunts softly when you sit on his abs, “well how about I show you how much I prefer your real life abs?”

And his pout is quickly replaced with a grin, his large palms resting on your hips, “Can you handle it?”

You grind slowly against his stomach, making him groan softly, a wicked grin on your lips, “you know I can. The real question is can you?”

And after that long night, Satoru wouldn’t stop sending you picture of his abs for a long while anywhere he was (much to his students’ displeasure).